Alien Revelation

by Nicole Krizek

  “Good?” Brogan asked. His voice had deepened slightly with his own arousal.

  “Yes.”

  They both knew that there was something more in the question. Before Brogan was asking “Are you alright?” but now the question was, “Does this feel good?”

  Brogan shifted even closer, and this time his palm ran up Conall’s chest onto his neck. Brogan could feel his pulse hammering under the pads of his fingers. He touched the dusting of red hair on Conall’s jaw, following it to his chin. The hairs were prickly, and Brogan groaned slightly at the thought of the texture moving over delicate areas of his body. What would they feel like on his own nipples? Running down the valley of muscle on his stomach? Or on his sack? His eyes closed as his imagination gifted him with one scenario after another.

  “What is it?” Conall asked.

  Brogan’s eyes flew open, and met Conall’s once again. “I was getting ahead of myself,” Brogan replied honestly. “Sorry.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  Brogan gave a half chuckle. “Nothing I’m ready to share quite yet.”

  That was the truth. He didn’t want to scare Conall away with his errant thoughts.

  Conall let the comment go as Brogan moved his hand into his hair. Brogan luxuriated in the feel of the scarlet strands. The strands were soft—much like Arathians’—and Conall’s were long enough to get a good hold on.

  Suddenly images of him sinking both hands into this hair while Conall’s mouth rode his cock invaded his mind, and Brogan’s groin pulsed with arousal. Pre-cum leaked from the tip inside his pants, and he barely restrained himself from reaching down and giving himself a couple of strokes through the material.

  “Is something wrong?” Conall asked.

  Brogan shook his head and nearly laughed at himself. He, the male who was always completely in control, was having wayward thoughts while he was supposed to be helping this male with his own feelings.

  Way to go, Brogan, he chided himself.

  “Nothing’s wrong, I promise. It’s just that I can’t seem to focus right now.”

  “What do you keep thinking about?”

  “You.”

  That made Conall’s eyes go wide. “Me?”

  Brogan nodded. “My mind is getting way ahead of us.”

  Conall cleared his throat. “What were you thinking about me?”

  He considered not answering, but decided to go with a partial truth instead. “I was thinking about you touching me.”

  Conall thought about that for a moment before he raised a slightly shaking hand. “Can I touch you?”

  Brogan nodded mutely, and kept his hand on Conall’s shoulder. He needed the contact to ground him.

  Conall’s eyes skirted over Brogan’s torso, as if he were considering where to place his palm. He settled for his bare forearm. The touch was light, just a skimming of his fingers, but it made a shiver run down Brogan’s spine. It’d been a long time since he’d been touched in a non-platonic way. Conall’s eyes followed his fingers up and down Brogan’s exposed forearm.

  “No hair?” Conall asked quietly. “Is that a Guard thing?”

  Brogan was about to ask what he meant, but he looked at Conall’s arm and could see red hair on the man’s wrist where his shirt had ridden up. The reasoning behind his question dawned on him.

  “No, it’s an Arathian thing. None of us have hair on our arms.”

  Conall’s surprised eyes met his. “Really? None of you?”

  “No. We don’t have any hair below what’s on our heads.”

  Conall nodded, but didn’t ask further. Instead, he went back to concentrating on his own hand’s exploration. It traveled up Brogan’s bicep onto his shirt, then onto his shoulder. As his hand moved onto Brogan’s chest, he hoped that it was too dark in the interior of the transport for Conall to see the bulge in his pants. He didn’t want to make the male uneasy, but there was no fighting his body’s natural reaction.

  He wanted Conall. Wanted him touching him, wanted him naked and splayed for his perusal. He wanted to bury his face in Conall’s neck and inhale his scent. He wanted to claim his lips while his cock claimed his virgin ass.

  The thought had him involuntarily groaning.

  Conall’s hand came to an abrupt halt. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

  Brogan shook his head abruptly. “No, not at all. Same problem as before: I can’t keep control of my thoughts.”

