Their Memoriam

by Jazz Michaels

  To observe him replete and tranquil was a gift I’d treasure nearly as much as the way his body fit mine. Had I really only decided to join them for breakfast a few hours before? Now, I was curled around him in his bed, tucked against him—my lover.

  My lover.

  “You’re about to go down the rabbit hole of dissecting what we just shared, aren’t you, love?” The languid note in his voice didn’t mute his teasing.

  “No,” I promised him, even if I’d begun to spiral a different way. “I’m at the bottom of the rabbit hole already, with my very own magnificent soldier, and I’m agog at how—normal it feels to be with you like this.”

  “Good,” he said, and ran his hand over my thigh then back to my hip. “You and I…we fit.”

  We did.

  “I wish I could remember how we met.” The loss of so many years had bothered me before, but not this deeply. So, I couldn’t remember the work I’d done. I could replicate it now, repeat the steps and the mistakes. I was still me, after all. But meeting Dirk for that very first time? And not when I woke him from the lifepod, and he’d nearly strangled me as the delusion of frozen sleep held him in that moment nor when he’d roused from the tranquilizer—those were the only memories I had.

  “It wasn’t that impressive,” he said, his eyes closed as he continued to hold me. He played his fingers against my hip as though he couldn’t not touch me. My hand was splayed against his chest, my fingers tracing one of his tribal looking tattoos. His heated flesh held so many wonders—smooth in places, more rigid in others.

  “Easy for you to say. You remember it!” Because I could, I leaned in and licked one of his nipples. It puckered, and I sucked slow and deliberate.

  He laughed. “Brat.”

  No one had ever called me that before. I liked it. “Maybe,” I agreed. I blew against the nipple I’d teased and it tensed tighter. His cock quivered against my thigh, stiffening slightly. Oh, maybe I would get to experience another of the ways he wanted to take me.

  My body hummed at the thought.

  Sliding his hand up my body, he paused at my hair and thread it through his fingers. It had come loose at some point and spilled around me. Fisting it, he tugged me gently against him once more, and I pressed my ear to his chest. I loved touching him.

  “I was in uniform,” he said, his voice low. “I arrived with a contingent of four. All the men in my unit were special operations, as I was. We’d been tasked with babysitting, and none of us were pleased.”

  “Babysitting?” Incensed, I started to sit up, but he held me tight and his laughter removed the sting of the description. He even began to massage my scalp, and I melted some.

  “Yes, babysitting. We were used to being sent into troubled zones, extractions, eliminations, and combat. Not…a beautiful cottage setting on the coast of New Zealand.”

  Oh, I’d been right about where I’d done the work. Somewhat mollified, I cuddled closer and listened.

  “The minister with us was no one we knew personally, only that we’d been ordered to report to him. We arrived near dawn, and you stood on a grassy spot near the rocks. You were deep into your yoga. You were elegant in your posture, and perfect in your form. The sun rose before us, and backlit you so you were a slice of feminine grace in shadow.”

  Amusement skated under his words—amusement and something deeper.

  “You didn’t acknowledge us, and we didn’t interrupt. When you finished, you turned and found all of us waiting. You frowned. The minister introduced himself, then said we were there specifically for your protection.”

  Holding my breath, I winced in anticipation.

  “You looked us all over and said, ‘Hmm…don’t get in my way,’ then you strode toward the interior. When you reached the door, you glanced at us again as though you were assessing each one of us. Finally, you gazed at me and gestured with a gentle jerk of your head, and said, ‘Well, come on, then. You need the codes, and I have work to do.’”

  Blowing out the breath, I shook my head against him. “What a bitch.”

  “Not at all, love. Efficient, direct, and absolutely without artifice. Nothing about you was fake. You didn’t pretend niceties. We were there to be your protection, not your nuisances.” His hand flexed on my hip. “Conversely, when I made a security decision, you obeyed without hesitation, even when it inconvenienced you.”

