Salute to the Sun

by Jenn Burke

  The moment’s reflection had been enough for his thigh to stop complaining. Drawing in a breath, Felix breathed out and contracted. Folded his belly, dipped his head and wedged his right ankle behind his neck.

  “Holy shit.”

  He had a single moment to revel in his accomplishment before the pain hit.

  A howl tore from his throat, a primal sound that echoed from the metal walls of his quarters. When it met his ears again, his yell sounded like a scream. Felix pushed at his leg and more pain burned from the back of his knee to his groin. Letting his hands fall away, he grappled with breath—stifling another scream—and sought the place of calm he knew he’d need to get his fucking ankle off the back of his neck.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

  Breathe in, breath out. In, out. Tighten and release? No, fuck no…ow, ow, ow.

  “Shit, shit, shit…”

  He needed to calm down, which would be easier done without his foot wedged behind his head.

  “Of all the stupid things.”

  Either the pain had begun to fade, or he’d killed his leg. Maybe shock was descending. Oh, man. If he passed out like this, the crew would piss themselves.

  They’d think he’d been trying to suck his own cock, wouldn’t they?

  “Fuck. Okay, I need to calm down. Calm. Caaaaaalm.”

  Ow, ow, ow.

  He needed to find that place of peace and wholeness that he’d been searching for. He needed to relax. Closing his eyes, Felix practiced a couple of the breathing techniques he’d learned. He distracted himself by trying to remember whether he’d inhaled or exhaled through his left nostril last. When he felt calm—in a fucking relative way—he tried to pull his foot away from his neck. His sweaty fingers slipped on his ankle bone. The tension in his leg remained on lockdown.

  He was stuck.

  “Shit.”

  Breathe in through the left nostril and out through the right. If he could pull the hemispheres of his brain into balance—

  Ow, goddamn ow. Shit! “Double shit.”

  He needed to call someone. Either that, or spend the rest of his life folded in half and in agony. Who should he call?

  Elias would laugh until he choked. Qek might not have the strength to help him pull his leg back over his head. She would also likely make several embarrassing observations while making the attempt. Zed… Zed would collapse onto the deck with Elias, hooting and howling.

  He’d have to call Nessa. This qualified as a medical emergency, didn’t it? And, as ship’s doctor, she’d have to keep his confidence. He couldn’t count on her not to pass judgment, but he could count on her not to tease him…verbally. She’d laugh with her eyes instead.

  Releasing his hold on his ankle, Felix tapped his bracelet. “Ness.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I, um… I need some assistance in my quarters.”

  “You all right? You sound kind of breathless.” Her concern was evident through the comm, as well as her unasked questions. Had he discovered where she’d hidden the sedatives? Had he found some other supply?

  “I was…” Don’t say meditating. “Exercising and… got stuck.”

  After a beat of silence, she answered, “On my way.”

  She tried not to laugh, he could see that. To her credit, the surprise in Nessa’s expression far outweighed any humor, but once she got over the shock of finding her ship’s engineer with his ankle wedged behind his neck, mirth lit her merry brown eyes.

  “What were you doing?”

  “Not jerking off.” Or trying any other method of self-pleasure.

  “I can see that.” Her features took on a business-like cast while she ran her hands up and down his thigh, the touch not intimate but stupidly embarrassing. “Lord, Fix, the muscle here is so tight. How did you even get your leg back like this?”

  “Determination.”

  She bit her lips together, cheeks rounding to either side. “But why?”

  Huffing out a breath, Felix related a version of his story. His search for a meditative technique, his discovery of yoga.

  “This is yoga?”

  Felix waved at the holo display where the dude with the broken legs continued to look completely blissful. He’s obviously dislocated his brain from his body somehow.

  “That does not look like fun.” She pressed her thumbs into the back of his knee. “Okay, you need to relax or we’ll never get your leg down.”

  “Then stop asking me why I put it there.”

  Of course the hatch to his quarters slid open right then to reveal Zed, who paused in the act of ducking to stare, openmouthed, at the tableau before him. “What the ever loving fuck.”

  Elias’s face poked out from behind Zed’s bulky shoulder. “Holy crap.”

