by Robin Banks
“What about them?”
He blinks. “They make me kinda horny.”
“Oh?” Asher doesn’t really talk dirty. Gwen more than makes up for it: the stuff that comes out of that woman’s mouth is so filthy it still occasionally shocks me. She takes directness to a whole new level, and that’s hot as hell. Somehow, though, Asher half-mumbling something vague through a blush is even hotter. At least, that’s how it feels right now. “Horny, hey? Even when all you’ve got to play with is me?”
He tries to frown but doesn’t do a very good job of it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, we’re suffering from an overabundance of manly parts…”
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Not a chance.”
He’s just about to object when I open up a channel between us. I’m still feeling the aftermath of whatever the hell it was that happened earlier, our chat made me feel very close to him, and he’s pretty fucking hot. He’s also truthful: he really is horny. When our feelings merge, his remonstrations turn into a hoarse moan. He stretches out to reach for me, but I stop him.
“Asher? Will you let me try something?”
“What? Yeah. You never asked before, not in so many words.”
“This needs asking. Do you trust me?”
“Yeah. And I trust you to stop if I ask you to.”
“Ok then. I don’t know if this is going to work.”
There’s something I do when I’m around people and I need to turn their signal down. It’s not like shielding, which blocks everything out; this just takes the edge off my perception of their emotions. I don’t have a word for it and I don’t know how I do it, just that it works. I’ve wondered now and then whether it’d work the other way round, whether I can use it, or something like it, to turn up what I project. There’s no reason why it should work, but also no reason why it shouldn’t, and frankly right now I don’t care. I just want to see Asher explode.
I realize that something is working when his eyes roll back and his back arches. It’s so sudden that I panic, let go of him, and turn everything back down. He relaxes a bit and his eyes go back to normal, but he’s still breathing hard.
“You ok?”
“Gods. Fuck. Yes.”
“You want me to stop?”
He shakes his head. “Oh hell no. But go easy, ok? Is this your idea of tit-for-tat?”
“Clearly not, if you’re still talking.” I move over to hold him and he wraps his arms around me. I start to turn my projection up as gently as I can. “Say when, ok?”
When his ‘when’ comes, it’s as a strangled cry. I turn it all down a notch and watch for his response, but it’s getting really hard to… Everything is getting really hard. He’s vibrating gently, his eyes closed and his hands gripping me, lost in a space of his own. I wonder whether he’s going to do something to bring this to a close. I don’t think I can. I have no idea what I can do that won’t make it too much for him, I’m having to focus so much on projecting that I doubt I could manage to do anything else, and my dick is about to explode.
I should see it coming when a grin spreads on his face. I should figure out he’s plotting something and brace myself for it, but I’m busy, so I don’t. When his hand moves from my ass I assume he’s going to play with himself and I’m looking forward to that. When it lands on me instead it catches me entirely by surprise and I nearly drop the whole thing. I’m about to tell him that no, this is his turn, when I realize that I’m still projecting, so anything he’s doing to me is hitting him amplified before bouncing back at me in what has become a positive feedback loop, but by then it makes no odds because nobody’s stopping anything anymore.
When I manage to open my eyes, Asher’s are still closed. He’s lying in my arms looking totally blissed out. My joy at seeing him like that is reflected in his smile, and it’s only then I realize that we’re still linked. It’s a wrench to shut the connection down. Asher makes up for it by holding me tighter.
“Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“When we get home,” he mumbles, “can we try this with Gwenny?”
“Sure. If you’re all up for it.”
“Good.” He lets out a long sigh. By the time that’s run out he’s fast asleep. I take a deep breath and dive right after him.
We don’t roll out of bed for the rest of the morning. We spend it rolling around instead, drifting in and out of sleep. We try my new psi-trick a couple of times or three, but only fairly low-key stuff. We’re a bit too worn out for anything more intensive.
