Outcast

by Alex Douglas

  "Yeah," Prez said, taking his Tablet out and setting it on the table. Lan hadn't messaged for at least two hours. The shock of anonymity was starting to wear off. He wished Lan had been able to come, but there was no hiding those eyes or hands no matter how proficient Glitch claimed she was with makeup. Anyway, Lan was happy to examine the planet remotely, having established access to various libraries through the computer system. He imagined Lan reading dryly fascinating facts about the planet's technology and smiled to himself.

  The waiter brought the drinks back and set them on small square coasters. The Specials required a second trip to the bar -- two halves of the testicle-tree fruit each brimming with a milky liquid, ice, and pink straws bent at the neck. Flack let out a dirty laugh at the sight of the drinks.

  "Enjoy your Specials!" the waiter said. "I see you guys are a fan of the King. Will you be paying a visit to Graceland?"

  "Where?" Prez lifted the Special into both hands and felt the solid shell and the fibers scratching his palms. Dubious, he took a sip, but it was surprisingly tasty, with a good kick of alcohol following the sweetness. Ralian testicles, that was what the -- fruit? nut? -- reminded him of, and he chuckled to himself.

  "Why, Elvis's home!"

  "My God!" Flack exclaimed. "You can go there?" He turned to Prez and spoke in Common. "I don't remember him ever saying it was a tourist attraction."

  The waiter was starting to look puzzled. "Of course you can," he said. "Where is it you guys are from?"

  Prez looked at Flack, trying frantically to remember what Lan had told them to say.

  "We're... Europeans," Kris said, and the waiter's face relaxed back into a friendly smile. A group of women entered the bar, fanning themselves and carrying a lot of bags, and there was the scrape of metal against the floor as they sat down and waved at the waiter as if he was their best friend.

  "Well... have a great holiday! My name's Bobby, by the way, shout if you need anything more!" He gave Glitch a little wave with his fingertips and went over to the new customers.

  The drinks were sweet and strong, and some hours later, Prez had figured out how to use the music machine and "A Little Less Conversation" -- an odd version with dance beats added on -- was starting to pump out of the machine when the first of the guests arrived for the costume party. The bar had filled up, and Glitch was hogging the dance floor, surrounded by clapping males. The "aliens" were plastered in green make up and had some sort of false hair on their heads, tight green curls, dressed in shiny black suits that clung tight to their bodies. Then came another group, long black capes and white faces just like the ones on the posters, with what looked like blood over their mouths and chins. Prez watched the people milling around with idle interest, tapping his fingers against the music machine, holding it because the world was spinning, and he thought if he let go, he'd fall right through the floor.

  "Oh man." Bobby paused at his shoulder, holding a tray of drinks. "Enough of the Elvis already."

  "Hey! It's because of this great man that I got my name." Prez held up a finger and smiled. The other kids in the compound had chosen it for him, on account of his black hair. His heart softened at the memory of simple pleasures: getting a name. The first step to identity, being an individual in the eyes of others.

  "Your name's Elvis?"

  "No it's..." Too late Prez remembered the forged passports. "Er... John Smith."

  Bobby looked at him incredulously. "Whatever, dude," he said and pushed his way into the crowd.

  Prez put his hand back on the machine because his stomach had suddenly given an odd lurch. He had a few songs left to buy with the coins he'd put in, so he pressed buttons randomly, hoping something good would come on. The alcohol in the drinks seemed to work differently from that in mukkesh; his limbs were starting to go floppy and numb and hard to control.

  Glitch appeared at his elbow, sweaty from dancing. "Come quick," she said. "Flack's getting us in a fight."

  Not again. Prez blundered his way through the crowd to the booth they'd been sitting in all day. Kris was sleeping in the corner, and Vaxel was trying to mediate between Flack and one of the green-faced party guests. He gave Prez a look that said help! and sat down, draining the last of his Special.

  "We are fucking aliens," Flack slurred, laughing as the not-so-little green man clenched his fists and squared his huge shoulders.

  "Yeah? Well you're shit aliens! You're a fat motherfucker, she's a tart in a funny bikini, he is a drunk, and... he," he turned and glared at Prez, "he's just wearin' dumbass clothes and contacts! And you're dissin' my costume?"

  "People," Prez said, holding up his hands. "You must excuse my fat friend here. He's recently recovered from a very traumatic event and has lost control of his mouth. We've been enjoying the Specials all day, and I'd be happy to buy some for you too. We're on holiday on this wonderful planet of yours, we don't want to fight." He gave them his most winning smile. "Anyway, your costume is almost perfect."

