by Lyn Gala
Shan thought of Temar’s glass, the pieces he’d done in school when most students turned out blobs of shapeless glass and uneven rough cups. If Temar could see these people in terms of glass, Shan suddenly wasn’t as worried. “Then I have faith that you know how to keep the temperature right,” Shan said. Temar gifted him with a bright smile.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being able to say that without any doubt at all.”
Shan reached out and took Temar’s hand. “I love you, I trust you, and I really want to shave, so hand over the supplies.”
Temar laughed. “Oh no. You are going to lie there while I do the shaving. You just about got yourself blown up, and one twitch at the wrong time and you’re going to slit your own throat with a straight razor.”
“I’m not that injured.”
Temar made an impolite noise and went back to sorting his supplies. Shan realized he’d lost the battle. He wasn’t sure how, but he clearly had. He settled back into the bed. If Temar wanted to do this for him, that was fine. Temar had made it more than clear that he enjoyed initiating touch, and Shan was more than happy to indulge that particular preference.
Temar put a cloth into the bowl and pulled it up, dripping with water. “You know, they don’t think anything about me taking this much water out of a slosh stall.” Temar paused. “Shower,” he corrected himself.
“We come from different worlds.” Shan reached out and slowly rested his hand against Temar’s arm.
“We do. I miss home, but I have you, which makes it a lot easier to put up with the rest of them.” Temar dunked the cloth in the water again, carefully wringing most of the hot water out before he leaned over and curled the towel around Shan’s face. Shan closed his eyes and let the heat soak into him. At home, they had all the heat they needed, but no one heated water. Hot water created steam, and that led to water loss. The hot water against his skin was a new sensation, one he enjoyed. He liked it better than ice, which made his mouth hurt if he sucked on it wrong.
“Feels good,” Shan muttered. He hadn’t realized his shoulders had been tight, but now he could feel them loosen, the muscles relaxing.
“I’m glad.” Something clinked rhythmically, like a spoon in a bowl. Shan was tempted to raise the towel and look, but he was enjoying the heat and he didn’t like the way his body felt when he moved, like things were pulling tight and he couldn’t really feel them. It was like when you sat on your foot too long and you had to look at it to make sure it was actually still there.
A hand ran up his bare arm, and Shan sank into the feeling of Temar’s warmth against his skin. The towel had started to cool, but when Temar took it away and dropped it back into the steaming bowl, Shan still missed the heat. He never thought he’d be so hungry for heat, but his body craved it. Well, most of his body. Even though Temar leaned against the bed so that Shan could see the angle of his shoulders and the curve of his jaw, his cock was not reacting. His cock always reacted to Temar.
Temar brought his hand up to Shan’s cheek, white foam covering it. The soaplike foam smoothed across his skin. “Smells like….” Shan stopped, not sure how to describe the scent. It was spicy and warm, nothing like the stinging scent of Livre soap.
“Like Mittel Jones’s cooking and the desert at night,” Temar offered, and it was a good description of the soap. Temar’s hands stroked up Shan’s cheeks and then down to his neck, rubbing the foam into his skin. Shan tilted his head back to give Temar more room.
Temar lightened his touch, a finger tracing over Shan’s lip and then up to the tip of his nose. Shan smiled and cracked one eye open. He was fairly sure that his nose didn’t need shaving. Temar followed the bridge of Shan’s nose up, the slick soap leaving a cool trail where Temar touched. “I want to wash all of you,” Temar whispered. “I want to touch every inch until I’m sure you’re really here.”
“Okay,” Shan agreed, not entirely sure what had brought that on.
Temar paused, his palms brushing against Shan’s shoulders, leaving streaks of soap behind. Leaning to the side, Temar grabbed a second towel and wiped his hand. “I’m going to hold you to that as soon as you aren’t connected to every machine in the room.”
“It’s a date,” Shan agreed. Temar took a deep breath, his hands almost shaking for a second, but then he turned a bright smile toward Shan.
“Scared yet?” Temar teased as he held up the straight razor.