By lunchtime we’re both ravenous. Asher is looking so delightfully tousled that I don’t want him to get out of bed, so I volunteer to go and hunt down some food. I feel almost up to facing the world, anyway, though I don’t really feel up to facing Luke. That’s partly why I want to make myself go out and do it: I need to get over that. How I feel makes no odds, anyway, as long as nobody gets wind of it. Luke and I have had an awkward relationship from the moment we first met. This new silliness just adds an extra layer of awkwardness. It’s not a reason for me to avoid the guy, and it’s definitely not a reason for me to let my husband go hungry.
As it turns out, it makes no odds: Luke barely acknowledges my presence. He has just returned from another exploration and, judging from his expression, he must have found something good. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter trying to act casual, but he has the smuggest smirk I’ve ever seen plastered all over his face. The combination is not really working.
“There’s this gig in town tonight. I thought I’d hit it. Dunno if you lot are free and wanna come.”
He flicks a flyer out of his pocket and hands it to Alya. Her eyes widen.
“Kid, you’ve outdone yourself. This is the mother lode.”
“You up for it?”
Raj takes the flyer out of Alya’s hand. She flicks a look up at him.
“No can do, kid. We have a reception or tea party or that kind of thing.”
Raj coughs. “I don’t believe that’s correct. According to my schedule, I have a reception and you have a headache.”
“Beg pardon?”
“I will be forced to attend the reception on my own and convey your deepest apologies. Fragile flower that you are, I couldn’t have you out in public when you’re unwell. Face it, woman, it won’t even be a lie: if you go to this gig you will come home with a headache.”
“I don’t want you to go out there on your own. You’ll hate it!”
“Not as much as I’d hate keeping you from this. Hey, I could drag our Quinn along.” He winks at me. “That would raise a few dozen eyebrows.”
“It’s my duty as your wife…”
He cuts her off. “To do as you’re bloody well told? Then I order thee to go out and have fun.”
“You’re being rather presumptuous.”
“You know I was joking, right? I don’t want to get stabbed in my sleep.”
She purses her lips. “You presume that I could still have fun knowing that you are having a miserable time. I know you’ve had enough of official functions to last you a lifetime.”
“I’m sure I will cope. I will cope a lot better knowing that at least you are having a good time, though the gods know I will never understand what you get out of music that sounds like a metal door repeatedly slamming against a cat.”
Luke takes the flyer out of his hand. “You’re amateurs, you know that? This is how it works: you both go to your reception, Alya has a fainting fit or whatever it is fragile flowers get, and then you both get the fuck out of there and come to the gig with me. Simple.”
“Kid, this isn’t like bunking off school.”
“It’s precisely like that. And it’s not as if anyone from the reception is going to be at the gig, are they? Are you scared or something?”
Raj slaps him on the back. “Luke, you’re a genius. Alya, you must admit this would be fitting the occasion, as well as expedient.”
She th
rows her arms up in the air. “Ok! Let’s do it! Hell, I’ve not done anything like this since… I can’t remember the last time.” She turns to me. “You guys coming? It might not be your kind of thing.”
I take the flyer. “What kind of gig is it?”
Her grin splits her face in two. “Punk gig. Old school. Like, half-a-millennium-old school. If they’re any good, it will blow your motherfucking mind. And your eardrums. If they’re bad… I don’t know if that’s possible, but it’ll still be fun. But I don’t have anything to wear.”
Raj sighs. “My princess, you have all the clothes this ship can carry.”
“I can’t be seen out there in this!”
“You wear that all the time!”
“Well, yeah, but it’s not as if I want to. Kid, I might have to steal one of your shirts.”
Raj goggles at her. “Alya, he’s literally a foot and a half taller than you.”
She shrugs. “I’d just have to cut a chunk off it, then. Or put a belt around it and wear it as a dress. Or go shopping, but I don’t know if there is anywhere decent around here.”
Luke taps her with his foot. “I know a place.”
“You do?”
