by R. Cooper
Lin and Nev made identical grunts of agreement.
“Officially?” Tsomyal hummed. “You are smarter than that, Private.”
“Taji.” Trenne caught Taji before he could ask more questions. “Do you require more food? A drink?”
Taji braced himself, then raised his head to meet Trenne’s eyes. He shook his head. Trenne actually frowned.
“Feeds mention the emperor’s successful hunt,” Taji informed everyone, and suspected he was too weak to stand. The food wasn’t calming his stomach. His hands were shaky so he left them in his lap. “Do you think he really has dungeons in the Olea estate? That’s where it was, right? It was an Olea emperor when the first IPTC arrived. Is that the traditional punishment for spies? It couldn’t have been the treason excuse that time. They can’t charge us with treason. He could perhaps make the argument for Lin or Trenne, though, I don’t know the legalities.”
“They do not have to charge us with anything to kill us.” Lin hefted several bags onto her shoulder. Tsomyal hummed again, probably agreeing.
Taji narrowed his eyes. “Way to hand IPTC a reason to just take over the planet. Ancient tech no one except a few nobles have bothered to update is not going to save anyone. Worship of the past without understanding it. Removing almost all opportunities for social mobility. Restricting innovation to a handful of estates. All those things led to a stifling of your culture and it hasn’t recovered. The standard, official language stagnated, just like the culture did. They used to reward soldiers and generals, exceptional craftspeople. They went to the moon and probably considered going beyond it. Some might still dream of it.” Even Larin had, once. “We lost Nadir because the great Sha don’t know how to handle a new idea.”
Taji flattened the sneer at his lips but only with effort. “Oh, be quiet, Trenne,” he added, tone crackling with his sudden surge of fury. “You thought it, too. More than once, probably. Before I ever thought it, that’s for sure. You can act blank around the Sha all you like, but the rest of us know the truth. There is very little you don’t consider, and you have the sort of contempt for Shavian nobility that comes with years of seeing them at their worst.”
The cabin went silent.
A shiver went through one of Trenne’s ears. He flicked it back.
“Yes, Taji shehzha,” Trenne broke the quiet at last. He didn’t look away, although everyone could hear. “This world will change in ways we cannot know. That is unavoidable. That is where the Sha leads now, with brains and hopefully with honor. But my assessment does not matter. What will happen will happen without my words in the hands of the Sha, even the Inri. Words are powerful. They have meaning.”
Taji lost his breath. “Trenne.”
He was still shaking, could see the tremble in his hand when he splayed it over Trenne’s leg.
“He beckons,” Lin said wisely, sending Rodian stumbling out of the flier.
“We do not speak it!” Mos whispered.
Taji didn’t look at her. “I’m sorry,” he told Trenne, hot from head to toe.
Trenne gently fitted his hand to Taji’s jaw. “You did not care for that food? Are you well?”
“You asked that before,” Taji informed him faintly but then finally answered. “I think the meds did something to my stomach, and my muscles ache from yesterday. The running and…everything.”
Trenne caressed his cheek. “Will you allow me to help you?”
“Ah,” someone said, with very humanlike surprise, “to make it better.”
“Private Markita, if you would,” Tsomyal murmured. “Now.”
Taji stared into Trenne’s eyes. “Okay,” he agreed quietly, “but I’m sure I’ll be fine in a while. I’m not damaged.”
“No.” Trenne’s fingers brushed Taji’s ear.
“I, uh, am going to take the ambassador to the other flier,” Markita croaked.
“Lin will direct you.” Trenne didn’t sound like he was giving an order, but Taji heard muffled swearing, stomping footsteps, and then nothing.
It was the nothing that made him finally break Trenne’s stare and look around.
The other seats were empty. Mos and Tsomyal were gone, as were Lin and Markita. All the crates and bags had been opened and ransacked for anything useful. The cargo door was still open, sending pale violet light into the cabin.
“They’re gone?” Taji wondered, pressing his fingertips into the meat of Trenne’s thigh. “You called me shehzha again,” he added in a daze, smiling for the second before he realized. “They expect us to fuck.” He stiffened. “Danger everywhere and they think I’m whining for sex. I think I am whining for sex. You’re amazing, but this is not the time.”
Trenne trailed a touch down Taji’s throat to the back of his neck, leaving Taji to shiver.
“I’m probably smelly and disgusting,” Taji pointed out. No one should want him now, although his wanting Trenne made perfect sense. He always did. “This is just stress. I’m being a bother.”
“Do you think I would be able to focus with you in need?” Trenne asked softly. “Have I honored you wrong?”
Taji reached up to loosely catch Trenne’s wrist and closed his eyes because his adoration was probably too much. “You know…you know how I felt about you before, I’m sure. I get that this is neurochemicals and sex, but you can’t say things like that when I… Words have meaning.”
“Have I honored you wrong?” Trenne asked again and settled his hand firmly at Taji’s nape.
Taji shook his head before reopening his eyes.
“Then what can I give you?” Trenne hadn’t moved but he felt closer.
Taji’s temperature seemed to spike. He swallowed. “I don’t need anything,” he said, while hoping Trenne’s fingers would slide over his hair.
