by Cari Z.
The next thing Jason knew, they were pulling away, and Ferran was in his lap. It was strange, juxtaposed with the last time they’d been in this position, in a shuttle on another planet. Then, Ferran had been so relaxed he was almost boneless, languorous and happy. Now he was tense and holding on to Jason for all he was worth.
“It’s all right,” Jason said, stroking down Ferran’s quills. They bristled against his hand, already sharp with discomfort. “Ferran.” Jason lifted Ferran’s head and kissed his lover gently on the mouth. “Relax. Deep breaths. We’re fine.”
“That was… I’ve never heard….”
“What, someone being rude?”
“That was beyond rude, and she is a ruling matriarch—she should not say such things!” Ferran’s lips thinned to a line again, and he tucked his head back under Jason’s chin. “I can’t speak about it in here.”
“We don’t have to speak about it at all,” Jason told him. “We don’t even have to think about it. I just don’t like for you to be upset.”
Ferran took a deep breath and made an effort to relax, his quills softening a little. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Jason glanced out of one of the windows. “We’re going to your house?”
“Yes. Neyarr and Garrell will meet us there.”
“Good.” Jason couldn’t help but feel a little abandoned after Giselle’s abrupt departure, and it would be good to see a few friendly faces after the last unsettling half hour. “How many other people live in your house, again?”
“Many, but we have separate dens.” Ferran was relaxing now as he got to talking, a habit Jason had noticed before. Distraction was a good de-stressor for his husband. “My mother is a ruling matriarch, but there are many families with their own matriarchs who align with us out of family loyalty or similar ideals. Our House is as large as the space station circling this planet, and there are over thirty families who live within our borders.”
“Kind of like Drifters,” Jason commented.
“Who are they?” Ferran seemed genuinely interested, and Jason was grateful for the distraction.
“They live on the Fringe, mostly. They’re families that don’t come from any particular planet or claim any particular ethnicity, but they’re all wanderers with no official status in the Federation. These people start with one ship, a central ship, and as new families join them, they attach their ships to each other until you end up with a flying city—the kind of thing that can never land on a planet because it would be torn apart under that kind of stress. They keep to themselves, trade for what they need, and are basically as self-sufficient as you can get living in space.”
“They just fly around exploring new places and meeting new people?” Ferran’s tone was kind of wistful. “That sounds nice.”
“It’s hard too. They’re vulnerable to piracy, they can be pretty unreasonable and bigoted toward outsiders, and without Federation membership, they’re forever restricted to the Fringe planets—and those are becoming fewer and farther between. But I’ve met a few, and they’ve all seemed pretty content with the lifestyle. Humans can adjust to anything.” Jason kissed the edge of Ferran’s forehead, just below his hairline. “We’re very adaptable creatures.”
“I know. I’m glad.”
The shuttle pulled into a tunnel and continued for a few hundred yards, stopping three times for Ferran to present identification to electronic checkpoints. The machinery was archaic by most human standards, but the security kiosks themselves looked new.
“My mother just had them installed,” Ferran said after the third check, when Jason couldn’t stop himself from raising an eyebrow. “She might have gone a little too far with it,” he admitted.
“This is on our account, then?”
“No one is certain what effect an alien living among us, really among us, will have. My mother believes in being prepared.”
“Are we likely to have problems inside your own house?”
“Almost certainly not,” Ferran reassured him. “My family is very progressive, and they’re all looking forward to meeting you. My cousins all want to sign up for your classes.”
Jason chuckled a little. “I haven’t even put any on offer yet.”
“But you will. And when you do, you’ll have the support of my entire House,” Ferran promised him.
THE TWINS were waiting for them, but despite his husband’s assurances, Jason had no idea whether they would really be welcoming or not.
That question was answered almost as soon as they were in the door. The two of them surrounded Ferran first, pulling him into a hug and purring a welcome. Before Jason could blink, they were on him as well, and the strength of their embrace and their clear affection warmed him right through.
