Diplomacy Squared

by Sydney Blackburn

  Nine more hours.

  He double-checked the lists in his office, ran a couple of Fold equations, triple-checking them with his desktop. Not quite the same, since Folding space required both a match and equipment, and the expenditure of power made the calculations wonky. Still it was a rare enough talent to do in one's head.

  Eight more hours.

  Diego returned to his quarters and watched the first video his parents had sent him after Portya's introduction video. Not the carefully stilted polite one made for Portya's benefit, but the one he'd never shown Portya. His mother's hysterics, his father's stoicism—almost stereotypical. His mother had been unhappy enough when he'd announced his same-sex affinity, bemoaning the grandbabies he would never give her. He'd pointed out that he could adopt, if he ever found a loving husband. That had mollified her for years. Portya wasn't her idea of the kind of husband Diego should have. He wondered if his mother would be happy or outraged that she might get a biological grandbaby after all.

  Not that he'd say anything without talking to Portya first. Portya might decide he didn't want Diego involved in any way.

  Seven more hours.

  When his comm station advised of an incoming call, he accepted it, eager for another distraction. "Portya!" His heart tripped and stumbled.

  "Come to my quarters, after work."

  "Y-yes."

  The video collapsed before Diego could say or ask anything else.

  *~*~*

  Diego paused outside Portya's quarters. He wore a pair of the loose, skirt-like trousers common to the dockworkers, which he'd figured out were mostly southern continent Antho. He realized there had to be a lot more nuance he was missing, but he hoped clothing wasn't a make or break thing with the Antho. He topped it off with a conservative version of the Antho jacket in a dark blue silky fabric, and covered his navel with a yellow sash tied around his waist. He felt a little like a pirate from an old costume drama.

  He pushed his hand to the pressure pad beside Portya's door. It had been set to open to him, whether Portya was there or not, but he'd never tested it since he'd run out on Portya. He had clothing and personal items inside. Maybe Portya only asked him over to give them back.

  The door slid open. Portya looked up, as if startled. He stared at Diego, his bright golden eyes darting from Diego's face to various points on his body. No box containing his belongings was visible.

  Portya's eyes crinkled and he held out his arms.

  Diego swallowed a lump in his throat and closed the distance between them, flinging his arms around Portya's neck. He choked on a sob as those warm, strong arms closed around him. Home.

  "You shake. You okay?"

  "Missed you," Diego managed. His eyes burned. "So afraid I'd lost you forever." Hot tears slid down his cheeks as he breathed in Portya's familiar scent, twisted the long, soft strands of red and black hair around his fingers. "Mahal na mahal kita," he added in a broken whisper.

  "Lissande, sessera mi," Portya murmured back, stroking Diego's back.

  Diego raised his head to meet Portya's golden gaze. He saw it only a moment before Portya pressed his thin, soft lips to his. His head fogged and his cock stiffened in response to the heady release of Portya's pheromones.

  Someone growled, Diego thought it might be himself as he bit down on Portya's lower lip, then abandoned his lips altogether for the base of his neck. His hands were tugging at Portya's jacket, impatient.

  Portya pushed Diego just away to shrug his arms free, and held Diego off long enough to pull Diego's jacket off.

  Diego's cock seemed to pulse with need, throbbing to be inside Portya's tight wet hole, and the vanilla scent that seemed to fill the room drove him wild. It seemed wrong that their reunion should be so lacking in tenderness, but Diego felt as driven as he always did and Portya's enthusiastic response destroyed all hope of rational thought.

  When he had come, and Portya was sticky and panting, Diego let Portya pull him into a hot, loose-limbed embrace, murmuring long, sibilant words. Diego turned into Portya's chest, drawing his fingers across Portya warm body, tracing musculature on his arms, his back. They exchanged kisses and licks and nibbles, and tickled each other's erogenous zones until Diego found Portya's thick cock, already firming up under his tender affections.

  "You no need—"

  "Shhh," Diego said, meeting Portya's heavily lidded gaze. "You know I love this." He kissed and caressed, fondled and sucked his lover into another orgasm, this one slow and powerful.