  Behind the pair of them, Qek clicked.

  Kill me now.

  Leaving off her ministrations, Nessa stood to shoo away their audience. “What are you all doing here?”

  “You ran down to engineering waving your medical wallet,” Elias said. “What do you think we’re doing here? I thought Fix must have got his hand stuck in the core or something.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Eli.” Shouting had the effect of tightening the tendon along the back of his leg. Fuck. He had to remember that.

  Recovering his composure, Zed stepped inside. “Can I help?”

  “Actually, yes. We need to relax the muscle in his leg so that we can get his foot out from behind his head.”

  “How did—”

  “I wasn’t jerking off.” Must. Not. Shout.

  “Perhaps a muscle relaxant would be in order?” Qek said.

  Nessa nodded at Qek. “I might have to.”

  “Aww, Ness, those always mess with my stomach.” Muscle relaxers and Felix were old foes. He’d broken so many bones and torn so many muscles that his body often felt like a worn out kick bag. Some mornings, his back spasmed and his neck locked up. Regular work outs usually kept him limber, but putting his leg behind his head had probably reversed two years of progress.

  “It’s either that or we wait for you to calm down.”

  With all the crew in his room looking at him like he’d sprouted a second head.

  “Hit me.”

  She fiddled with the dial on her medical wallet. The hypo hissed and seconds later, his body melted into a pile of goo, limb by fucking limb. Zed and Ness eased his ankle out from behind his head. Elias fetched a bucket. Qek held his head while he vomited.

  Nothin’ like crew.

  Curiously, their care did not smother him. Not completely. And in it, he found a measure of peace, but not the sort he’d been looking for.

  He woke up with Zed’s nose pressed to his cheek.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Smelling you.”

  Felix shifted and turned his head so that he could press his nose to Zed’s. “That’s weird.”

  “Tell me you’ve never smelled my skin.”

  After a pause in which Felix could not deny he’d ever inhaled the scent of his lover, deeply and profoundly, storing the essence of him against every future, Zed smiled—the movement of his lips only visible as a bunching of his cheeks and wrinkling around his eyes.

  “Ass.”

  Zed pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Takes one to know one.”

  With a grunt, Felix disengaged, pulling back far enough to bring Zed’s face into focus, and put a little space between them. Breathing space. “Did I get to brush my teeth before I passed out?” Felix ran his tongue over his relatively smooth teeth to answer his own question.

  “Yeah, you pretty much insisted on it.”

  “I’ve had experience waking up with my face in a puddle of puke.”

  “You don’t say.” Zed pursed his lips. “So…”

  “Why did I have my leg behind my head?”

  “Looked bloody painful.”

  A smile creaked across his face. “I
t was.”

  Zed stroked his cheek, large fingers tweaking his ear before disappearing into his hair. Closing his eyes, Felix leaned into the caress. He could meditate like this. With Zed touching him, caring for him, he could find the will to let go. And he didn’t have to go far, he could just slip into the man next to him, claim his skin, his peace, wear it as his own for a while.

  Felix opened his eyes. “I was trying to meditate.” Zed’s eyes widened. “It’s called yoga.”

  “But you don’t even like sitting cross-legged.”

  “I still don’t. I’m getting better at it, but—”

  “You’ve been practicing sitting with your legs crossed?”

  Felix shrugged the shoulder he had pressed into the bedding. “I thought if…” A sigh gusted out of him and suddenly looking at Zed became too painful. He closed his eyes again, hoping the act of shutting them would dampen the urge to tell Zed he wanted to be like him. That he craved his health and wholeness.

  Zed continued rubbing his head, fingers sifting through short curls as they navigated the curve of his skull. “So sitting still isn’t your thing.”

  “You think?”

  “Nor is putting your leg behind your head.”

  “You look so fucking peaceful when you meditate. It’s... kinda scary.” Opening his eyes, Felix discovered a Zed who appeared more concerned than peaceful. “I don’t know if I could do that. Go to that place. I think if I ran out of things to fight, I’d—”

  What the fuck was he saying? He really should be saving this for their therapist.