“Taji.” One word, gently chiding.
“I don’t know,” Taji whispered. “I shouldn’t want anything. You’re so pretty. You snapped at her and you were so far away from me and—” He shut his mouth with a click of his teeth, opened it again, then licked his lips. “I want to be the one to make you,” he had to be clear, use Trenne’s words, “ejaculate. I want to not think. I want to be mindlessly focused on pleasing you.” Taji took a deep breath. “I want to use my mouth.”
Part of him was still aware that was a bad thing, at least for the moment. “I don’t have to swallow,” he promised. “There’s my hand, or my face, if you want.” He drifted forward and ducked his head. “Or we can do nothing.” It came out as a whine.
“Do you think…” Trenne apparently had to take a moment to continue. “Do you think you are feeling something you should not this soon?”
This soon. Taji shuddered. Someday, if they lived, Trenne still intended to make him a proper shehzha. “I don’t know,” Taji admitted, the fabric of Trenne’s pants rough against his lips. “This could be all the danger, or the pain medication, or just…you. I can touch you now if I want to. Maybe I’m caught up in that, but I can stop.”
Trenne finally dragged his fingers over Taji’s scalp, pulling a surprised moan out of Taji. “We have these moments. We might not have many more. Take what you want, shehzha.”
Taji turned his head, tipping his face to nuzzle the thick outline of Trenne’s cock through his pants. His tongue was dry. He pulled back to swallow and wet his mouth. He was breathless. “Honor works both ways,” he said in a rasp, rather than ask if Trenne was sure.
Another gentle caress over the shell of his ear was his answer, and then Trenne exhaling his name.
Taji shifted forward in his seat, his data device sliding off his lap and landing between his bare feet. The floor was cold, although Taji barely noticed the chill in his toes. He closed his hand around the hilt of Trenne’s knife, which Trenne had left at the front of his belt. Trenne’s slightly faster breathing was his reward, though Taji had no intention of taking the knife from him now.
He dropped his attention to the belt itself, and then, beneath that, the flies of Trenne’s pants. He was clumsy there,
huffing in frustration at his own fingers, but finally got it open, got his hand inside and pulled out Trenne’s cock.
Trenne wasn’t hard yet; Taji didn’t particularly mind. He swallowed again, dry mouth no longer a problem. He stroked Trenne slowly a few times to see and feel Trenne’s cock fill his hand. Trenne’s textured palm pressed against the top of Taji’s spine. Trenne curled his fingers, dragged them back up to Taji’s hair.
The human tongue was rough compared to a Shavian’s. Taji wanted him to know how it felt. Saliva was thick in his mouth as he licked the tip. Trenne inhaled, but did nothing else. Taji put the flat of his tongue against one of the soft nerve bundles. Trenne inhaled, louder, harsher. Taji would have smiled, but he was sucking wetly on the same nodule until Trenne’s other hand was on his shoulder.
Trenne petted restless sweeps over sensitive skin. It only made Taji suck harder, pausing to move to the next one or return to the head. It had a taste now, something other than skin and sweat. Taji chased that, drawing more onto his tongue.
Trenne’s cock was wet from his mouth. Taji squeezed it gently, reveling in the dark purple flush, the weight. He kept his lips loose as Trenne got hard, spit building up in his cheeks. He couldn’t resist another slow drag of his tongue across the tip. It might not be as sensitive as the nerve bundles, but the muscles in Trenne’s thigh flexed. Another burst of that flavor made Taji hum.
It occurred to him that he didn’t know any vernacular terms for cocksucking in ‘Asha. It was going to be difficult to beg for this later if he didn’t know.
He flicked a look up.
Trenne’s ears were straight. His attention was sharp, his gaze so warm that Taji closed his eyes to bask in it.
He put his rough human tongue to use, and one of his hands. Others were waiting. Trenne deserved slow pleasure, but he told Taji to take what he wanted, and that little trickle of taste made Taji’s heart pound, blood throbbing in his ears.
He could feel Trenne’s pulse against his palm, and the shivery jolts through his muscles when Taji rubbed his thumb over nerve clusters and stroked him from root to tip. But he didn’t attempt to take more. He curled his fingers into Trenne’s thigh and inched forward to tease out another drop. It mingled with the saliva he couldn’t completely swallow, and was lost down his chin.
Taji wiped at it absently before pulling back to lick his fingers.
“We cannot,” Trenne told him roughly, as though he knew how much Taji wanted his mouth filled.
“I know,” Taji whined, all hunger. He was dizzy, burning up. In his dreams, he was allowed to grasp Trenne’s thigh and wrap his lips around his cock. In dreams, not real life. But Trenne kept sweeping his fingers across Taji’s skin, pointedly gentle, but nonetheless urgent. His breathing was strained. Taji wanted this for hours.
He didn’t have to coax the flavor out now. He wondered if this happened even when Trenne didn’t ejaculate. If Trenne had still filled Taji when he had first fucked him.
He moaned around Trenne’s cock. If he wanted, if he was fast, Trenne might come in his mouth anyway.
Trenne’s breathing said he was not calm. His words were almost a groan, as if this was painful. “I do not want to tell you no. But I will. You are scared. We cannot.”