“Vintage gear. I went in because they had some records in the window. Original Terran vinyl. Everything costs a bomb, though. If we’re buying.” He has a strange, goofy little smile on his face. It takes me a moment to realize that this is the first time I see him genuinely happy.
Alya guffaws. “Don’t tempt me! Seriously, don’t. You’re a bad influence. Kid, I could kiss you. Wanna hit the town?”
He shrugs. “Don’t have anything better to do.”
She turns to Raj, suddenly serious. “Is that ok? I mean, you don’t mind? I won’t be long.”
“If I ever mind anything that makes you this happy, I want you to tell me to fuck off, ok? I’d appreciate you not getting arrested, but I know you feel the same. Do me a favor and get something for me.”
“Are you serious? You’re gonna dress up, or rather down, to go to a gig of music you hate?”
“I don’t want to stick out. Not too much, anyway. I also don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard to blend in. Oh hell, I don’t know! Just remember you’re going to be associated with me in public and let that guide you.”
“Roger, boss!” She throws herself upwards at him and gives him a kiss before skipping out the door, Luke in tow. He’s still smiling.
Raj shakes his head. “I don’t know what it is with this place, but I like it. I haven’t seen her like this in years.” His smile starts to fade. “Not since we got married. She’s happy enough back home, or so I thought, but she never gets like this.”
“Asher is bouncier too, and he loves it at home. Maybe we all just needed a little change of air.”
“I’m not so sure. Sometimes I think I’m keeping a songbird in a cage.”
“Alya? A songbird?”
He winces. “Don’t tell her I said that, ok? I meant that bit about not getting stabbed in my sleep. I know she’s not the meekest person around, but she has had to make a lot of sacrifices to be with me.”
I can’t help chortling. “You do realize that the vast majority of people would do anything to live the life you give her?”
“Yes. That’s why I married her, not them. She liked me despite all of that, not because of it. And she is, you know, wonderful. I just wish I could make her happy.”
“I don’t know if anyone can make someone happy. I don’t think that’s how happiness works. At most you can help people make themself happy, and judging by the way she was acting you seem to be doing ok.”
“That wasn’t me. That was Luke. He found the gig, he found the vintage shop, he made her bounce off the walls, he is off to town with her. All I did was not get in her way, and I would have to be a truly rotten person to even consider doing that.”
“You brought them here. You made all of this possible. And not every man in the world would take in his wife’s teenage protégé and look after him for years. Doesn’t Alya have to thank you for that?”
“What? No! Where did you get that from?”
“Luke. He keeps going on about how kind you are to him, how you don’t owe him anything, and how much he owes you.”
He shakes his head. “That guy needs help, and I’m not saying this lightly. Didn’t he mention saving Alya from a… an unsavory situation? Looking after her while they were with the circus? Convincing her to quit? He might have saved her life. I can never repay that debt. And he wasn’t in Anteia three minutes before he got to work, and he never stopped. Since my stepmom put his brain to use he has made my family a fortune. I feel guilty at times because he could get a much better deal from other companies, maybe even from the Fed: better wages and more recognition, even the ability to pick and choose what projects he works on. But he’s loyal to Alya, and to me and my family by extension, so he stays with us. We’re clipping his wings.”
“That doesn’t come close to how he describes his situation. The way he puts it, he’s basically a charity case.”
Raj’s face drops. “I don’t know what to do with that guy. I really don’t. How can anyone reframe his own life to that extent?”
“Probably the same way someone can conclude that he’s oppressing his wife by making her a fairy-tale princess, particularly when said wife could whoop his ass without breaking a sweat.”
He takes a deep breath and holds it so long that I start to worry. When he lets it out, he seems to sag. “Yes. I guess we all fall prey to the same fallacies, more so when we think ourselves immune.”
“I think you’re missing an important point.”
“Oh?”
“Consider the circumstances. We’re roaming around space on a quest from a bona fide oracle. The survival of a planet is at stake. We’re far away from home. One of us could have died barely a week ago, but didn’t. We’re off for a fun night out. Your wife has apparently regressed to her teens.”