  “I thought you’d be the poster boy of control,” Conall teased.

  Brogan wasn’t sure of the lingo Conall was using, but could get the gist of what he was implying. He laughed at himself. “Yeah, well, not tonight. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Conall insisted. “I think…”

  He paused for so long that Brogan didn’t think he’d continue, but he did.

  “Everything you do is always so controlled; I think I’d like to see you let go.”

  Brogan gasped slightly, but told himself to slow down. He may be misunderstanding what Conall was saying.

  “You’d like me to be more spontaneous? To act on my thoughts?” Brogan clarified.

  A single nod. “Aye.”

  Brogan stared at Conall in shock, and was still in denial that he was hearing the other male correctly. Did Conall want him to take charge and move along their exploration? Because that’s what it sounded like.

  “Do you think you can do that?” Conall asked.

  Brogan heard the hidden challenge and nodded. “Yeah, I think I can handle it.”

  He wasted no time and threaded his hand behind Conall’s neck, his eyes locked onto his lips. He’d been dying to taste the male since they’d met, and their evening together had only fueled that need. Now, he was being given permission.

  Still, he looked into Conall’s eyes as he brought their faces closer, using his steady grip on Conall’s neck as a guide. He expected to see uncertainty in Conall’s gaze, but instead the other male was looking at his mouth. His tongue emerged to moisten his lips, and Brogan’s parted.

  When they were only a scant inch apart, Conall’s eyes closed and Brogan exhaled in relief. He closed the remaining distance to brush their lips together softly, just one achingly slow caress, before a series of beeps sounded throughout the transport.

  Both males pulled back, and Brogan was positive that he heard Conall curse under his breath. He agreed whole-heartedly. Fucking hell.

  Brogan pushed a command to answer the comm, and Oliver’s face took over a portion of the console.

  “Hey, Da’,” the boy greeted, then his eyes went to Brogan. “Oh, hey, Brogan. I didn’t know you two were together.”

  Conall cleared his throat uneasily, and Brogan fought a smile. Together had been on the agenda.

  “Is everything alright? Do you need something?” Conall asked tensely.

  “Nah, I just wanted to check in with you before I head to bed.”

  Brogan watched a smile break over Conall’s face.

  “I’m glad you did. I’ll be home soon, but why don’t you go on ahead to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early for school.”

  Oliver rotated his chair back and forth slightly, as if he couldn’t stand to be completely still for the length of a conversation. If he was anything like Brogan had been at that age, he probably couldn’t.

  “You know, my classes can be recorded. I could watch them later in the day instead of attending them in real time.”

  Brogan chuckled once, but covered it with a cough as Conall’s eyes swung briefly over to him.

  “Nice try,” Conall told his son. “I’ll see you at 6:00. Make sure LINK has an alarm set for you.”

  “You hear him, LINK?” Oliver called over his shoulder.

  “I sure did. Consider it set,” the AI replied.

  Oliver turned back towards the console, and gave them a cheeky smile. “All done. So, Brogan, you going to be around tomorrow? I replicated runkall hoops today. I thought you could teach me some moves since practice
for the upcoming season begins in a few weeks.”

  Brogan managed not to wince as Conall’s eyes slid his direction. Oliver had learned about the sport from his grandfather, Artair, who could usually be found watching matches on their home’s largest console. Brogan had made the mistake of replicating Oliver his own ball without asking his father first. It was too late, he had ignited an interest in the lad.

  Conall interrupted before Brogan had a chance to answer. “I haven’t agreed to let you play this season yet,” he reminded his son. Oliver let out a large sigh.

  “I know,” he grumbled. “But if you do let me, I want to practice.”

  Brogan chimed in. “I’d love to Oliver, but I’m afraid that I won’t be at the house for a few days.”

  Both pairs of eyes slid to him. “Why not?” Oliver asked, as Conall’s brows drew down into a frown. Brogan had been meaning to talk to him about his schedule, but the evening had gotten away from him.

