"Was good," Portya murmured, stroking his hair. "So good, Diego."
Diego relaxed. He tensed as it struck him that he'd had unprotected sex for the first time in his life. "We should have talked."
"Humans not…do…?"
"Sex," Diego supplied, an involuntary smile curving his mouth. "Yes, we do."
"Sex," Portya repeated, as if savouring the word. "But…you dry?"
"That's normal, that's how we are. We just use lubricant from a bottle." He didn't want Portya to think his lack of natural lube meant he wasn't into it. "We also normally don't casually mix bodily fluids like that."
Portya slowed the stroking of his fingers through Diego's hair. "Reasons?"
Diego moved his head, but not too far; he didn't want Portya to stop. The gentle rhythm of his fingers was soothing. "Disease. Also, you know, to prevent pregnancy, but that wouldn't apply in our case," he added with a chuckle.
"No. We told in orientation Human diseases not evolved to affect Antho."
Diego nodded slowly. Now that he thought of it, he vaguely remembered that from the files of stuff Portya had given him, the day they'd met. "I wonder if they—your scientists and ours—imagined sex between our two species, though."
Although, the Human scientists probably had.
Portya's crinkling eyes suggested this was another area in which Antho and Humans did not differ much.
"Diego, I ask…this is experiment for you? Curious about Antho…sex?"
There was an edge to Portya's voice that stopped Diego from giving a flip answer. "Not an experiment. I don't want to have sex with any other Antho. Just you. And I'm glad you said something." Diego reluctantly shifted his weight, rising up on his elbow so he could look down into Portya's beautiful eyes. "I'm a one-man kind of guy. If you want to have sex with other people, tell me now and we'll kiss and say goodbye."
"I not know all the words you say. I not want physical connection with other people. Just you," he said, repeating Diego's words. "Just you. Is strange, yes?"
Diego quirked his mouth. "Good. Yes." Strange was definitely one word for it. Amazing also fit.
SIX
Dating Portya was surreal. Not just the sex, which was like nothing he'd ever experienced even discounting the vanilla-flavoured ass slick. Portya had no problem taking Diego's hand or slipping an arm around his waist when they were out. It didn't feel possessive, which he thought it might, just natural. At least natural for Portya. If anything about their relationship could be called natural.
Over the next three weeks, Earth time, they'd seen each other almost every night. At first, just in Diego's quarters for sex, then another dinner out, this time Diego's treat. The restaurant had a strong Earth feel, as if the owner had watched a lot of vintage Human science fiction—neon lights, or the Antho equivalent, outlining architectural shapes that just didn't exist in a space station. The food was Antho food in Earth recipes, or at least that's what the menu claimed. "I really need to cook for you," Diego promised again, drawing another long silent stare from Portya.
Then Portya had taken him to an Antho theatrical production, put on by a special troupe from Beresh. All manner of elaborate clearances had to be granted before the troupe could spend time aboard a space station with aliens, but their visit had gone without incident and Diego had learned that if they were similar in cultural pursuits, that didn't mean the art managed to cross cultural boundaries.
Wilma and Rudy had found a Human bar—like the neon-lighted restaurant, it was run by Antho but designed to appeal to Humans—called the Pink Pearl. It wasn't a strip club, which had his crewmates laughing all the more at the name. Diego wondered if there were strip clubs anywhere on Beresh.
He didn't know if Anthos had a sense of high and low culture, but the Pink Pearl had virtual dart boards and a pair of genuine, imported pool tables. Portya showed no hesitation at the door, nor at the games, only open curiosity.
Portya flagged the Antho waiting tables with an upraised hand and a twist of his wrist. Diego didn't think it was a greeting—he'd never seen Portya make that gesture before. "We come to drink?"
"And play games."
Portya's eyes crinkled. "You teach me Human games?"
"Yeah, it's one of the ways we have fun." Diego pondered whether to teach Portya darts or pool. Given the way their evenings tended to go, darts seemed safer.