“So?”
“So this isn’t the time for introspection. This is party time.”
Come evening Luke and Alya are buzzing so much that even Asher can’t keep up. His normal exuberance is nothing compared to whatever they’re going through now. Raj and I don’t even try; we just tag along as Alya skips down the road running rings around Luke, who’s walking next to her with an extra bounce in that half-lope of his and that odd little smile on his face. Alya keeps turning back and throwing smiles at Raj, who is completely mesmerized.
We get there early, which is hardly surprising at our pace, but the place is already half full. Alya manages to ooze through the crowd and find us seats at the bar. They’re not great seats, unless one considers perching precariously on a three-legged stool a satisfactory position, but we can get drinks and see the stage from here so everybody is happy.
I feel grossly out of place. Everything is a lot rougher, dirtier, and louder than I’m used to. It all feels a lot more alive, too, and I like that, but even though my psi-bility doesn’t sense any undue aggression in the air I find myself unable to relax. I guess that’s the point of this whole event, though: people didn’t come here to unwind. To unravel, perhaps.
When the music starts I realize that Raj was lying: it sounds infinitely worse than an injured animal ever could. Alya and Luke don’t seem to agree. They look at each other for a second, then they both sprint towards the area right under the stage. Within minutes the entire floor is crammed with thrashing bodies. I can still see Luke, purely because he’s taller than most people, but Alya has disappeared in the throng. When the crowd starts bouncing up and down I start to worry.
I bellow at Raj, “Aren’t you worried she’ll get flattened?”
“A bit. Luke is looking after her, though. I am more concerned about her going off at somebody. Are you, you know, doing your thing with them?”
“Yes and no. There’s a bit too much going on.”
I give the room a quick scan. I can feel Asher clearly, as I alway
s can. He is sitting right by me and appears disinclined to throw himself into what passes for a dance floor here, but it wouldn’t matter if he did. As long as he’s conscious I could feel him anywhere on this station. Our link is solid. Raj is clear too, though he’s so steady he’s hard to notice. Alya is a vague presence, barely noticeable in the soup of feelings the crowd is radiating. I can tell that she is ok, but that’s about it. Luke… Luke is beyond vivid.
It is hard to convey how my psi-bility feels; I have never quite managed to develop the language to go with the feeling. Luke sticks out from the crowd around him – he is brighter, louder, and more defined, though none of these words quite fit – and there is no valid reason for this.
The weirdest thing is that I can sense him so clearly when he is barely there: he is so completely lost in the music that his sense of self has dissolved. From what I can tell he’s having what amounts to a religious experience, and all because a bunch of scruffy, hardly competent musicians – if you can call them that – are making a terrible din. That doesn’t seem to bother him in the least, and neither does the fact that he’s getting buffeted by a bunch of sweaty strangers. He’s completely blissed out, and he feels and looks so beautiful that the rest of the room is melting away from my consciousness.
When I realize that, I shield up, shake myself off, and reach out for Asher’s hand. I remember just in time that we can’t be publicly together. There are plenty of same-sex couples here, so we wouldn’t draw any attention, but I am supposed to be on-planet as Raj’s special friend. Asher doesn’t seem to care, though: he notices my panicked expression, slides his stool right next to mine, and slips a hand in my back pocket. I stick mine in his. He gives my ass a squeeze and leans right into me.
“Are you ok?”
“Yes. I wasn’t shielding. It all got a bit too much.”
“Do you need to go?”
“No. I’m ok. I’m just going to be more careful.”
I turn my psi-bility on, as low as it will go, and Luke springs right at me again. I can’t help reading him. That’s not really a problem: he knows that I don’t shield when we’re out in public. The problem is that I know I’m making excuses for myself. My scanning of the room may make it safer for us to be here, but the truth is that right now I’m enjoying second-handing Luke’s experience too much to stop.