  The large man appeared to be slightly mollified, and his fists relaxed. One of his friends muttered something in his ear and headed in the direction of the toilets. "Well," he said. "Okay, then. What do you mean, almost perfect?"

  Prez turned to Flack. "Don't you remember those Glatian students who visited Andra, the ones you wanted a foursome with? He looks a bit like one of those, without the spines, of course."

  Flack squinted at the man for a second and smiled. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "Just a different shade of green, and they had nice tits too, six each, oh yes!"

  The man looked at them as if they were crazy, then shrugged. When the drinks had been bought and the offended aliens had moved away to the other side of the bar, Prez collapsed forward onto the table in a fit of helpless laughter. "Did you hear that?" he gasped, clutching his stomach. "We're shit aliens! Oh man, that's the best thing I've ever heard."

  "We should get Lan and Doc down here right now," Flack said when they'd all stopped chuckling, looking around at all the weird and wonderful costumes of the customers. "Who'd notice another couple of aliens around here?"

  ***

  They spent the last days of their holiday exploring an uninhabited island in the middle of the huge ocean that had got the blue planet its name. Lan and Doc had been persuaded to disregard interplanetary ethics and come down for a look around. The island was tiny and rocky, but there was a white sand beach on the south side and the wind was fresh in their faces as they sat on a rug gazing out to sea. A heap of soft pillows, some more blankets and a basket containing the remains of their picnic lay beside them. The shuttle was parked in a wide-mouthed cave, out of sight of any aerial vehicles, as Lan had insisted.

  Prez stared at Glitch and Vaxel, emerging from the cave holding hands, whispering in each other's ears and laughing as they walked over. They'd bought the sandals that everyone else had been wearing on the beach, and the sand slapped up the back of their legs.

  "When did this happen?"

  Vaxel looked sheepish. "After the costume party. Those Specials were strong."

  Glitch was beaming. "They were wonderful. This whole planet is wonderful. I've had the greatest time."

  "Well, about fucking time. So no one's tempted to stay?"

  "Not one bit." Glitch wrapped her arms around Vaxel's thick waist. "It's not home. It's not our lives."

  "Interesting concept, home." Doc flipped on his sun filters and looked around, rubbing his hands. "Oh, so much incredible plant life! I must get some samples. The air is just so fresh, I could eat it."

  Flack groaned and hauled himself into a sitting position. "I could do with eating some fresh air," he said, rubbing his belly. "Far too much steak. And those... fries. Man, I could eat them forever."

  "Home," Prez mused. It was true; much as he'd loved the blue planet, it hadn't taken long to shatter the idea he'd held close for so long. It wasn't home. He wasn't one of them, any more than he'd been Akilian. For better or worse, he was ku-tah, and it was the only identity he'd ever known. One home
had been a compound; the other was a ship. But even those were just places, without the people he loved all around. As long as they were together, anywhere would be just that. Home.

  Glitch nudged Vaxel. "Oh," he said. "We're going for a walk, if anyone wants to come. There are some more caves on the northern side of the island, according to the scanners. We're going to explore."

  "Oh yes! Caves!" Doc was breathing as if he was about to ejaculate. "I bet there are some animals there too. And lichen, mother of skies! It doesn't get any better than this." He did a little dance of excitement, then frowned slightly. "But poor Kris. He won't be out of the shuttle for a while." He lowered his voice and whispered, even though there were no other people on the whole island. "Constipation, you know."

  "Too much information!" Glitch said, hauling a grumbling Flack to his feet, and they walked off, shielding their eyes from a brief burst of sun through the cloudy sky.

  Watching them trace a path up the rocky cliff, Prez turned to Lan and smiled. "I get the feeling we're being left alone."

  "Perhaps," Lan said.

  "What are you thinking?"

  The waves were crashing onto the beach, curling tunnels of foam breaking onto the rocks then slipping away, dragging soft hollows into the sand. Lan picked up a shell and turned it over in his fingers, lifted a handful of sand and let it trickle away. "In fact, I was not thinking," he said. "This planet is most interesting. And quite beautiful. I was... absorbing."

  Prez took Lan's face in his hands and kissed him softly, nibbling on the fleshy bottom lip, touching his tongue against Lan's. Mine, he thought, and it was a powerful feeling, that right at that moment, he didn't need anything else in the universe. When Lan's fingers brushed against his tattoo, he felt the tingling sensation all over his body, the blood flowing into his groin. "Haven't we got some more... research to do? I've come prepared." He patted his bag and grinned.

