Fallout

by Ariel Tachna

  “I had to work,” Derek replied smoothly, “but I’m looking forward to more faculty functions. It’s always fun to rile up the natives.”

  Paul laughed. “I suppose Texas isn’t known for its tolerance, although we’ve been well received at the university so far.”

  “University campuses tend to be a little more open-minded than the average Podunk town,” Brad said. “Brad Smith-Wallace.”

  “Welcome, both of you,” Derek said. “I do have to keep an eye on dinner so it doesn’t burn. Sam told me when we first met that I had to learn to make sambar if I wanted to keep him.”

  Sambit had said no such thing, but he didn’t bother correcting Derek. It made a good story if nothing else, and Derek had proven to be a phenomenal cook, often reconstructing recipes from restaurants and improving on them. He couldn’t wait to tell his mother what suggestions Derek had for her sambar.

  DINNER passed amid much joviality. Derek found Paul and Brad to be men after his own heart, open and playful where their sexuality was concerned, not above a practical joke or two, and all-around enjoyable, friendly people. He was jealous as hell. Not that he doubted Sambit’s dedication to their relationship, but Paul and Brad got to go home together every night. They got to share a bed at night and a breakfast table in the morning. They were the threads in each other’s lives.

  “How attached are you to this place?” Derek asked when Paul and Brad had left.

  “It’s faculty housing,” Sambit said. “I’m not attached to it at all, but there’s never been a reason to move anywhere else. Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to go home tomorrow night, but two hours is too much of a commute for every day,” Derek said. “I think we should look for a place somewhere around Cypress. We’d each have an hour’s drive that way, which would suck, but it would mean we’d be able to live together instead of only seeing each other on weekends.”

  “What about your house?” Sambit said. “You’ve put all that work into it.”

  Derek shrugged. “If you decide to take a job in industry, either at NASA or elsewhere, it might put you in town enough that we could move back into it together. With all the remodeling and rebuilding after the storm, I’m sure I’d have no trouble leasing it out in the meantime. And if you decide to continue teaching here, I’ll sell it and we’ll put the work into a new house together. It’s a building. It’s not irreplaceable.”

  “So, you want to move in together?”

  “Don’t you?” Derek asked. “We spend every weekend together. We talk all the time. I would’ve thought that was the next logical step.”

  “No, I mean, yes, it is,” Sambit said quickly. “You just told me at one point that you had a really hard time sharing space with anyone. I thought that was a nice way of telling me we’d keep separate residences and keep going like we have been.”

  “I do have a hard time,” Derek admitted. “I’m probably borderline OCD where things like that are concerned, but you’re different. Having you at my house doesn’t grate. Being here with you doesn’t make me want to run back to my own safe place. We’ll have to find someplace big enough for both of us and that will accept Fido if we rent or lease instead of buying.”

  “So does this mean you love me?” Sambit asked.

  Derek froze. The words had come to mind more than once, but Sambit had been very clear on the matter. “I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

  “I never said that,” Sambit protested. “I said I didn’t believe in love at first sight. I believe in a lasting affection based on common ground and mutual respect. I believe in choosing to spend your life with a person who makes you happy and whom you want to make happy. I just don’t think you can know who that person is at first glance. We moved past first glance several months ago.”

  “So are you saying you love me?” Derek asked, not quite willing to put himself out there first, not in words anyway. He’d show how he felt in actions all day—and all night—long. He’d make love to Sambit until he screamed, fix him anything he wanted to eat, give him a backrub when he had a headache, and generally do anything he could to take care of his lover. Saying “I love you” was an entirely different matter.

  “I’m saying that despite the obvious differences, we have enough common ground, mutual respect, and sheer stubbornness to make me want to give this a try.”

  “So you do love me!” Derek crowed. “It’s fine. You don’t have to say the words. It’ll be our little secret.”

  “What about you?” Sambit pressed.

  “Say you’ll help me find a place in Cy-Fair where we can live together and I’ll tell you.”

  “That’s bribery.”

  “So?”

  “So I don’t believe in bribery.”