They were almost perfectly identical: slightly shorter than Ferran and dressed in matching dark blue and green jumpsuits, but Neyarr had a certain arch to his brows that Garrell didn’t share. Looking at them as they pulled back, he was almost sure he knew who was whom. Almost.
“Welcome home,” Neyarr said, pulling them both inside and shutting the door behind them.
“And thank you for not being a fool,” Garrell added to Jason. His twin hit him on the arm a moment later, and he flinched theatrically. “What? He would have been a fool to say no to Ferran.”
“If I recall, no was the word you were looking for in the first place,” Jason said, but he was smiling.
“That was before,” Garrell purred. “Things have changed. Come.” He pulled on their arms and drew them down the hall. It was almost as finely decorated as the one in the Council House, but with brighter colors, pastels that Jason didn’t think he’d see on this planet. “The Matriarch combined your den with your brother’s to give you the space you need.”
“It’s connected to ours, so we’ll be nice and close if you need us,” Neyarr added. “For anything at all. Advice… in the bedroom, maybe—”
“Our bedroom is not for sharing,” Ferran told his cousins plainly. “At all.”
“We know.”
“Prude.” Neyarr turned to Jason. “That is the word, isn’t it? Prude? We didn’t encounter many of those during our trip, but if anyone here would fit that word, it would be the two of you.”
“You’re just jealous,” Jason said lightly. He barely knew the twins, but he was comfortable enough with them to tease a little bit.
“Jealous of what?” Garrell asked as he opened the last door on the right at the end of the entrance hallway. It led to a warmly lit room lit with globe-shaped yellow lights instead of the phosphorescent or inlaid lighting that Jason had seen so far. A sectional couch shaped like an ancient horseshoe took up the center, an oval with a break at one end. There were tables and empty shelves along the walls. It looked like a living room. It looked… human.
“Jealous of being bound to one sexual partner for the rest of my life?” Garrell continued as he sprawled onto the couch. “This is not jealousy. This is a fleeting effort to understand the appeal. One partner is not at all the normal way of things for a Perel.”
That was something that Jason had thought about a lot, and didn’t really need to be reminded of right now. Garrell grinned at his cousin. “Although if you’re going to limit yourself, Ferran, I think you’ve got excellent taste.”
“You think I have excellent taste?” Ferran’s eyes were wide, and he looked much more like himself than he had since they left Jacksonville. “You think?” In an instant, he was on the couch, twisting his cousin’s arm behind his back. Garrell resisted, naturally, and after a few seconds, they fell to the floor with a thud. Neither of them cared enough to stop wrestling.
“Actually, we are the ones with the taste,” Neyarr said smugly to Jason. “We helped to decorate some of the rooms in your den. Ferran used to share it with Veyall, but you know about that, yes?”
“Some,” Jason agreed. What he knew about Ferran’s brother wouldn’t fill a thimble, but he didn’t feel the need to discuss that with the twins.
/>
“Well, there are five rooms total. Only one bedroom, because what use would you have for two? Any guests will stay in Grenn’s den, naturally. Another room is this place, your audience chamber, your… living room, yes?”
“You know perfectly well what it’s called,” Jason said dryly, and Neyarr laughed.
“I like to tease. It was so easy to convince humans that we were simple-minded, wide-eyed provincials ripe for a new encounter, just waiting to be instructed in the arts of iniquity. I think we did more instructing, truly.”
“Iniquitous arts. You could probably teach a class in those.”
“It is a calling for my brother and me,” Neyarr said with a shallow bow. “Now, where was I? The rooms! Yes, your bedroom, the living room, you have Ferran’s kitchen, which is fortunate for you because his cooking is quite fantastic. The bathroom, where the water is filtered to be neutral to your tender human needs, and the studio. It is the only room that gets natural light in your den, and it’s also the largest. Ferran and Veyall used it for their paintings, but there is room for whatever you might want to do as well.” He tilted his head a little bit in question. “What will you be teaching us?”