“Nope.” Closing his eyes, Shan relaxed back onto his pillow. If Temar couldn’t get control of the hand shake, he’d stop. Shan knew that.
Shan lay still as Temar rested one hand near his ear and then slowly pulled the razor’s edge down his jawline and down to his neck. When Temar pulled the razor back, Shan tilted his head back farther. Temar’s fingers brushed over the newly shaven skin, and Shan shivered as his skin tingled from the touch. He made a little humming noise, and Temar ran a thumb over the skin again before the razor swept down his neck. The warm cloth brushing over the sensitive skin startled Shan, and he opened his eyes to watch Temar. He had an intense look on his face as he got more soap foam from the small jar and stroked Shan’s cheek before running the razor down the next bit of cheek.
“They may have too many machines, but they do know how to make a good razor,” Temar said as he wiped the extra soap off on the towel, wasting the moisture. Moving in again, he angled the blade and drew it gently down, the familiar rasp ending as Temar reached his jawline and pulled away. Shan felt his eyes starting to drift closed again. Despite all the sleep, he was still tired. More than that, Temar had things well in hand. Temar pressed on the underside of Shan’s chin, and Shan obliged by angling his head. Temar took the razor down over his neck, and then Temar laid the warm, wet towel against the sensitive skin.
“You scared me,” Temar said, his voice low and soft. Shan might have tried to answer, but the razor returned, moving down his neck in a way that made talking dangerous, so Shan stayed quiet. “I thought I was going to lose you and I was so angry and afraid.”
Temar flicked the razor away and shifted the towel onto the newly bare skin.
“Do you have any idea what I would do if you left me?” Temar stopped, putting the razor to one side before he leaned forward, one hand on Shan’s shoulder and the other braced against the edge of the hospital bed. “Promise you won’t leave me.” Shan could see the emotions starting to leak out, and he reached out and caught Temar’s hand, holding on as tight as he could.
“Even if something did happen, I would still be watching you, loving you,” Shan promised. He had no control over insane terrorists or freedom fighters or governments. However, he did know he would always love Temar.
Temar looked at him, a storm of emotion in his expression. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
Shan pulled the towel off his face and tossed it aside before catching Temar’s arm and tugging him closer. “I don’t have answers or promises. I can’t give you what I don’t have. But I’m here, Temar. I’m fine.” Fine was an exaggeration, but Shan had survived.
“They all wanted me to make the decisions.” Temar bent until his forehead rested against Shan’s shoulder. “That’s not true. They were all trying to make decisions, only their decisions were less than helpful, so I started making better ones, but I was so afraid I would pick wrong. I was so afraid you were going to die on me.”
Shan reached around and offered an awkward hug. “We survived. I survived, and I don’t mind telling you, I wasn’t sure I would. I was pretty sure I was going to die in that room with Melton’s brains staining my shirt.”
“I was terrified,” Temar whispered.
“You were terrified and you did well.” Shan summed it up. He didn’t say anything else, but he could feel Temar’s back start to relax, the hard muscles slowly yielding as Temar rested against him.
“I hate being the one out front. I don’t like it when I have to make the decisions. I hate it even worse when I have to live with
the decisions other people make.” Temar muttered the words against Shan’s shoulder, and another day Shan might have pointed out the illogic. If you didn’t want to make decisions or live with others making decisions, that didn’t leave a lot of options. However, today he didn’t feel any need to point that out. Besides, he suspected Temar already knew that. Temar took a deep, shuddering breath and then pulled back.
“Don’t ever come that close to dying again,” Temar said more firmly as he grabbed the discarded towel and put it back in the steaming water.
“Yes, sir,” Shan agreed with a smile.
Temar gave him a hard look. “Don’t start with the sirring. I’ve been ordering these military people around, you know.”
Shan thought about Black’s comment, that when Temar was unhappy, entire universes suffered. “I hear you were quite good at keeping them all in line,” Shan said. A flicker of confusion crossed Temar’s face. “Lieutenant Commander Black stopped by,” Shan said. He watched as Temar’s face pinked. “Temar?”
