Chapter 3

THREE

H e was back on the rooftop with Flick, watching the fireworks and holos spell out their names overhead, along with those of the rest of the graduating class. Zed knew it was a dream—a lucid dream, maybe, because he could smell Flick's wonderful scent, the one he hadn't known he'd miss until he didn't catch a whiff of it every day. The tang that reminded Zed of a space station, and circuits, the perfect embodiment of Flick.

They were curled up on the roof—which was much more comfortable than it had been in real life, thank you dreamland—Flick's back to his chest, Zed's arms wrapped around him and holding him close. The unseen fireworks overhead cast Flick's blonde hair in various shades of red and orange and blue and purple that Zed was almost too close to see.

"Gonna miss you," he whispered.

It was a memory, but not—on some level, Zed knew this wasn't quite how that last night had happened, but it didn't matter. One of his hands skimmed downward, slipping under the waistband of Flick's underwear. His groan as he found Flick's rock-hard erection rivalled Flick's.

They hadn't been together enough times for Zed to know what Flick liked, so he improvised. Whatever made Flick squirm and groan and grunt was a good thing—especially when he started rocking back against Zed. God, yes. Zed met each thrust with a press forward of his hips, rutting his cock into the perfect groove of Flick's covered ass. He tucked his face into the crook of Flick's neck and shoulder and breathed in his tangy scent, now overlaid with musk and lust. His thumb swept over the tip of Flick's cock, spreading the warm bead of liquid there all over the head, which only made Flick's movements more frenzied, more desperate.

God, so good. So fucking good. Zed licked the bare skin of Flick's shoulder, not even wondering at Flick's lack of clothing—dreams were dreams.

"Zed, don't stop. Don't."

"Can't," Zed agreed, his voice shaking.

Wait…

He blinked and the rooftop faded away, leaving a bed. A hotel room. Synthesized morning light filtering through the polarized windows. Flick shaking in his arms. Zed's balls drawn up and ready?—

"Fuck," Flick groaned, the curse long, drawn-out, as he stilled for a second, then thrust again. Warmth rushed over Zed's hand, the smell of come and lust intensifying, and even though Zed knew he wasn't dreaming, knew he'd accidentally crossed a line, he couldn't hold back. With a gasp and a cry, he pressed harder into Flick's backside and froze as his orgasm overpowered him.

The bliss fled way too quickly, leaving Zed with a hand covered in cooling jizz and boxers full of the same—and a suspicion that whatever progress he and Flick had made yesterday had been rubbed out along with his morning wood.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Fuck, I'm really sorry."

Flick let out a noise that might have been a sigh or a gentle laugh—it was hard to tell with him facing away from Zed. "Good dream?"

Awkward. "You were in it, so, um…yeah." He pulled away, trying to move so he didn't smear his messy hand anywhere. "So much for staying on my side of the bed. Shit," he muttered, pushing to his feet. "Look, I'll…I'll get you another room, okay?"

"Stop with the room shit. We dealt with that yesterday." Flick rolled over to glare at him.

"Yeah. Before…" Zed waggled his come-covered fingers.

"It was a sleepy hand job. One step above a wet dream." Flick held Zed's gaze, his own hazel eyes unreadable. "Do you hear me complaining?"

No, but that didn't help the shame currently cascading through Zed. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I'm gonna…" He waved at the bathroom.

Flick opened his mouth as if he was going to say something—then closed it, giving a little headshake. "Yeah, okay. Go."

Released from standing there like an idiot, Zed bee-lined for the shower, eager to put this new disaster behind him.

Felix listened to Zed moving around the bathroom. The thick walls of the suite muted the sounds of his progress, but determined attention won through. Felix would rather listen to Zed washing his hands than contemplate what had just happened.

Zed stopped moving after he finished at the sink.

The memory of Zed's body rocking into him slid into the quiet pause. The hard point of Zed cock pushing at the crease of his ass, the rough-smooth texture of Zed's hand over his dick. The pressure of his thumb, the maddening twist every time he pulled up. It'd been the best hand job Felix had ever received—probably because he'd been able to smell Zed's sleep-warm skin, and the fingers wrapped around his shaft had been both familiar and strange.