“Well, it won’t be language classes,” Jason deadpanned. “You clearly have that under control.”
“We are very talented, true,” Neyarr said, his quills fluffing a little as he preened.
It looked like Ferran and Garrell had run out of steam, leaning against each other and making hiccupping little purrs that Jason knew was laughter. “Lazy,” Garrell panted, tweaking one of Ferran’s quills. “Where is your edge? You have to exercise more.” He looked up at Jason. “Why aren’t you exhausting him every night?”
Ferran gave his cousin a shove before standing up. “Nosy. Thank you for welcoming us back. You can both go now.”
“But we haven’t finished the tour!”
“I know my own den. I want to show my consort around myself.”
Both the twins blinked slowly, a sign of mild disdain or disappointment, but they did head toward the door. “But when will you show him to the rest of the family?” Neyarr asked as he walked slowly out. “And you haven’t eaten, and there’s nothing prepared in your den.”
“Everything else must hold until after we speak to my mother. She wants us to wait for her here.”
“Ah.” The twins glanced at each other significantly and then left without any further protest. The door shut softly behind them, and Jason and Ferran were alone, free to talk at last… except that Jason had no idea where to start.
Fortunately, Ferran didn’t have that problem. “This door is a back entrance to my mother’s house. The other doors in the entrance tunnel lead to halls that become family dens. Our den has no hall because it is connected to my mother’s, and so is closest to the surface.”
“How deep underground are we?” Jason asked.
“About twenty feet. Not deep.” He took Jason’s hand and led him toward the wide, arched doorway on the far side of the living room. Through it was the kitchen, very human to Jason’s eyes, except that there was almost nothing automatic in there. Various implements hung from the walls, and mesh cages full of tools Jason couldn’t identify dangled from the ceiling. The lighting was more muted in here, radiating from the center of the ceiling.
“Ambassador Howards told me she would share her garden with us,” Ferran said. “She grows things that you like to eat. And I can make meals that are very similar to human food with what my mother has access to.”
“It’s strange. We never talked about what you grew up eating,” Jason commented as he ran his fingers over a round, bulbous contraption studded with sharp knives where it sat on a counter.
“I like human food. We are omnivores; it’s easy for us to adapt.”
“I’m an omnivore too, you know.”
“Yes, but you aren’t in the habit of eating any of your food live,” Ferran replied, his voice a little tight. Jason almost wanted to look around for tanks or terrariums, but he knew that would make his husband more self-conscious. Ferran tugged again, and Jason followed him into the closest door, which led into the bedroom. The lights were very low, and the bed was circular and took up more than two-thirds of the room. Five-petaled orange blossoms as large as Jason’s head were strewn over the dark, slick-looking sheets. There were gauzy gray curtains stretching from the ceiling to the floor on one side of the room, and next to that was another door. “Our closet,” Ferran said, indicating the curtains. “Through that door is the bathroom.”
“It looks nice.” Jason must not have sounded too convinced, because Ferran wouldn’t meet his eyes. He tried another tack. “Especially the bed. Do Perels usually put flowers on beds?” The subject change seemed to work, because Ferran’s expression went soft, and he smiled a little.
“Those are for newlyweds,” he explained, curling in close to Jason. “They symbolize a sweet beginning. Can you smell them?”
“Yes. They’re a little like tangerines.”
“What is a tangerine?”
“A fruit,” Jason said. “It’s naturally very sweet. I’ll get you one someday—I think you’d like the taste.”
“You are sweet,” Ferran told him, pressing a kiss to Jason’s cheek and then another to his chin.
Jason had been about to ask Ferran to show him the studio, but suddenly, the bed looked very inviting, and his husband was being very distracting.
“That’s a very big bed,” he said quietly as Ferran grazed his lips down Jason’s neck.