A large pitcher of something that looked an awful lot like beer was set abruptly on their table, along with two glasses. He studied Portya again. It was clearly not the first time he'd ordered beer, or whatever the dark amber liquid happened to be. A grin crossed his face. The more he learned about Portya, the more he liked him.
He tasted the "beer" and found that although it didn't have hops—obviously—it was definitely grain-based and "beer" was a name he was comfortable giving it. Then he carefully fitted the VR headset around Portya's ear, stroking the sensitive spot behind it purely by accident. "This a simple game called darts…"
*~*~*
Diego was chafing on his latest supply run. The ship was docked at a ring tether on the Moon, which was basically a large cargo bay where goods from Earth were distributed to their colonies. They were waiting on some medical supplies, and a week had gone by already, which wouldn't have seemed long at all, except for missing Portya.
"You're picking up two new station personnel," Commander Zaya had told him. "In addition to some non-food cargo."
"Caravan is a passenger ship, Commander. A starliner. We're not designed for large cargoes."
"United Earth Government is well aware of the size of your ship, Captain Bahaghari."
And since she looked like she might have something to say about his personal life—or perhaps he was paranoid—he'd cut the transmission and rounded up his crew.
His nightly dates with Portya had included cultural outings to the Antho-Human Museum of Art, staying in at either Diego's or Portya's quarters with take-out, and playing VR games—where they were more or less equal. And sex every night. Sometimes Diego wasn't sure how Portya managed to go about his job in the morning without a limp.
It was hard to believe it had just been a month since they'd begun dating. Not that a month had any meaning on the station. Beresh had two moons, so their calendar hadn't evolved from using lunar phenomena, just solar. They recognized six different seasons, which Diego was figuring out from watching Antho movies with Syncrete subtitles.
The point was, they'd been spending a lot of time together, and Diego missed him more than he'd expected. Every delay made him twitchier until Wilma finally took him aside and asked him flat out what was wrong.
"Nothing."
"Bullshit. Come on, Bahaghari, I've known you too long." She grinned at him. "I can call you Dee-dee."
Diego winced. "Please don't."
"Trouble with your Antho lover?"
"What?" He glanced across the console at her. "How did you know—?"
She hooted with laughter. "You've got to be kidding. Station that size? Who doesn't know? It's not like you've been doing a damn thing to hide it, from what I hear."
Diego blushed. "Portya is—he likes public displays of affection. He doesn't care who knows."
"So why so glum? Someone giving you shit for it?" She balled up a fist and hit her open palm. "I'll beat him up."
Her mock anger pulled a smile out of him. "No trouble. I just…miss him."
She rolled her eyes and hummed a few bars of the wedding march. "Or do you just miss the sex? Is it good? Because you know, you aren't the only Human on the station getting plowed with alien dick. And I've heard it's not all that."
Diego stared across the control panel at her. "Serious? I—it's mind blowing. Although I do the—" he cut himself off. Wilma usually covered her ears when he talked about his sex life. When he'd had any to talk about.
"Huh, I just assumed he'd do the driving, and," she held up her hands, "that's the euphemism we're sticking with."
"They have naturally lubricating, u
m, rears."
Wilma choked and turned to him. "Hold on there. You fuck him in a hole that's naturally wet?" She started to laugh, a deep, full body laugh that shook her body and had her clutching her stomach.
"What?"
"Sounds like a vagina to me," she managed, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks.
"Please. You've seen the pants he wears. His dick is—" Portya's dick was suddenly vivid in Diego's mind, thick, heavy, never really soft in the way of a flaccid Human penis.
"Yeah, everyone's seen Administrator Portya's package. People talk. Those pants. I've heard some Antho wear a dick cup to look bigger."
Diego felt his mouth curve smugly.
"Guess that shit-eating grin means not your Antho, huh?" Wilma, grinning, leaned back in her seat. "So Antho men have self-lubing asses, and generally big dicks? Beresh must be a gay man's paradise, huh?"
Diego looked over at her, startled by her conclusion. "That's a bit of a leap, don't you think?"
