by L.V. Lloyd
8 Propositioned
For the next week or so, Matthews was very careful to keep his interactions with the crew and officers brief and formal; he wanted to allow time for the high emotions of the trial to disperse before resuming his usual, more casual, behaviour.
Everything was more or less back to normal when Matthews found himself alone with Kent in his quarters for the first time since the trial. Kent had come to see him to discuss an exercise the ship would be conducting over the next few days, and after they finalised the remaining details, Matthews asked him to stay on for a minute. He hesitated for a moment then cleared his throat, “Uh... Lieutenant, do you remember saying that if I ever wanted a... a relationship with one of the men, I could just ask?”
Kent stared at him in shocked surprise. He swallowed. “Yes sir, I think so.”
Matthews began to pace back and forth, not meeting Kent’s eyes, working up his nerve.
“Well, I want someone.” He stopped.
“Who, sir?” The words were scarcely audible.
The Captain’s resolution failed at the last minute. “Um, no-one in particular.”
Kent looked excruciatingly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I really don’t think I am the best person to discuss this with.”
Matthews took a deep breath and braced himself. “Actually, you are. You are the only person I want.”
After years of never allowing himself to ever think about the men under his control in a sexual way; making do with casual sex whenever he was on leave, it was as if the trial had opened the floodgates. Given him permission to be himself. The crew knew and accepted the fact that he was an om—there was no need to hide his sexuality any more. Hearing Kent defend him, confess that he would be honoured by his advances, had given him hope. A very foolish hope as was now painfully evident.
Kent could only stare helplessly at him and the Captain already regretted his indiscretion. He tried to smile. “I know you meant what you said to Harper but doing anything about it is quite another matter, isn’t it?” He looked straight at Kent for the first time, and his expression told him he was right. “I wonder how far... Lieutenant, take off your clothes. That’s an order!”
Kent stared at him, still trying to absorb the initial shock. Then with trembling fingers he started to unfasten his uniform. Having half expected a punch in the face, Matthews went as white as a sheet.
“Stop! I’m sorry, Kent, I didn’t think you’d do it.” He looked at him more closely. “You’re scared,” he said in a strained voice, “You’re scared, of me.” He swung violently away. “Sweet gods, I wish I’d kept my bloody mouth shut!”
Kent looked wildly at the door, then sank trembling into a chair. He finally found his voice. “You... you really want me?”
“Yes.” Matthews had his back to him, bracing himself for what he would say next.
“Hell! Wouldn’t you rather have someone else? Another om maybe?” He was pleading.
“No.” There was a long silence. “I was hoping that perhaps... you know, some men who act homophobic are actually... not. Some find they are actually oms themselves.”
Kent had not heard that before but he did not think he was one of them. “I’m not sure if I can do what you want of me,” he spoke as if the words were being torn out of him.
The Captain shut his eyes and asked flatly, “Would you sleep with me tonight?”
“No sir.”
“I think we’d better try and forget the whole thing, Lieutenant,” he said harshly.
“Sir, I know it’s not going to be easy, but maybe... maybe if you take things very slowly I’ll be able to cope.”
“Or you may not.”
“No sir,” he agreed.
“You should go,” said Matthews, suddenly decisive. “I think perhaps we both need some time to think about this. Will you come and see me here again tomorrow night? Just to talk,” he added hastily.
Kent nodded. “I can do that.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Matthews ushered Kent to the door, then turned to face him with a serious expression. “I need to apologise. I’m sorry for what happened earlier, I hope I haven’t upset you too much.”
Kent smiled briefly and went straight to his own cabin, his head in a whirl. Just what had he gotten himself into? Why on Earth had he not just said “No” and walked out when the Captain propositioned him? What had he been thinking to offer him even the slightest glimmer of encouragement?