  “The royal coronation will be in a few days, so I have to concentrate on preparing my team. I’ll be spending every waking moment at work until the festivities are over.”

  “That sucks,” Oliver griped.

  “Language,” both men corrected in unison.

  Oliver lowered his head and mumbled, “Sorry,” to them both.

  “What about our security system?” Conall asked.

  “It’s done,” Brogan answered. “I finished installing everything, and had completed all test runs before I found you in the holoroom. I’d meant to tell you, but I got… distracted.”

  A flush crept up Conall’s neck, turning it a tempting shade of pink. Brogan wanted to press his lips there, but not with present company.

  “Does that mean we won’t see you anymore?” Oliver asked unhappily.

  Brogan turned his attention back to the youngster. “Of course not! I’ll be around plenty after things calm down. But for right now, I have to concentrate on my job.”

  Oliver wasn’t appeased. “Okay, but after? Do you promise to help me practice runkall?”

  “Only if your father says it’s alright,” Brogan answered diplomatically.

  “I’ll think about it,” Conall told his son. “Don’t worry about it now. Get ready for bed. We’re only a few minutes away from home.”

  “Okay. Night.” Oliver cut off the transmission before either male could reply.

  Conall sighed and sat back heavily against the transport cushions. Brogan desperately wanted to pick up where they left off, but a glance outside told him that they’d be pulling onto the MacLeod estate in under a minute—certainly not enough time to satisfy his longing.

  “I’m sorry we were interrupted,” Conall told him. He opened his mouth to say more, but Brogan cut him off.

  “You never have to apologize for tending to your son,” he told Conall emphatically. “He’s lucky to have such an attentive father.”

  The man chuckled. “I don’t think he sees it like that.”

  “Maybe not now, but he will later. Trust me.”

  The transport pulled into the garage, parked, and turned itself off. There was more illumination now, but the garage was empty of anyone else. That could change at any moment, so Brogan needed to hurry.

  He put his hand back on Conall’s neck to be sure he had the male’s attention. Conall’s eyes flared as he locked onto Brogan.

  “As for the other, when things settle down for me at work, I’d like to resume our earlier… conversation. If that’s alright with you.”

  Conall nodded in reply.

  “Good.” Brogan stroked Conall’s cheek with his thumb a couple of times before he reluctantly removed his hand and opened the door. “Then I’ll see you in a few days.”

  He left the house quickly, before the temptation to kiss the other male became too much for Brogan to bear.

  *****

  After Brogan left, Conall walked into Oliver’s bedroom to say goodnight, but was met with an empty bed. He wasn’t in the bathroom either, so Conall decided to ask for help, rather than wander the house searching.

  “LINK, you with me?”

  “As always,” the AI responded.

  “Can you tell me where I can find Oliver?” Conall asked.

  “He’s currently in his classroom.”

  “Thanks.”

  Conall headed down the hall. Oliver was right where LINK had said: in his classroom, eyes glued to the semi-circle of consoles, while he played some kind of game. It was a simulation of a space race, where Oliver was steering a virtual ship amid an asteroid field. The debris was hurtling at fast speeds, but Oliver was effectively dodging everything. One hunk of rock in particular he narrowly missed by inches.

  “Oh, man! Did you see that?” Oliver asked excitedly, surprising Conall. He didn’t think the lad had heard him enter the room, since the speakers were all pumping out the sounds from the game.

  Before he could answer, a disembodied voice replied, “No, I’m too busy trying to beat the level. We’re almost there!”

  It was then that Conall saw another ship darting through the maze of rocks. He only watched it for a moment before it collided with the side of an asteroid, sending out a rather impressive virtual explosion.

  “Son of a grungle! I lost,” the voice exclaimed, as Oliver’s ship dodged the inferno and exited the asteroid field to cross a finish line.

  “Guess you’ll have to keep practicing,” Oliver taunted. “Want to play another round?”

  Conall cleared his throat loudly, and Oliver turned in his chair. “Hey, Da’,” he greeted warily.