"Diego—jeez. You think nature gave the men lubed asses by accident? They're likely all bisexual. I mean—has anyone ever given you two any shit about being two males?"
He thought about it. He didn't speak much Antho, just a few words Portya had taught him, but as far as he knew, Portya's public displays of affection drew Antho censure, not because Diego was male, but because he was Human. "Just the alien thing."
"Well, all I know is I heard they ain't so shit hot with their big dicks when it comes to vagina. Hell, maybe if you weren't so toppy, you wouldn't enjoy it as much." Wilma gave him a narrow look. "Unless he's afraid to touch your freakish dry ass, and I don't need you to confirm or deny."
Diego adjusted the flight controls and said, "We're about to drop into normal space."
Wilma obligingly announced it to their passengers—two additional staff for one of the science labs—and then focused on her side of the console. Going in and out of Folded space could be a bit disorienting, and cause pilot error if they misread the instrumentation. Wilma confirmed Diego's data read-out matched hers. If they could not confirm a match within thirty seconds, the ship would initiate an automatic firing sequence that would bring them to a dead halt, avoiding any collisions. Starways was rumoured to scold Fold pilots who had to resort to such a measure.
"And…we're clear." Wilma read off the coordinates on her screen.
"Confirmed," Diego said, repeating the same data. "Course corrections laid in, we'll be at Beresh in two hours."
Once more, Wilma informed the crew and passengers.
"I can go more than ten days without sex," he offered, after a long, but companionable silence.
Wilma laughed. "Then you must be in love!"
Diego turned to stare at her. No. Impossible. He couldn't fall in love with an alien, because that wasn't how love worked. It was probably some addictive thing about Portya's pheromones. Maybe he'd see the station doctor about it later, if he ever decided he didn't like liking Portya so much.
*~*~*
The new scientists wouldn't leave the ship until their equipment was off-loaded. Diego tried not to feel impatient—Portya wouldn't be waiting for him, he'd be at work. He even let Wilma, Rudy and the rest of the crew go after the food stores he'd picked up had been off-loaded and signed for. Except for the small box of stuff he had purchased for his own use. He hadn't forgotten his promise to cook Portya some authentic tastes of Manila.
"Why can't the Antho cargo handlers take it?" Diego asked impatiently.
"UEG's orders," replied Dr. Stewart Friesan. "Look, I think it's foolish too, but you know those government types."
He didn't and he didn't want to.
"Huh, here comes another one," muttered the doctor's female assistant.
Diego looked to see what she was talking about and grinned when he saw Portya striding confidently towards the hatch. He was truly beautiful, with his red skin and golden eyes, hair pulled back into the braid he always wore when working.
"Administrator," said one of the scientists waiting outside.
Portya paused and handed him a digislate. "Room assignments, ration cards, everything. Need paperwork filled out by end of business tomorrow." He held up a hand to forestall any conversation about it, and resumed walking, his unusual legs giving him a unique grace.
"Diego," he said, when they were in easy conversation distance.
He didn't stop moving, though and before Diego could frame a reply, he was engulfed in a full-body hug. It felt wonderful. "Portya."
Diego drew his head back only to have Portya run his rough, pink tongue over his lips before following up with a Human-style kiss.
"Are you still working?" Diego rubbed Portya's braid between his fingers.
"Quit early," Portya replied, reaching behind him to pull off the fastener holding his braid.
Diego felt his cheeks heat even as he started tugging apart the braid. Portya knew how much he loved playing with his hair.
"Um, Captain Bahaghari?"
Diego's body twitched in Portya's embrace. He had all but forgotten his passengers, still waiting for Human assistance to unload their equipment. He stroked Portya's cheek. "I still have a bit of work to do."
Immediately Portya released him. "Sorry," he said. "Did not mean to…damage your professionalism."
Diego grinned, running his hand down Portya's arm. "No, no. My job is a lot less formal than yours."
Portya caught his hand and drew it to his mouth, licking Diego's knuckles. "Still. Come to my quarters when you are finished. I will make reparations."