  “The same way you don’t believe in love, huh? Move in with me, Sam?”

  “Fine,” Sambit huffed.

  Derek tackled him, knocking him sideways onto the couch so he could cover Sambit’s body with his own. “Yes, I love you. Don’t make me say it again.”

  Sambit didn’t reply, simply lifting his head and kissing Derek with such power and passion that Derek didn’t need to hear the words. If Sambit kept kissing him that way, Derek might never need to hear them. He wormed his hands between them, pulling Sambit’s shirt free from his pants so he could find skin. Sambit raked his hands down Derek’s back, his fingernails biting even through the cloth. Derek hissed softly, rearing up to pull the polo over his head. Sambit leaned up and latched onto Derek’s nipple. “Fuck,” Derek said, his voice breaking on a groan. “Keep doing that.”

  Sambit didn’t reply in words, but words during sex were overrated. Derek liked actions much better, especially when Sambit sucked harder and nipped at Derek’s chest just the way he liked. Derek shifted on the couch, urging Sambit to spread his legs so Derek could rut against the juncture of his thighs. As hard as they both were, Derek figured this wouldn’t take long. He wasn’t quite willing to let it happen that fast, though, so he pulled away from Sambit’s tempting mouth. “Too many clothes,” he said, tugging at Sambit’s belt.

  “Pot, kettle,” Sambit replied, popping the button on Derek’s jeans.

  It would be easy to strip and return to the same position and rub against Sambit until they came, but Derek wanted more than that tonight. He pulled Sambit’s pants down, pushing them off his feet. “Turn over,” he said, nudging Sambit’s side and guiding him onto his hands and knees.

  “What are you doing?” Sambit asked, his voice betraying a bit of concern.

  “Not fucking you,” Derek said. “We don’t have lube or condoms, so stop worrying. I’ll fuck you another time.”

  Sambit didn’t relax, but Derek didn’t wait. He figured he had one chance at this or else they’d be back to frottage on the couch. While he had nothing against frottage, tonight he wanted something a little more. Hoping to encourage a little more ease on Sambit’s part, Derek slid his hands up his lover’s back, stroking the supple skin and strong muscles. While his own skin was tanner than usual from the summer sun, he still looked starkly pale next to Sambit’s dark complexion, a contrast that fascinated Derek. Bending so his body was draped over Sambit’s, he pressed a kiss on Sambit’s spine as high as he could reach, then slowly worked his way down Sambit’s back, lingering over each vertebra. Sambit gasped and mewled softly, the sounds all Derek needed to know Sambit was enjoying his attentions. The tension seeped slowly from Sambit’s body as Derek ministered to him. When Derek reached the base of Sambit’s spine, he lingered, his hands massaging Sambit’s cheeks, parting them every so often, preparing Sambit for the rest of what Derek had in mind. Finally Sambit’s edginess faded, and he moved with Derek’s caresses rather than remaining frozen in place. Taking that as his cue, Derek nudged Sambit forward onto his elbows as he licked his way down Sambit’s crease to the dark hole nestled inside.

  Sambit cried out so sharply that Derek lifted his head. “Don’t tell me no one’s ever rimmed you before.”

  “No
one’s ever rimmed me before.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat,” Derek promised. He took his time, lingering over the preliminaries, giving Sambit time to get used to the idea of Derek’s tongue on his ass before he asked Sambit to get used to the idea of Derek’s tongue in his ass. One step at a time, and all that.

  Sambit tasted vaguely of sweat, but underneath that, Derek could smell his desire and just a whiff of Sambit’s cologne, something that hinted of sandalwood and hot sultry nights in an Indian boudoir surrounded by silks and gold. Sambit would probably laugh at the image, but Derek found it incredibly arousing, with Sambit cast as the rajah and Derek as the supplicant come to beg the prince’s favor. He wondered how Sambit felt about role playing, because Derek was thinking that sounded like a mighty fine idea. Like tomorrow.

  First, though, he had to finish introducing his lover to this variation on oral sex. To that end, he narrowed the focus of his attentions, moving from the full length of Sambit’s crease and even his balls to just the patch of skin around his entrance that clenched and jumped beneath Derek’s tongue.