  “You are the expert.” I agreed with my shadow self—the woman I’d been in those years I no longer remembered. “I would do the same now.” It wasn’t a lie. I recognized Dirk’s expertise, just as I recognized the skill in the others. They each brought something to our adventure. Thanks to Dirk, they’d begun to form a cohesive unit. He was a natural leader, but something was missing. Drawing a circle against his abdominal, I frowned. “Did something happen in those years? Did you have to employ security measures?”

  “Do you mean did someone try to harm you in some way?” That sounded vastly more unpleasant than my phrasing.

  “Yes.” Did I need to know? Maybe. Did I want to know? Definitely.

  “Nothing ever got close to you.”

  Shifting, I rose to study him. “That’s not a no.”

  “I promised to protect you, and I did.” He lifted me until I straddled him and slid his hands over my hips to glide along my sides.

  Undeterred by his sensual distraction, even if my body began to rev to the invitation, I raised my eyebrows. “But the threat was there?”

  Palming my breasts, Dirk sighed. “Love, I promised you then that nothing would touch you, and I didn’t allow it, nor did I allow distractions to interrupt your work. We took care of any potential threats, and we took care of you. Not once in all those years did anyone get close enough to hurt you.”

  That wasn’t the whole story though, was it? What was he leaving out?

  “Valda, trust me.” The gentleness in his voice coupled with the sweet massage of my breasts beckoned me. He’d answered every other question, and obeyed my orders—if I ordered him to tell me more, would I then in turn be violating the trust we’d formed?

  “Relationships are complicated.” The grumble slipped out. Yet it was true, and according to Dirk, he’d chosen all the men in the biosphere to be here for me. So, if I had trouble with one relationship? What would I do with three more?

  His hands had left my breasts, and suddenly, I was pinned beneath him as his fingers glided over my clit. A whisper of pleasure curled through my thoughts.

  “You’re not going to distract me from worrying forever,” I hissed as he found a particularly sensitive spot.

  “Maybe,” he grinned and then began his descent toward my sex, and I had no doubts about his destination or intentions. “But it will be damn fun to try.”

  He wasn’t wrong. No matter my determination, it held no sway against his relentless pursuit of my pleasure. Within minutes, the pure carnality of his kiss and the thrust of his fingers lifted me to orgasm, shattering my concerns.

  Sex wasn’t love—but in Dirk’s arms, I think I finally understood function without emotion didn’t count. He gave and gave, and the magnificent experience edged toward perfection.

  When he rolled me over and slid into me from behind, I let it go. Dirk would tell me when I needed to know…I trusted him.

  Trust. The most sublime emotion… Then thoughts were irrelevant. There was only sensation, and Dirk’s body powering into mine. I never wanted it to end.

  Ever.

  Day 20

  Two things changed after I decided to join the guys for breakfast. The first change—well, it proved delicious. Dirk and I were firmly entrenched as lovers. I’d spent every night in his bed except one… Last night, he’d been focused on the condensation system with Hatch. The other man had a real gift for working with machines, and Dirk had raw strength. Waking for the first time in my suite, alone, I hurried through my ablutions.

  The second thing that had changed was a sense of urgency demanding I get to know the others. Or maybe I just wasn�
��t dreading their company anymore. Either way, I didn’t waste time heading for breakfast. When I arrived in the community kitchen, music pulsed over the speakers. Only Oz was present and hard at work on his bike. A sheen of sweat covered his face, and the far cooler temperature in here made more sense.

  A pang of disappointment rebounded within me at the absence of the other three, but I couldn’t help but answer Oz’s welcoming smile.

  “Computer, reduce volume by two-thirds.” The pounding beat diminished instantly.

  “You don’t have to,” I told him, but he waved off my objection.

  “I’d rather talk to you.” Which was a lovely sentiment.

  Two steps deeper into the room, and the lack of cooking scents—worse, the lack of coffee—hit me. “Where is everyone else?” I was never there before all four of them were together, not even while sleeping in Dirk’s bed. He often woke before me and did calisthenics prior to showering. By the time I’d roused to begin my morning yoga routine, he was on his way to the community room to get the guys moving.