Diego had spent enough time with his alien lover to recognize that particular purring tone. "I—yes. Oh, take this."
He thrust the box of food he'd purchased into Portya's arms. "I don't know when I'll cook it, but when I do, it will be in your quarters. Mine's too small."
Portya gave him a look, one he couldn't interpret yet seemed full of significance. "Yes," was all he said. He walked away without once acknowledging the two scientists, or even looking back.
"I missed you too!" Diego called out, and Portya paused only long enough to almost look over his shoulder.
His passengers were staring. "You and he are—? Openly?"
"Yes," Diego said, a defensive note in his voice. "Portya," and just saying his name made him smile, "is not shy with public displays of affection. And it's not like our being together affects anyone else."
"What are they like? Do they have any unusual, you know, foibles?" Dr. Friesen asked.
"That's none of your business. Portya and I—one thing we have in common is we're neither diplomats nor scientists. Just two people. Our relationship is personal. You want insider information, make your own hookup." Diego smirked.
*~*~*
"What did you do while I was gone?" Diego asked lazily, drawing Portya's red and white hair through his fingers.
"Work too much. Also, learn enough more Syncrete to complain about work to you." Portya kissed Diego's forehead. He drew him into a full-body cuddle and Diego pulled the soft blanket up over them.
"I don't mind," Diego said around a yawn.
Portya's arms around him felt like home.
SEVEN
"Is something wrong, Portya? You look…?" Diego didn't know exactly what made him think something was wrong. Portya just shook his head, a gesture he had learned from Diego. Portya had learned more human body language than Diego had learned of Antho body language. Diego hadn't ever considered the array of head movements and shrugs he did without thinking to be 'body language' and it was difficult not to automatically interpret something Portya did as if it would mean the same thing.
Portya presented him with tickets to an Antho dance performance in the station's Xculture Theatre, a bland name easily understood by both species. "Almost prefer we go play pool."
"You just like it when I put my arms around you to teach you a shot."
"Yes," Portya agreed without hesitation. Diego loved his forthrightness. It was endearing, adorable. It made him feel stra
ngely warm inside.
"We can hold hands," Diego offered.
"Mmm, not as nice."
"I do like how you think, lover. But you're educating me on Antho culture."
"Antho have, what you say, bar games."
"Will you have to put your arms around me?"
"Do I need excuse?"
Diego grinned. "No."
"Humans have dances that tell stories too," Diego said. "Ballet. But I can't say I attended a lot of ballet performances, either." He didn't know if he had the right words to explain that ballet and shooting pool weren't generally thought of as equal in terms of Human culture.
Diego enjoyed the performance. To him it was at least as expressive as the ballet, though he'd only ever seen The Nutcracker. He wondered how much he was missing, by not knowing Antho body language. It must be like watching a musical without being able to understand the lyrics, he imagined. He had no way to judge what he was missing.
Portya abruptly rose to his feet, startling Diego. "Portya?" he whispered.
"Excuse me," he muttered.
Bathroom break, Diego guessed, as he shifted his knees to let Portya pass.
Portya seemed to be taking a very long time and Diego began to fidget. The empty seat beside him bothered him the way a missing tooth might. With Portya still gone by intermission, Diego threaded his way to the bathroom, a large non-gendered facility with stalls for privacy and a seating area surrounded by mirrors where one might regroom if necessary. Naturally both areas were filled, mostly with Antho in their beautiful idea of formal clothing. A few Humans in glitter gowns and black suits dotted the crowd.
Portya had worn his glorious hair in an updo—not an uncommon hairstyle for an evening out—and Diego scanned every pile of reddish hair looking for his. There, in the seating area, against a wall, Portya sat with his head bowed.
Diego struggled against the urge to just push aside everyone between them. "Portya?"
Portya looked up at him, his golden eyes clouded. "Sorry, sessra mi. Something I ate."
Diego grabbed Portya's hand. It was hotter than usual, damp. "I'm taking you to the doctor."
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