  Portya undone, when he was so often in control, was a magnificent sight. "I love the warmth of your skin." He kissed Portya's belly tenderly. "Is that where our zygote is? I love our zygote. I love the strength of your thighs," kissing Portya's short thighs, "and your ass is magnificent."

  "Diego." Portya drew his name out in a long, sexy rasp.

  "You're so beautiful, Portya," Diego whispered, enchanted by the loose limbs, flowing hair, and sleepy eyes of his lover. "I'm so happy to marry you."

  "Not say yes, yet," Portya said, his voice a purr that almost distracted Diego from his words.

  He angled his head back, but could only see the plane of Portya's cheek. "No?"

  "Have questions." Portya stroked Diego's shoulder affectionately.

  "Anything," Diego replied with a contented sigh. Surely even if Portya didn't want to marry, he still wanted their relationship to continue.

  "If there is Beresh colony—like your…Ropa—where we make home and you visit family—all same conditions, only Antho—you would go?"

  "Yes," Diego replied instantly. "It would probably be better than Europa, because there'd be doctors there for you and the little one." He slipped his hand down Portya's chest to rest on his belly.

  Portya grunted, somehow making it sound sexy. "And you?"

  "I'm a Fold pilot, surely the Antho could use a Fold pilot?"

  "You need to learn tesselkin."

  That was the Antho technical language; it didn't rely on body language at all. "I think I'm smart enough." He'd already picked up a few words, none of which helped him differentiate the elided sounds of the language Portya spoke.

  The tension that had begun to grow in Portya vanished and he gave another grunt, which sounded much like contentment to Diego.

  "So now you'll marry me?"

  "You must do Antho ceremony too."

  "Of course," Diego said happily, rubbing his cheek affectionately against Portya's neck. A thought occurred to him. "Um, it doesn't involve having sex in front of a crowd of people or anything, does it? I'd still do it, for you," he added hastily, "but I'd like to know in advance."

  A tremor went through Portya's body—he was laughing. Diego put his elbow under him to see Portya's crinkled eyes. "No sex with audience," he replied in his sexy rasp. "You amusing."

  Diego smiled hopefully at him. "So you'll marry me?"

  "Yes," Portya replied.

  EIGHTEEN

  Diego awoke surrounded by Portya, or so it felt. Portya spooned around his back, one arm draped possessively over Diego's torso, Portya's strong thighs pressing up behind Diego's longer, smaller ones. Portya's silky red and black hair tickling his face; Portya's thick cock nestled in the crack of Diego's ass.

  If there were a utopian afterlife, it could not be any better than this. He didn't even need to piss, not at this moment. He softly sighed contentment. If only this moment could last forever.

  Portya's arm around him moved. Diego could feel the muscles tensing, warm skin sliding smoothly over his. "You awake."

  "Yes."

  "Your body feel different when you awake. Sleep you very soft, loose. Pretty. Awake, different."

  "Not pretty?"

  Portya growled low in his throat, which happened to be very close to Diego's ear. The sound sent shivers down his spine, compounded when Portya licked his ear, then kissed his neck.

  "I think of this often. Stand behind you, touch you like this," Portya said, his hand flat against Diego's stomach, sliding down to linger t
easingly on the hair already grown back from his adventure in Northern continent fashions. "When you in my office, imagine bending you over my desk. When at Pink Pearl, imagine me behind you."

  Diego was rock hard, just from Portya's words, his imagination creating the scenarios vividly in his head. He whimpered, shifting his hips to rub Portya's cock, which was only beginning to firm and lengthen between the cheeks of his ass. "Yes, Portya, please."

  For the first time, Portya fucked Diego without restraint, and Diego thought he might die of it, might slip right into the oblivion of his orgasm and never return.

  *~*~*

  After showering in the round cubicle, Diego and Portya lay back on the bed again. Diego's hand kept straying to Portya's stomach, where he assumed their impossible child was growing. He still felt weird about the whole idea of his lover bearing his child, but he realized it would be only the beginning of countless weird things he'd encounter, living on a Beresh colony with Portya.