“They’re sized to provide for a matriarch and all of her consorts,” Ferran said, his voice a bare whisper. “All… at… once.”
“No wonder your cousins joke.”
“We have always had different interests.” Ferran’s hands loosened the neck of Jason’s high-collared suit, baring his throat and the top of his chest. His fingertips danced over bare skin, and his breath was comfortingly warm in the slight coolness of the room. “Different passions. They will go their way and love many, but I only love you.”
“Ferran….” Jason lifted his lover’s head and kissed his lips hard, drinking him in and drowning in the comforting familiarity of his mouth, the feel of his eager tongue, and the smoothness of his pearl-white skin. Ferran’s arms came around his waist, tugging them closer together, so tight that they were in danger of losing their balance. When they did, they would fall back onto that giant bed, the bed that looked so incredibly comfortable and inviting….
The sound of a gentle cough brought their activities to a very sudden stop. They turned to see Grenn standing in the bedroom door, her heavy body barely more than a silhouette in the dimness of the bedroom light. “I’ll be in the audience chamber,” she said before disappearing down the hall.
Wonderful. Caught making out by his mother-in-law, who apparently was so much in charge of everything that courtesies like knocking before entering didn’t pertain to her. Jason shut his eyes and tried to will his mind clear again, to push away the tantalizing warmth and want he always felt when he was touching Ferran.
It was a bit of a comfort to see that Ferran wasn’t all that happy about the situation either. “I am sorry,” Ferran whispered as he straightened up, refastening Jason’s collar for him. His hands lingered for a long moment on Jason’s shoulders before dropping away. “I should have known to wait.”
“It isn’t your fault. It’s just bad timing,” Jason replied. After checking to make sure he wasn’t going to embarrass himself further with a blatant erection, he nodded, and the two of them headed back out into the living room.
Ferran’s mother was standing in the empty center of the white couch, her hands folded demurely across her stomach. “Son.”
“Mother.” Ferran went to her and embraced her the Perel way, leaning down so their temples could touch. They stayed that way for a long moment before she let go, and Ferran stepped back.
“And your consort.” All her attention was on Jason now, and he had to fight a sudden urge to fidg
et. He hadn’t fidgeted since he was a child, and no one’s scrutiny, not even his mother-in-law’s, was going to make him take it up again. “Come and greet me, my newest son.”
Jason took a few steps closer to her and bowed formally, another relic of his childhood that he’d held on to. “Matriarch Grenn.”
“I am as much your mother on this planet as Ambassador Howards, Jason Kim Howards of the House of Grenn. You shall address me as Mother.” She said it calmly, with every expectation of obedience.
“I would prefer not to.” It might be a small sticking point, but it was a sensitive one for Jason.
“Hmm. Then I suppose you will have to call me Matriarch. In public, at least.” She smiled a little, her round cheeks protruding like tiny apples. “In my son’s den, or in private, you may call me Grenn.”
Ferran blinked, clearly taken aback. Apparently, calling Grenn by her given name was something of a rarity, and Jason realized that it was an honor he was fortunate to be extended. “Thank you, Grenn.”
“It is my pleasure. Sit down, my sons. I understand that there are other things on your minds, so I won’t stay long.” The three of them sat, Jason and Ferran facing Grenn from the other side of the couch. “I simply wanted to inform you of your schedules for the next few days. I wish I could give you more time to be alone, but there is too much to do for that to be possible.”
“What do you have lined up?” Jason asked.
“Education, for both of you. Ferran will spend much of his day learning how to deal with aliens appropriately. He will sit in on our policy sessions and learn what things the Council wishes him to represent to the wider universe once the two of you go abroad again, which won’t be for many months. And you”—she focused on Jason—“have very much to learn about your new home. You will be instructed in language, first and foremost, and in our cultural traditions. You will be introduced, slowly, to the wider society of our city. Over 90 percent of our population lives in this metropolis, and eventually, you shall be known to them all.