  “There’s a sweater on the chair,” Oz said, pointing to a deep green, heavy cardigan. “The water issue went long yesterday. Dirk cut his arm, and I had to stich it up last night.”

  I’d just put my fingers on the soft wool when his answer penetrated. “Is he all right?” Should I have gone to check on him first?

  “He’ll be fine. He complained more about me making him wait for treatment then any actual pain. Slash on the inside of his forearm. A little lidocaine to numb the area and four stitches later, he was as good as new. Given his preference, he’d have just stapled it closed and gone back to work.”

  I couldn’t help the grimace as I slid the sweater on. The thickness was like being wrapped into a hug, and it shielded me from the chill. “If it was that much trouble, why didn’t they wake me?”

  “To do what?” The earnestness in the question demanded an answer.

  “I don’t know, help?” Without waiting for his response, I sighed. “Not that I know anything about plumbing or water reclamation. Nor do I really think you need assistance in the medical area.” Except, Dirk had been hurt and the need to check on him personally dug its hooks into me. “But it doesn’t seem all that fair that you all had to handle the bulk of it.”

  “We all do what we’re good at. You could have done the stitches, but I was up, so there was no need to bother you. Andreas could have done it as well, but he has garden duty today. There’s more vegetables to harvest, and he’s making a list of what we should investigate planting.” More work where I should probably be taking a more active role.

  “Then I suppose I’ll make the coffee and see about breakfast. Fair warning, I’m a decent cook, but I tend to make only a few specific things well.”

  “Won’t say no to coffee, and I’ll wash up when you’re done. Can you make sausages?”

  “Probably,” I chuckled, not missing the eagerness in his tone. I headed for the cabinets. I knew roughly where the items were stored. I’d paid attention to the system the guys had in here, even if I hadn’t actually used the kitchen other than to eat and visit. I still wanted to go see Dirk and Hatch. If they’d been up most of the night repairing a problem—my gut twisted—it was likely a major concern. Decided, I got to work. They would need to eat as well.

  Within a few minutes, I had a pot of coffee brewing and sausages sizzling on a low heat pan. I didn’t want to waste any of the coffee, but if Andreas didn’t come up before we were done, then I’d take a thermos of the java to him. In my hurry to get down here, I hadn’t had any coffee yet, and if I planned to not burn all the food then it would be a two-cup morning.

  While the sausages grilled over low heat, I investigated the cold fridge. There were eggs—I’d have to ask where they were finding these. We had no animals. I hesitated a moment, then shook my head. No, they wouldn’t hide farm animals from me. Those would definitely come up in conversation.

  Hatch mentioned they all liked their eggs different ways, except Andreas. He didn’t eat them. Cooking omelets wasn’t entirely out of the question, but if Andreas didn’t like eggs…I needed to be prepared with an alternative. Scanning the contents in the fridge, I spotted flour tortillas along with salsa. If I took the other omelet contents and fried them up, I could do breakfast burritos sans eggs for him.

  Keeping an eye on the sausage, I diced up the vegetables—of which we had a plethora—and prepared bowls with each of my ingredients. I’d just finished with the tomatoes and mushrooms when the scent of coffee wound around me. The potatoes surprised me, but there were a dozen in the bin next to the fridge, so I’d peeled them and cut them into fine slices. Eyeing the number of containers I’d lined up with the sliced vegetables, I wondered if perhaps I’d been a bit ambitious about my breakfast choices.

  “Are you ready for coffee?” I asked him. Oz had finished his ride and stood rubbing a towel over his head and face. His skin gleamed in the warm light from the overheads.

  “Always.” Wrapping the towel around his neck, he crossed to the bar.

  I poured two mugs, then fixed mine as I liked it after I passed him his. The first sip braced me against the day, and the second had me leaning against the counter with a sigh. I’d finish the cooking in a minute.