Taji frowned before pulling off. He kept his hand where it was, then opened his eyes. “But I want.” He couldn’t remember ever wanting someone’s come in his mouth like this, drooling not because his mouth was full, but for the taste.
“You are beautiful.” Trenne lightly stroked the back of Taji’s neck. “I also want.”
It didn’t make it better, but it did send a bolt of pleasure down Taji’s spine. He closed his eyes, drifting in to run his tongue over soft, sensitive skin, hot and pulsing. Trenne wrapped a hand over his and brought it up to the head to squeeze. He went hard and fast, as though Shavians masturbated—because of course they did—and that was how he did it when alone.
Barracks self-pleasure. Quick and dirty efficiency. Taji wondered what Trenne thought of. If it was an open-mouthed kahne waiting for ropes of his come. A beckoning shehzha.
“Come on,” Taji commanded breathlessly. “I miss the taste already. Please. I want it. You’ll give it to me, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Trenne agreed shortly, the fingers at Taji’s neck going still a second before his come started to spill into Taji’s palm.
Taji mouthed messily at a nodule, his whole body thrumming at the sound Trenne made. Semen was slippery on his hand. Trenne held it there, filling it, letting come drip hot down Taji’s wrist. He made the sound again, hoarse and panting, and finally stopped. He pulled Taji’s hand away, but didn’t release him.
“Now, yes, shehzha,” Trenne told him, bringing that hand forward, and Taji turned instantly to lick the mess from his wrist.
All he could hear was his heartbeat and the desperate lapping noises of his tongue before Trenne took his hand away again. It took him a while to realize Trenne was whispering. “Apologies.” Trenne caressed him carefully, fingertips over his ear, at his nape. “Apologies. I do not want to deny you.”
Taji swallowed, then swallowed again. “I’ve never…don’t apologize. I…Trenne—”
In what felt like one motion, Trenne tugged Taji to his feet, slid an arm around his waist, and got his other hand in Taji’s pants. Taji left his face hidden against Trenne’s chest, his encouragement nothing but murmurs. He was too hot to think, his skin shocky and sensitive.
Trenne’s voice was quiet but clear. “My youth was nothing here and my death is nothing to IPTC but an inconvenient loss. I give meaning where I choose to give it, and if the end of my life approaches, I will still stop for you, Taji shehzha. This moment is more than I wished for. You gave me that. I will stop for you whenever you ask and give you this.”
Taji curled the fingers of one hand into Trenne’s belt. He closed his other hand over the hilt of Trenne’s knife and gasped as Trenne made him come.
MAYBE IT was the fact that they were all facing a very uncertain future, but when Taji approached the other flier—cleaned up but still flushed, stumbling drunkenly under Trenne’s watchful gaze—no one said a thing.
TAJI HAD joked that it might have originally been the shehzha’s choice to stay hidden from view, but the idea had more merit once he was packed into an overcrowded flier and settled onto Trenne’s lap.
Tsomyal was on Markita’s knees, which neither of them seemed happy about, so Taji tried to ignore his embarrassment. It didn’t help that Trenne climbed into the seat next to Ledo before pulling Taji to him, and the warmth of his arms made Taji let out a sigh of contentment that brought Ledo’s attention to him before Ledo thankfully elected to ignore him again.
It said volumes about everyone’s exhaustion and worry that no one spoke as the flier went up and the outskirts of the capital became the capital itself.
“The Fires,” Trenne murmured after a while, directing Ledo, who didn’t even nod. They had all probably discussed this while waiting for Taji and Trenne. Taji closed his eyes for that, but he was riding a crest of oxytocin and endorphins so that was all he did.
“Don’t think we’re going to make it to the Fires today,” Ledo said after a few minutes had passed, and Taji opened his eyes.
A flurry of movement behind him turned out to be Mos, holding onto their seat to stay up as she stared at the city.
Several small fliers circled the air above the Fire District. Civil Guard fliers, if Taji had to guess.
“No one allowed in at the moment,” Ledo filled them in, either reading it on his screen or listening to the other pilots on his comm.
“The Fires is artisans, right? Working people, artists, traders and such? The Inri and their jewelry?” Taji was slow to wake up and slow to grasp the situation. “Are they arresting people? B’lyad, this must be the unrest they were hinting at. I knew it.”
“Yes, you are brilliant, Mr. Ameyo,” Tsomyal told him dryly, but with some weariness. “That may explain why no one ha
s bothered us, if Larin hasn’t forgotten about us for now. There are other matters in the capital.”
“Does anyone know what keeps causing these…events?” Taji hesitated to call them riots only because he couldn’t imagine a Shavian ever doing such a thing. What he could imagine was resistance to a disrespectful authority, and said authority coming down hard to keep the social order in place.
He thought Markita might have heard gossip from the girl he’d supposedly been seeing, or that Lin might have overheard something.
“Why would anyone be content with a system that tells them they are being honored when they can see that they are not?” Mos’s answer was subdued. “The families take care of their districts, but the capital is the emperor’s. Larin flaunts multiple shehzha. He abandons them. The talk has reached everyone.”