Temar cleared this throat. “I might have threatened him once or twice.”
Shan’s eyebrows went up. “That would explain his offer to transfer to another station or another universe if you were unhappy.”
Temar’s blush deepened.
“And he seems to genuinely like you,” Shan added.
Temar shrugged. “I think I threatened the people from the AFP more than I threatened him, which is an odd place to start negotiating treaties, but….” Temar shrugged.
He picked up the razor again and looked at Shan before he put it down and got more of the soap out of the jar. He stroked the soap over the unshaven skin, and Shan settled down to watch the emotions slowly calm in Temar’s gaze. The man was a storm front, shifting suddenly and powerfully from one emotion to another, but the ragged edge had dulled some. Clearly he was upset, but something had taken away that sharp need Shan could never understand when it crossed Temar’s face.
Temar stroked the blade over Shan’s face, wiping the blade between every pass and pausing every now and then to run a thumb over the shaven skin. Every single time, that made Shan shiver. Eventually Temar finished, putting the razor aside before getting the warm towel out of the water. He curled it around Shan’s face, and the heat soaked the skin. Shan moaned in pleasure. Shaving himself had never been so pleasurable. Temar waited until the towel had cooled before pulling it off and then carefully wiping Shan’s face.
His movements had turned sure and steady as he opened a metal bottle and poured a small bit of gel onto one hand before rubbing his hands together. He brought both hands up and smoothed the cooling balm over Shan’s cheeks and neck. Clever fingers stroked over his skin, tracing the small lines at the corners of Shan’s mouth and trailing down to Shan’s neck. Leaning closer, Temar offered a chaste kiss. They’d shared passionate and desperate kisses, but this one was softer, needier in some way.
Shan brought his hand up and stroked Temar’s hair. “Are you okay, really?” he asked.
Temar nodded. “I had to take charge, and it worked out okay. No one yelled at me.” He frowned. “No one whose opinion I care about yelled at me, no one I tried to save died, and none of the many, many broken pieces has anything to do with me.”
Shan wondered if Temar was mentally comparing that to a certain night where he hadn’t taken charge—he’d followed someone else, and that had almost ruined his life.
“It sounds like you did great,” Shan offered.
“I kind of did. However,” Temar said, his voice growing sharp, “you are not allowed to get kidnapped, shot, or blown up ever again.”
Now probably wasn’t the time for the lecture about what humanity could or could not control. Shan just nodded. “Got it,” he agreed.
“Are you okay? Really okay? Verly said that Pentalia would probably torture you until he got you to apologize for giving the AFP supplies.”
Shan closed his eyes and felt helpless regret rush through him for a moment. “He was so angry, and I tried to talk to him about making the morally right choice, even when other people didn’t. Christ himself lived in an immoral world.”
“You gave him a sermon?” Temar sounded surprised.
With a shrug, Shan admitted, “I think I did, but at the time I thought I was just talking to him. He wasn’t an evil man, but he was hurt and angry and so very confused. But he never did hurt me. Unfortunately, I had the feeling he had every intention of killing me, and himself.” Tightening his fingers around Temar’s hand, he held on tightly. It would be a long time before he forgot Melton’s body falling to the ground, the warm splatters of blood across his skin. However, Shan didn’t have regrets. He’d done everything he could to save both Melton and Pentalia, save them physically and morally. However, God had chosen a different path for them. “I would have died if you hadn’t showed quite the talent at taking charge of the situation.”
“Am I allowed to completely hate the fact that I had to take control of the situation? Hate. Loathe. Detest.”
“But you did it well, even while you were hating it,” Shan pointed out. He suspected Temar probably did better than he might have. When he was in charge, his big plan had included charging after Ben and his whole group with no weapons, no backup, and no actual big plan. Looking back, Naite had every right to yell at him. Loudly. “You did it well, and you’re proud of your work,” Shan said, sure he was right.