  Little noises escaped from Sambit’s lips as Derek continued to lavish pleasure on him, and then Derek rolled his tongue and speared it past the loosening entrance. Sambit cried out sharply, rearing up and dislodging Derek. He caught Sambit, pulling him against his chest, his cock slotting into the crease as he stroked Sambit’s chest with tender hands. “Too much?”

  Sambit shook his head, rutting back against Derek, riding his cock.

  “Do you want to lean back over, or should I take care of you this way?” Derek asked, circling Sambit’s cock with his fist.

  Sambit pulsed his hips against Derek again, making him wish they had lube and condoms handy because he wanted inside that tight ass. That would wait for another night, though. They were both too wound up for that. Now that Sambit was pushing against him so wantonly, Derek wasn’t sure he could pull back even to keep rimming his lover, so he took the choice from Sambit’s hands, picking up a rhythm with his hand and hips designed to send them both soaring as quickly as possible.

  Sambit was hot against him and beneath his hand, his skin burning with the same need that seared through Derek. “Come on, sweetheart,” Derek urged. “Show me how much you love me.”

  “Sweetheart?” Sambit rasped. “Be careful or I’m going to start calling you sanam.”

  “Sunnem?” Derek repeated.

  “Sanam. It’s Hindi. It means darling.”

  “I like it. You can call me that anytime you want,” Derek decided, licking Sambit’s neck.

  Sambit tipped his head to the side, encouraging Derek’s caress, so Derek did it again, adding a hint of teeth this time, his hand still moving over Sambit’s erection, keeping them both on edge. Sambit groaned at the gentle bite so Derek experimented again, a little harder this time. Sambit’s cock jumped in his hand. Derek smiled and latched onto the curve of muscle, sucking and biting, determined to raise a mark that would be visible even on Sambit’s mahogany skin. Within seconds Sambit convulsed beneath Derek’s hands, slumping forward onto the couch again.

  Derek followed him down, folding his body over Sambit’s recumbent one, rubbing against the sweaty skin as he chased his own pleasure.

  “Let me roll over,” Sambit said, his breath still coming in harsh pants.

  Derek pushed up onto his hands and knees so Sambit could roll beneath him, pulling Derek back down so Derek’s hard cock pressed against Sambit’s sated one. Derek kissed Sambit frantically as he rocked against his lover’s body, the spurs of need sharp with the smell of Sambit’s release fresh and hot between them.

  Sambit broke their kiss and framed Derek’s face with his hands. “Yes, I love you, sanam.”

  Derek dove back into the kiss, the words enough to break his control. He spurted between their bodies, his release mixing with Sambit’s. All tension gone, he sagged against Sambit, relaxing into the arms that encircled him. “Every time you call me that, I’m going to remember you saying you love me.”

  “Good,” Sambit said. “I hear it every time you call me Sam.”

  “I thought you hated that nickname.”

  “Not when you say it.”

  Derek smiled. “I love you, Sam.”

  Epilogue

  “ARE you sure it’s a good idea for me to come with you?” Derek asked.

  Sambit had dragged him into Houston to Little Delhi to buy a new suit, and not just any suit, but a kurta pajama, an Indian suit with pants and an embroidered tunic. Part of Diwali, Sambit had explained, was wearing new clothes and cleaning your house and welcoming the goddess Lakshmi, who would bring wealth and goodness to her devotees. The goddess part was a bit too much for Derek, but he could get behind a clean house and an evening with friends and family, and if it meant he got to go with Sambit to the temple, he would even put on his kurta pajama and hope he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt. Sambit and the shopkeeper had brought out suits of every jeweled shade for his approval, but Derek wasn’t used to that much color and settled on a burnished gold tunic with simple maroon beading and embroidery accompanied by white pants. He still felt odd in the high collar with no tie or jacket, not that he really needed a coat in Houston at the end of October, but this was what Sambit insisted was traditional attire for this kind of event, and Derek was willing to do pretty much anything to make his lover happy.