  "You said you sibling have baby? You familiar?" Portya's long, beringed fingers sifted through Diego's hair, which was growing longer.

  "Yeah. She even made me go to the delivery room. Well, not for the actual birth part, because who wants to see their sister's…" He stopped as he realized he wasn't even sure how the Antho regarded nudity. Portya never seemed shy, so maybe clothing for them was purely a decorative social convention. He had so much to learn. "But afterwards. It, the baby, I mean, was a weird, almost alien-looking creature, all red and wrinkled and screaming." His brows drew together at the memory of his niece's misshapen head.

  "Alien creature? Like Antho?"

  Diego snickered. "No, no." He kissed Portya's smooth skin. "Just so very different from an adult that it seemed…haven't you seen any Antho babies, newly born?"

  "Images only." Portya's fingers wandered to Diego's ears, another physical feature that differed between them. "You correct, I think. Offspring, babies, look strange. Creature," he repeated, drawing out the syllables as if tasting the word. "Creature. Word is funny."

  Diego shifted his weight, letting his hand slide to the heavy warmth of Portya's cock, which twitched a little under his hand. Touching Portya directly was the only thing that broke his control. "I think our baby will probably be an even stranger creature, Portya." He nuzzled Portya's hip.

  "Our creature. But Human babies, Antho babies, grow. Become…not creature. Our baby might always be creature."

  "No," Diego said, teasing Portya with the tip of his fingernails. "Whatever he might be, creatureness only lasts for a week or so."

  Portya let himself be seduced, and an hour later they were at Susserdan eating Antho food and comparing Human and Antho baby naming conventions.

  *~*~*

  The only sign of Portya's anxiety was the way he squeezed Diego's hand as they walked into Ambassador Nihla's office. Diego returned the squeeze. He wouldn't understand most of what was said in this meeting, but he knew the gist would be Portya requesting permission to bring his friends and family to Mikesi for the ceremony. Ceremonies, he corrected himself. Portya hadn't revealed just what the ceremony consisted of, but his amusement had been reassuring.

  "Please you wait," the Ambassador's assistant told them, and showed them into a small vestibule outside the ambassador's office.

  The tiny room held only a bench seat and a small table with a vase of blue foliage and black flowers. "They fake," Portya said, when he realized Diego was looking at them. "Not grow in this light."

  "I keep forgetting that Beresh's sun is different; that Anthos have altered the lighting on the station for Humans."

  "Not everywhere," Portya pointed out.

  "True, but I tend to think of it as atmospheric or mood lighting, rather than Antho normal."

  Portya sat down and gestured for Diego to join him.

  With a wince, Diego shook his head, which got Portya to his feet again. "I hurt you."

  "It's a good kind of hurt," Diego assured him with a grin.

  "I not do often, afraid I hurt you." Portya seemed worried, stroking Diego's hair and shoulders as if to soothe him.

  "I enjoyed it, Portya. Every twinge and ache makes me remember how much I enjoyed it. You can do it again."

  "Tonight?" Portya's skepticism was clear in the angle of his head.

  Diego grinned. "Maybe not tonight. But definitely more often than once a month."

  Portya stared at him, his hands resting on Diego's shoulders. "You weird little Human."

  Diego laughed and wrapped his arms around Portya's waist, burying his face in Portya's shoulder. "Yeah, but I'm your weird little Human."

  A rumbled throat clearing behind him had Diego pulling away from Portya's embrace. His face heated as he took in Ambassador Nihla watching them. Like most Antho, he found the ambassador quite inscrutable. "Weird?"

  Diego's blush deepened, if possible. How much of that conversation had the ambassador heard?

  "Diego think I beautiful," Portya answered without hesitation, taking Diego's hand again.

  Ambassador Nihla's eyes crinkled slightly and he gestured them into his office. It was about twice as big as the vestibule, with the red light giving it a warm, dim glow—Beresh lighting. "Eyes of lissande," he suggested.

  Diego nodded absently in agreement, thinking if he and Portya went to live in an Antho colony, he would have to get used to this style of lighting. Maybe some kind of corrective lenses he could wear…Nihla's words sank in. "Well, not really. I thought Portya was beautiful pretty much the first time I met him,"

  "As I say—weird," Portya replied, addressing the ambassador.