  "More research," Lan muttered, and kissed him so hard he lost his breath. Opening his eyes, he saw flocks of seabirds swooping on the wind and sighed with delight as his T-shirt slipped up his chest and Lan's tongue flicked against his belly, his nipples, the soft skin under his navel where the trail of little black hairs began, pointing any passing tongues in the right direction.

  Then he felt the rush of wind against his erection, rough tugging at his newly bought jeans that fell in a crumpled heap on the sand, the blanket scratching against the skin on his buttocks. Lan's wet mouth, sucking the whole length of his cock into his throat, lips tight as he moved up and down, then tongued at the sensitive underside of the tip until Prez's body started to tremble and he had to push Lan away.

  Lan smiled. "I have been studying."

  "Really? What else have you learned?"

  "Many things," Lan said and kissed him again. He could taste himself on Lan's tongue, and he lost himself in the kiss again until he felt Lan's hand stroke against his cock, his balls, then a finger pushed inside him and his eyes flew open as Lan found that knot of nerves inside and his hips arched helplessly upwards, straining at the touch.

  The birds were black dots high in the sky, all moving together, screeching their song to the wind. Lan reached into Prez's bag and pulled out a little vial of oil. "You have indeed come prepared," Lan said. He poured some onto his fingers and massaged it into Prez's ass until it was slick and the thrusting fingers were stoking him quickly toward climax. Then Prez caught his wrist and stopped him.

  "Do it like this," he whispered, opening his legs so Lan could slip in between them. "I want to see your face."

  "Anything you want," Lan murmured, stroking the side of his face while he freed himself from his trousers and then kissed Prez again while he got into position. He held the tip of his cock against Prez's ass, teasing and pushing just a little, finally sinking inside... slowly, slowly, until he was in to the root, and rested his forehead against Prez's.

  Prez let out a long sigh of contentment. They moved together, looking into each other's eyes. He felt Lan's breath in his ear as his cock grazed slowly over Prez's happy spot, not the brutal fucking he'd been used to, but a whole new level of mutual bliss. His hips started to roll up as Lan moved faster, and he caught Lan's gaze and held it just as all the muscles in his thighs and ass clenched, poised on the brink of orgasm. Lan touched his forehead against Prez's, and he was suddenly blinded by the music, faint clashing chords rising to a crescendo as with a harsh cry, he shot and shot, spraying his own chest while Lan bit down on his neck and shuddered inside him. Not the sharp, shame-tinged orgasms of previous encounters but a long, intense release that left him racked with pleasure and happiness for a long time afterwards.

  Lan reached for one of the blankets and pulled it across their naked bodies, and they faced each other and smiled. His skin was glowing -- a bright blue all over that was slowly fading. "Not bad," Prez said, clenching his ass and feeling a pleasurable sting.

  Lan's eyes were half shut, a look of lazy satisfaction all over his face. "I am good at research."

  "You are. And I love you."

  Lan smiled and hugged Prez against his chest, slipping his leg in between his. Prez clung to him and breathed in the scent of his post-coital sweat. It was a wonderful sensation to be held -- just like being loved. Except this wasn't like being loved, it was just that. Being loved. And even better, loving back. There wasn't a feeling like it in the universe.

  They dozed for a while, fingers linked together, listening to the shriek of the birds and the rush of the waves. "Where will we go," Lan murmured, "when we leave this planet?"

  "I don't know. We'll need to pick up some work, I guess. I hear there's an archaeological survey mission going to the Falmagor system from Andra. Maybe they'll need transport."

  "Falmagor has been a dead world for thousands of years," Lan said. "It would be most interesting to explore the ruins. However, the Daliz have a territorial claim going on in the IPF courts. It might be... dangerous."

  Prez smiled. "Well, wherever we go, as long as you're there, it'll be just fine." Suddenly a gleam appeared in his eye, and he sprang to his feet. The blanket fell down in a heap as he pointed to the sea, the wind whipping his black hair forward into this face. "You game?"

  "I cannot swim," Lan said, but Prez had already grabbed his hands, and they ran across the sand and howled into the cold thrashing water of the ocean.

  If you enjoyed this, try another story from Alex Douglas and Torquere Press!

  A Rare Thing

  Benedict Smith is an artist-turned-mature-student, and is feeling the pinch of funding his new studies. Forced to sell some of his grandmother's jewelry to get some extra cash, it's not just the antiques that have caught his eye but also Sam, the handsome owner of Carson's Antiques. However, Sam has jewelry of his own -- a wedding ring. Resigned to another doomed crush on a married man, Benedict brings an old necklace in to be valued with surprising results. Is all jewelry really what it appears to be?