Served With a Twist

by Jet Lupin

  Mikela was finally going home. The worst was over. Everything was out in the open, and Ramzan could do nothing without implicating himself.

  “You know how to reach me if you need to,” they said as they got out of the car. “But I’ve got the feeling you guys have got this covered.”

  Samson and Cut held themselves back in the car for Gray’s sake, but when they got home, the second the door closed, the clothes came off.

  There were so many things ahead of them. Legal action, securing Samson’s stake in the new dome, but none of that mattered. The hardest part was over. They’d face anything that came together.

  They didn’t make it to the bedroom, collapsing together on the living room floor. With a brief reprieve for lube, Cut was over Samson, ready to finally, finally take him in the only way he hadn’t yet. Samson had said all of him was Cut’s. And all of Cut was his.

  He tasted Samson everywhere, holding nothing back. He seemed a little overwhelmed, but he begged Cut not to stop. Cut couldn’t, not until they’d joined. He fitted himself inside him, stars burst before his eyes. Gods, it had never felt this satisfying with anyone else. It likely wouldn’t again. This was it. Cut was home.

  He hooked a finger in Samson’s collar, tugging on it, and Samson wrapped his thick legs around Cut, refusing to let him go. There was no other place for Cut than here with his lover. This was where he belonged.

  He reached between them, to stroke him, but the way Samson squirmed, he didn’t have long. Cut tore at the rug beneath them, digging his nails into it, as he pumped his hips, pushing up off the floor with his toes. He couldn’t hold back if he wanted to with Samson so tight around him, mewling his name. Soon he was coming deep inside Samson, so hard his legs felt weak. He’d never experienced anything better than this.

  “I love you,” he said again. He’d never been surer of anything in his life.

  Samson kissed him again.

  Epilogue

  “M

  r. Jones?”

  Cut stifled a yawn as he lay abed, his eyes still closed. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was far too early to be taking calls.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Whittle, from Komatsuna.”

  Cut remembered Whittle as a nervous man with a penchant for rambling. Intelligent, well meaning, but just the dullest individual Cut had ever met. “I know it’s early,” Whittle went on, “and I hate to disturb you, but there’s been a development regarding plot #6904. Mr. Ba’s plot.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  “When we were breaking ground for the irrigation system, we unearthed some items. Old items worth a lot of money to the right people. I can’t say how fragile they are, but protocol says we don’t move them to keep from damaging them. Since this is Mr. Ba’s land, they’re his and yours to do with as you please, though, I suggest we suspend operations until an appraiser has had a look at them.”

  Whittle had his attention now. Cut sat up, glanced at his pod. It was barely 0500. They certainly got an early start. But when you didn’t have to wait for first light, why delay?

  “Yes, let’s do that. Shut down operations for now. Mr. Ba and I will be there this afternoon to see for ourselves.”

  That seemed to calm Whittle some. He’d call back if there were more developments, but he certainly hoped not. He sent a picture of the site, and a huge roped off area was quarantined. They had either found a lot or the find was very big.

  There was so much to do. He’d have to see if there were any appraisers left planet side capable of taking on a job of this size, and for how long construction needed to be stopped. If whatever they found turned out to be worth something, they’d make up for the delay.

  “What’s going on?” Samson murmured. Cut couldn’t make him out in the dark, but he didn’t have to see to know those eyes were on him like they always were.

  Six months had gone by since that very public confrontation with the elder Ba, and yet life felt surprisingly normal. Yes, what felt like every week they had to go to court to make sure some paper work wasn’t misfiled as the opposition’s legal team continued to claim in a last ditch effort to stall proceedings.

  The civil cases against the elder Ba were settled out of court. Ramzan was to stay away from Cut at a distance greater than the current size of Izanami. In addition, he had to make monetary recompense for Cut’s mental and physical suffering, as well as giving up his stake Deyaa without a fight. Cut did the only thing that made sense with the money. He paid off his bike and funneled the rest back into Deyaa. That move bought him a sizeable stake, earning him a seat on the board. The other members didn’t seem to like how he got his place there. Some even alleged that he’d slept his way there—which wasn’t exactly wrong—but Cut didn’t care. He had Samson’s ear like no one else, so he easily ignored their grievances. They were free to leave.

  And as for Rami…

  The last Cut had heard from him, his father was trying to get him to be his eyes and ears on the station, but calls between planets were so tricky sometimes. They just kept losing the signal. As long as Rami didn’t leave, he was free of his father, too. But it remained to be seen if he would keep on this path or return to Earth.

  “We need to go over to Tiamat. The team there found something at the second sight. It might be huge.”

  The sheets rustled as Samson shifted until the firm length of his body was pressed against Cut’s. “How huge? Skip breakfast huge?”

  “Not if we only have cereal. It’s a pretty big find.”

  Samson considered this a moment. “What about skip our morning session huge?”

  Cut smirked. “Nothing’s that big.”

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  Stories longing to have words put to them were in Jet’s heart from an early age. Jet enjoys exploring the connections and similarities between people whether they be shifters, vampires, or aliens, rendering the unknowable very knowable indeed.

  Jet’s days are spent toiling away at a keyboard, slumped over a pen and paper hunting for those words, or playing around on twitter with a partner, and two rambunctious cats for company in the temperamental North Eastern US.