  Zed curled a hand around his shoulder and pulled him into a hug. Craving the warmth and comfort of his lover’s embrace, Felix melted against him, tucking a knee between Zed’s and putting a hand around his hip. He breathed in the scent of Zed—woodsy soap and heated skin, that hint of sex which was probably just Zed being Zed.

  “Your thing is movement, Flick.” Zed’s chest rumbled beneath the words. “It always has been. You’re still enough when you tinker, but it’s when you move that you’re most at peace.”

  “Feels wrong.”

  Zed’s lips claimed his ear, nipping along the ridge. “Not wrong.” His breath washed over the fine hairs at the back of Felix’s neck, stirring and arousing.

  Could movement equal peace? Could he be chasing a ghost?

  Flattening his palm to Zed’s chest, Felix pushed, encouraging Zed to lie on his back. He climbed aboard to straddle Zed’s hips. They half-dressed—shorts, no shirts—and he vaguely remembered Zed helping him to the bathroom and back, stripping off his clothes and all but carrying him to bed. Felix’s muscles had been too relaxed for him to do any of it himself.

  “You could have taken advantage of me last night,” he said.

  Zed showed him a lazy smile. “As if I need to wait for you to be drugged.”

  “You could have topped.”

  In the same tone, Zed said, “Like I care who tops or bottoms. So long as it’s you.”

  Felix leaned forward, smoothing his hands up over Zed’s chest, fingertips sifting through dark curls. He loved Zed’s chest hair—the feel of it beneath his palms, the tickle of it against his chest or back. Zed wasn’t a bear, but he was the hairiest lover Felix had ever had and he adored every single curl. He toyed with one of Zed’s new nipple piercings, grinning at the slight hiss issuing from Zed’s parted lips, and bent down to catch the tight little nub of flesh and metal between his teeth. The small point hardened further beneath his flicking tongue. Moving to the left, Felix delivered the same sweet torture, Zed’s catching breath and light moans sending coils of arousal through his center.

  Sex really was the best meditation, except…

  Felix lifted his head. “I did this thing called ‘Salute to the Sun’ and I liked that. You start standing, then stretch a couple different ways while breathing. Maybe you’d like to do it with me sometime?”

  To his credit, Zed didn’t immediately moan and ask why they were talking about meditation while Felix sat on his hardening cock delivering lightning strikes to his nipple piercings via his tongue. Felix would have moaned. Hissed a bit. Maybe complained. Instead, Zed managed a warm and companionable look. A peaceful look. “Sure.” Then, fastening one of his ever-warm hands around Felix’s hip, he said, “I’ll always be here, you know that. Whatever you need. You want to talk, we’ll talk. You want to move, we’ll move.”

  Felix arched a brow. “And if I want to fuck?”

  Zed grinned in response.

  Felix felt it then, the peace that usually eluded him. Stillness, movement, therapy, meditation… It would all be meaningless if he didn’t have Zed. Then there was this, the thing they could do together, and only together, without conscious effort. Because it was natural. Because it was… theirs.

  Leaning forward again, Felix traced the tip of his tongue up the side of Zed’s neck. Nipped the stubbled line of his jaw. Let his fingers roam over every line of beloved musculature that cut Zed’s torso into perfection. Kissed his shoulders, sucked on the lobe of each ear. He worshipped his lover and his friend, the man who meant everything to him. The man who had died and come back—who had broken him, and wanted to help rebuild him.

  He tended the center of his own personal galaxy, making Zed writhe beneath him. His heart, his fragile heart that had to beat outside his body, in the soul of another.

  God, he loved this man. Words always failed him when he tried to express how he felt. But he could do this, he had this.

  And this was his peace.

  “You are my sun,” he said, lips coasting down Zed’s cheek.

  Zed breathed in. His eyes shone.

  With his mouth, his hands, his body and his soul, Felix gave salute to his sun.

  THE END

  The CHAOS STATION series:

  Chaos Station

  Lonely Shore

  Skip Trace

  Inversion Point

  Phase Shift (May 2016)

  Visit our website for chapter excerpts.

  http://chaosstation.com

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  SALUTE TO THE SUN

  Copyright © 2016 by Jennifer R.L. Burke and Kelly Jensen