  “Would you like me to leave you two alone?” Oz’s question pulled me out of the moment. After a quick sweep of the still empty community room, I focused on him. The glint in his eyes promised me it had been a tease.

  “Not at all, I don’t mind if you watch us.” I cradled my mug closer, and to my delight, he laughed. Pleased, I considered him a moment, then said, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Never. Questions drive us to a deeper understanding.” The physician leaned forward, his elbows rested on the bar. His nostrils flared with every breath he took, and it took me a moment to recognize he was still getting his breathing under control from the biking.

  “Sometimes understanding isn’t what we’re seeking so much as truth.” Though the terms were often paired, they could also be exclusive.

  “That’s because truth is based on our point of view.” He raised his mug, and the amusement flickering in his eyes beckoned me to join in the fun.

  Very well, if he wanted to throw down the gauntlet. “For me, truth can be replicated and verified.”

  “That’s method…haven’t you ever accepted there is a fundamental truth that you don’t need to test to replicate?”

  Almost disappointed, I shook my head. “That’s not truth, that’s faith. Don’t get me wrong, faith is valid to the individual…”

  “…which makes it a point of view and thus a truth.”

  “Point, except it borders on logical fallacy.” Not that I wanted to agree, and I’d examine that objection after I had a second cup of coffee. After refilling my mug, I glanced at him, but he shook his head. A quick shake of the pan, had the sausage rolling. Hmm, the scent of the meat made my mouth water, but I had to keep my mind on the argument.

  His throaty chuckle had me twisting. “You wanted to ask me a question?”

  Was he laughing at my need for coffee or my words? It could be both. The sausage would be ready shortly, so it was time to start putting together the omelets. I cracked one egg after another into a large bowl. “I did, however, I’m reconsidering it now.” Teasing took a measure of social manners and wit.

  “Aww,” he said with a wink. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

  Since he opened the door, I pushed up the sleeves on the sweater as I located the whisk for the eggs. “What if I don’t want you to be good?”

  “Now, you really need to ask me that first question.” He lowered the mug and pinned me with an unfathomable look in his eyes.

  “Maybe.” Coy? Not usually my thing, and it rested uneasily on my shoulders. Whisking the eggs, I sighed. “It’s actually an uncomfortable question to verbalize, so shall we establish some ground rules?” I appreciated how explicitly Dirk laid out his rules. Without understanding
, communication could lead to false assumptions. Also a truth, though I suspected Oz might argue the point.

  “All right. You can talk to me about anything, and I won’t be offended, nor will I share anything you say to me with anyone else. I don’t violate confidences, medical or otherwise.”

  Eggs ready to go, I set another pan to heat and began grilling together the veggies for Andreas’ breakfast burrito. Then another pan for Oz’s omelet. “Brief pause,” I said, with a wave toward the veggies I’d cut. “Anything here you don’t like?”

  “No, I like everything.” The way his lips shaped the last word and the rest of him focused on me cascaded skin tingling awareness along my spine.

  “Good to know.” I took a bit of each and added them with some oil, and a pinch of salt. The more I grilled, the hungrier I got. I had to fix their food first. “Resuming our earlier discussion, you wouldn’t even discuss it with the guys? I thought you’d all been sharing quite a bit.” About me, in particular, but I kept that part to myself.

  “We discuss you,” he said, not needing my prompt. “Because you intrigue all of us, and we want to make sure you are all right. We also discussed our attraction—let me amend that. I discussed my attraction. Four men, one woman, in close quarters? It could lead to misunderstanding swiftly. The fact that you and Dirk are spending so much time together, that could cause jealousy. I would rather err on the side of caution.”

  My stomach clenched. Was Dirk wrong in his assumption about the men he’d selected for me—that will never not be a strange concept, no matter how provocative. “Does it bother you that he and I are intimate?” Thankfully, the heat rising from the stove competed with the embarrassment warming my cheeks. Frank sexual discussions didn’t bother me. Emotionally charged ones, though?