  Sambit hadn’t felt any such constraints, choosing an outfit with a turquoise tunic, beaded at the neckline and sleeves and in small rosettes over the body of the garment, combined with scarlet trousers that matched the beading. It should have been garish, but against Sambit’s dark skin, the colors popped. Sambit looked good enough to eat.

  “So will there be a service?” Derek asked as they drove toward the temple.

  “No, it’s not that formalized,” Sambit said. “We’ll light the lamps, of course, but it’s a time of gathering, of celebration. There will be food because no Indian event is complete without more food than ten times the number of guests could eat. It means so much to me that you’d come with me tonight, that you’d put on a kurta pajama even though you’d be more comfortable in an American suit, and that you’d be here with me.”

  “It’s important to you, therefore it’s important to me,” Derek said with a shrug.

  “And that is very precious to me, sanam.”

  Derek smiled. Sambit didn’t say I love you very often, not that Derek said it much more, but he called Derek sanam regularly, and it never failed to make Derek smile.

  Sambit had told Derek that Diwali was the festival of lights, but that hadn’t prepared him for the sight that greeted him when they arrived at the temple. Strings of white lights covered the building so that it shone bright as day against the darkness. Cars filled the parking lot, and everyone getting out and going inside was dressed in the same vivid colors and fabrics as Sambit. Despite wearing Indian clothes, Derek felt positively plain in his muted gold tunic.

  “You look very handsome,” Sambit said, interrupting Derek’s thoughts, “and everyone is going to see that you’re wearing a kurta pajama and be thrilled that you’re trying to fit in.”

  “They aren’t going to look past the fact that we’re together.”

  Sambit shrugged. “Their loss, not ours, but I’ve watched you charm people. You’ll have them all eating out of the palm of your hand before long.”

  Derek hoped Sambit was right.

  Inside the temple, it was absolute chaos, people milling around and greeting friends, setting up tables for the buffet and for eating. Oil lamps and candles glittered on every surface, casting the temple in a golden glow, the smoke from the lights mingling with the smoke from the incense to create a nearly overwhelming sensory experience. Derek didn’t wait to be prompted, slipping his shoes off at the door. He and Sambit had talked about the proper way to greet the “aunties,” as Sambit called them, the older ladies who made up the backbone of the temple no matter what their husbands liked to believe.
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  When Sambit introduced Derek to the first one to approach them, Derek stretched out his hands, palms touching prayer style, and offered them with a shallow bow. She covered his hands with hers in greeting. “Eliama Aunty, this is my partner, Derek Marshall.”

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Derek said, his own upbringing kicking in.

  “It’s about time you brought someone with you to temple,” Eliama scolded. “It’s not good for a man to be alone.”

  The response was so completely the opposite of what Derek had feared that it took him a minute to respond. Sambit’s expression betrayed equal surprise. “I wasn’t sure how people would feel.”

  “Bah, they can feel what they want. I’ve watched you. You didn’t look at the girls, you didn’t accept the offers. You needed something else. If this man gives you that, then all is as it should be.”

  “Sukriya, Aunty.”

  Derek hadn’t learned much Hindi beyond the endearment Sambit used, but he knew that one.

  “Sukriya, Aunty,” he echoed, wanting to add his own thanks to Sambit’s. “I hope I’ll be worthy of your faith in us.”

  “You’re here, you’re wearing a kurta pajama, you’re barefoot. If you can eat with your fingers, all is good.”

  “You should taste his sambar,” Sambit confided. “It’s even better than my mother’s.”

  “Don’t let your mother hear you say that, or she’ll disown you both.”

  “Yes, Aunty.”

  “Go eat, enjoy, celebrate. It’s Diwali!”

  The rest of the evening passed swiftly and in similar vein. If anyone had a problem with them being there together, they kept their opinions to themselves. Derek smiled at the aunty who offered him a fork and proceeded to eat his biryani with his hands just like everyone else.

  As they were leaving, Derek stopped to look back at the temple and its denizens. “You know,” he said slowly, “maybe next year I’ll get that green outfit you wanted me to buy.”