  He knew he’d been caught disobeying, and was judging his father’s mood to see if he was going to be punished or not. Before Conall could reply, one of the consoles changed to show another young lad sitting in an impressive gaming chair. He wasn’t Arathian, but instead had green skin and black spikes sticking out from all directions on his head.

  “Hi, Mr. MacLeod,” the boy greeted and waved.

  Conall stepped closer to the array of consoles, and Oliver introduced them.

  “Da’, this is Arjen. He’s in my class. I was going to go to bed like you said, but he called to tell me he’d gotten this game and I wanted to check it out. Did you see me playing?”

  “Aye, I did. It’s impressive. How long have you been playing it?”

  “Just since last night.” Oliver answered. “It’s pretty cool how we can link and play together, huh?”

  “It is,” Conall agreed. “You’ll have to show me how it’s done.”

  “Okay!” Oliver swiveled back in his chair and took the controls. Conall interrupted him before he could replay the level.

  “Not tonight. You lads both have class in the morning. It’s time for bed.” His words were met with simultaneous grumbles. “You can show me how it’s done tomorrow, after class and homework.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Oliver answered sullenly. “See you tomorrow, Arjen.”

  “Bye, Oliver. It was nice to meet you Mr. MacLeod,” Arjen called before his video went black.

  Oliver put his consoles on stand-by before getting up and walking with Conall out of the room. Conall put his arm around the lad’s shoulders and gave him a sideways hug.

  “You were really impressive piloting that ship through the asteroid field. Well done.”

  Conall was sure that wasn’t what Oliver had expected him to say.

  “Thanks. Can I replicate a gaming chair like Arjen’s?”

  “We’ll see. You did just disobey me by staying up after I told you to go to bed.”

  “Sorry,” Oliver mumbled.

  Conall didn’t plan on coming down on his son. To be honest, he was happy that Oliver had a friend. Arjen was the first person his own age that he’d played with. It was a relief.

  “How many replicator credits do you have?” Conall asked.

  Oliver sighed heavily. “Not enough for the chair I want.”

  In lieu of giving Oliver an allowance in paper money (once all chores were completed, of course), like h
e’d done at home, Conall had instead given him credits he could use on the replicator. Technically, since the family owned the piece of tech outright, they could replicate as much as they wanted, but he didn’t like the idea of giving Oliver free reign. The lad needed to earn the things he wanted, just like in the real world. But there were times when Conall liked to spoil his son—just like any father did.

  “Well, we can talk about it in the morning over breakfast.”

  Oliver perked up at that. All kids knew that a “maybe” was definitely not a “no.”

  “Where did you go tonight?” Oliver asked as they entered his bathroom.

  “To Talavera with Brogan.”

  Oliver’s expression dropped and his shoulders fell, his toothbrush held in his hand. “I wanted to go,” he whined.

  Conall had expected this. “I know, but I wanted to go just myself the first time to make sure it was safe.”

  “And?”

  “And, I’ll take you there sometime soon.”

  “Can Brogan come with us?” Oliver asked.

  “Maybe, I’m not sure. He’s got an important job, you know.”

  Oliver nodded. “Aye, I remember.” He began to brush his teeth.

  After he spit, Conall asked, “Why do you want him to come?”

  “’Cause he’s cool.”

  Conall waited expectantly for his son to continue, but true to children’s nature, he didn’t.

  “Is that all you like about him? That he’s cool?”

  “No. I like that he’s super smart and teaches me stuff. I think everyone likes having him around.”

  He teaches me stuff too, Conall thought to himself.

  Their time together in the transport had been a truly unique experience for him. Never had he wanted another’s man’s lips on his own. Never had he burned under the touch of a man’s hands. The memory had heat rushing through his body. The feeling of Brogan’s lips…

  Conall’s eyes shot open. In the bathroom mirror, his reflection was startling. His neck and face were flushed, nipples pearled (clearly visible under his shirt) and there was a definite bulge in his jeans. Conall stepped out into Oliver’s bedroom, and paced to cool off before his son could see.