  Nihla only crinkled his eyes.

  The rest of the conversation was carried on in Antho, and Diego had a tough time following it. It seemed to grow heated as Portya released his hand to lean forward on Nihla's desk, resting both hands on the top of it to support his weight.

  Nihla turned to stare at Diego a few times, but Diego's confidence in whatever Portya might be saying didn't waver. Their voices dropped from near hissing to a soothing susurration on the ear and Porta relaxed, lacing his fingers through Diego's with practiced ease.

  Finally, Nihla nodded and looked at Diego. His eyes didn't have a fraction of the impact Portya's golden gaze did. "Captain Bahaghari, are you certain this is what you want? You know how difficult it will be."

  "I know." The alternative would be far more difficult.

  Portya squeezed his hand, while his other hand fluttered across his stomach.

  Nihla head dipped as he caught the motion, and he exploded into an unmistakably angry speech before saying, "You know Portya's pregnant?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Who is the seed parent?"

  "This why I not want to tell people," Portya murmured.

  But Diego was bristling with anger at the implication. "Not that it's any of your business but I am!"

  "Impossible!"

  "I know it is, yet it's true and I'll thank you to stop—"

  Portya rested his free hand on Diego's arm, stopping his words. "Everyone will assume same, Diego. If pregnancy continues, it will be visible soon. Everyone knows you alien."

  Diego stared at Portya, wondering how the obviousness of it had escaped him. "What," he swallowed and tried again. "What would have happened if I hadn't realized…? Or if you couldn't forgive me? Is there a stigma in Antho society about having a child alone?"

  Portya didn't answer, but he didn't let go of Diego, either.

  "Antho culture, at least on eastern seaboard of the northern continent, is centered around self-control. To act without control is to act as a child. To become pregnant without forming the bonds is very much a lack of control."

  Diego frowned, acknowledging the ambassador's words, and wondering if there was disapproval in them. He looked at Portya, puzzled. "But you have sex without these bonds?"

  Portya gave him an eye crinkle. "Much. Ways to contracept."

  "That we didn't use."

  "You not Antho. Shouldn't have nee
ded," Portya reminded him.

  "Is that why Filas wants you to terminate?"

  Portya pulled Diego close to him, putting Diego's hands on his shoulders before letting go to clasp Diego at the waist. "Filas have much reasons."

  There was silence in the room, Diego was searching Portya's face, the tilt of his head, the way he held his striking black lips. Why did Portya want this baby? He wanted to ask, but wasn't sure he could in such a way that didn't make it sound like he didn't want it. If he were honest, the idea of a baby that was his and Portya's still didn't seem real. But Portya wanted to carry it and since Filas had not said doing so would harm Portya, Diego had seen no reason to suggest otherwise.

  This new information made Portya's desire to carry the pregnancy—even in the face of Diego's desertion—all the more strange.

  Portya seemed to be waiting, perhaps for judgement?

  Diego sighed. "I promise not to beat up anyone for implying you were out of control or unfaithful to me, or whatever other implications should arise. I wish you'd explained all this to me."

  "Not easy. Syncrete is difficult language, not have words. You want I terminate?"

  "No, of course not." Diego grinned. "But I see why you didn't want to say anything. I guess we better have that Antho ceremony soon, then."

  "You not Antho," Portya said, like Diego could have forgotten. Portya brought a hand to Diego's face, and stroked his cheek with his soft fingers. "People still accuse."

  "Will it cause problems on that colony you have in mind?"

  "Portya's duty to Mikesi, his contract, continues well past expected date of infant delivery," Nihla said, startling them both. "If Dr. Filas is aware of all this," he gestured toward them, as if still unsure that Diego could be the father, "then best you both are here, anyway. After, if Bahaghari is truly the seed parent, it should be obvious enough to not cause unusual problems."

  Diego returned his attention to Portya, who was giving him a crinkled golden gaze. Little seemed to shake his confidence, though he was certain Portya knew better than he that they would face accusation enough on the station, until the child was born. Diego smiled back.