Temar’s earlier blush had faded, but now he got pink again.
“So, how long am I stuck in here? Any chance of you using your newly found powers of intimidation and getting someone to let me out?”
“Consider yourself lucky to be alive and stop complaining.” Temar started cleaning up his supplies.
“I wasn’t complaining,” Shan complained. “Much. Was it really that bad?” Temar paused to give Shan an incredulous look. One look at Temar’s face told him the truth. It had been. Shan looked around at all the machines quietly beeping and the flashing buttons. He might love his God, but he wasn’t ready to meet him, and he was suddenly struck with the realization that he might have come closer than he’d thought. He brought his hands up and started to feel along his oddly numb chest and abdomen.
Temar intercepted his hand, holding it tightly. “Don’t.” Temar’s voice broke, and he went silent for a moment before giving Shan an insincere smile. “But hey, the good news is, you got me to pray.”
“You prayed?” That did surprise Shan. He had faith that God listened to every prayer, and he even had faith that God understood and loved Temar despite his lack of faith. However, he never thought Temar would find solace in prayer.
“I prayed that he wouldn’t take you away. I guess I have to believe in God now, because he gave you back to me.”
Shan tightened his hold on Temar’s hand. “God doesn’t work that way,” he said gently. “God won’t prove he exists. If he answers a prayer, he does it only because he knows what’s best for you.”
“Then I guess God thinks you’re good for me.” Temar looked away, his eyes bright.
“I hope so,” Shan agreed. “And I’m here now, so you can stop worrying.”
Temar’s face was still heavy with fear. Shan could feel the distress swirling around them, and that wasn’t not what he wanted to feel. Not now. He was alive and they were together, and in the end, that mattered more than whatever dangers they’d faced. They were okay. “So, I guess you won’t be ambushing me soon,” he said, putting on his most mournful expression.
For one second Temar simply stared, as if his brain hadn’t quite processed that comment yet. Then a rough bark of laugher burst out. Temar still might be physically on the small side, but his personality had somehow grown. He laughed loudly, not even trying to quiet himself. “Oh, I can still ambush you. We’ll just have to go slow and easy. I can’t exactly sneak up on you until you heal.”
“So, it’s going to be a slow and easy ambush with a lot of warning?” Shan asked.
“Yep,” Temar agreed.
Chapter 34
SHAN drifted in and out of consciousness with such regularity that he suspected that something in the machines made him fall asleep every time the ship’s vid system started showing the daily report of ship status. Shan wasn’t entirely sure he understood why everyone would want rows upon rows of numerical data that ranged from oxygen levels to weather on distant planets that Shan would never see. Hopefully. At this point in his life, he wasn’t willing to make any more bets. If he had his way, he and Temar would settle in for a quiet life on a farm where he could fix a lot of machinery and rediscover the joy of cursing. Maybe he could even figure out how to talk to Naite without wanting to hit him and then needing to go to confession.
“Ambassador Polli?”
Shan looked up to see two men standing just inside his room. The sudden burst of discomfort that blossomed in his gut surprised him. Pentalia had done that—stood between him and the door. Shan pushed himself up a little higher in the bed and tried to rein in his emotions. He couldn’t go around assuming that every government official wanted to blow him up.
“Yes?”
The older man smiled. “Ambassador, you are looking much better. I’m Representative Fields of the PA. I had hoped we could discuss treaty rights. After all, we can’t allow the terrorists to stop us from conducting the business of the day, can we?”
Shan raised his eyebrows. From the little bits he had gleaned from Temar, his partner had grown quite competent at handling negotiations. After his total failure with Pentalia, Shan had decided to give up on trying to use persuasion. He was better with a wrench.
The other man cleared his throat. “I’m Commander Green. Perhaps Ambassador Gazer has mentioned me.”
“No.” Shan took a little satisfaction in seeing how that annoyed them. Considering that he’d been nearly blown up by a terrorist trying to support the PA’s political position, Shan was just petty enough to want to hurt them a little bit.