The best part had been how natural it felt. Right. Inevitable? Felix had been aware of Zed most of the night, his quite breaths, the little shifts as he rolled from time to time. He'd woken a little when Zed moved up behind him and cuddled. What else to do but snuggle backward, let the heat of Zed's chest move through his back and into his chest. Into his heart.

In the bathroom, Zed still hadn't moved—unless he'd figured out how to shower like a ninja.

Two choices floated about on the taste of morning breath. Felix could let Zed shower alone, which would lead to Felix also probably showering alone. Awkward showers would be followed by an uncomfortable breakfast and a day filled with avoiding the fact their hips had moved perfectly in time. After a number of years and a handful of other lovers, they'd fallen into a matched rhythm with nary a hitch. Felix generally didn't bottom, but had Zed had lube handy, he'd have lost his underwear so fast the fiber might combusted with the friction.

Was Zed a top? He had the whole gruff alpha thing going.

Focus, Felix.

He pushed back the covers and scrambled to the edge of the stupidly wide bed, second choice decided upon before he'd fully examined it. Fuck awkward, and fuck plans. If Zed didn't want this, this was his chance to say so. Felix didn't know how they'd make it work, or if they even could. Hell, they might only have these five days—the four remaining. If that was it, then that was it. Seize the day and all that.

His heart jerked around in his chest as he approached the bathroom. A sharp pain across his left palm cautioned him to uncurl his fingers. He stopped in front of the door and looked at his hand. A row of red crescents marked the skin. Maybe he should default back to option one.

His marked up hand had already palmed the door panel, though, and it slid back without remorse to reveal Zed doing exactly what Felix had pictured. He stood by the sink, hands braced against the sides, and looked in the mirror. His boxers were in a heap on the floor and…

All the moisture evaporated from Felix's mouth. Specialist training and two years out in the field had stripped the last softness from Zed's frame. He was still generously proportioned—wide shoulders, powerful arms and legs, firm, ripe buttocks. Shoulders bulging with musculature, rounded pecs and a hard, flat abdomen. There was nothing extra, though. His hips were trim, his legs long and lean. His ass. Felix couldn't lift his gaze from Zed's ass. He knew if he looked a little sideways, he'd catch a glimpse of Zed's cock, but his ass…

"Do you need the head?"

Felix had a feeling Zed had spoken more than once. He'd heard words, but hadn't made sense of them. He looked up. "Huh?"

"Do you need…" Zed gestured the toilet.

"No." Actually, yes, but the vague pressure in his bladder wasn't the reason he'd come into the bathroom. He'd wanted to—what had he been going to do?

Zed made an impatient noise, calling Felix to focus.

"I want to talk," Felix said.

"Can't it wait until I've had a shower?"

"No." Felix moved into the bathroom, into the heady sphere of Zed's naked influence. Holy mother of everything. "God, it's hard to focus on anything with you naked."

"Want to get to the point?"

The sharpness of Zed's tone cut exactly to that, the point. Felix tore his gaze away from naked flesh and looked into Zed's steel blue eyes. "This morning—what happened in bed. Do you regret it?"

"Why?"

Why? Was that some interrogation technique? Get Felix to answer all the questions so Zed didn't have to? Fine.

"Because I don't." Felix held up a hand, forestalling any response from Zed. "It felt damn good and I want to do it again, other way 'round. I want to spend all day in bed with you. I know it can't go anywhere, that these few days are all we're likely to get, but…" He swallowed. "I'm good with that." He wasn't, but he could stretch a lie over a few days and mourn the bastard afterward. "We fit, Zed. It works between us. We could, I dunno, make it about the physical if you like. I know you want me. Why not let yourself have me? Just for today, or the days we have left."

There it was, the proverbial carrot held out for Zed to grab. Flick wasn't even trying to keep it out of his grasp, not anymore—and that pissed Zed off.

"Goddamn it, Flick, you think this is just physical?" He pushed away from the sink and, movements sharp and jerky with temper, turned on the water in the shower. It gave him something to do, something to look at. Something to act as a buffer between him and the guy he'd just… fuck …molested while half asleep. Gritting his teeth, he stepped under the water, not caring that it wasn't the right temperature yet.

Flick grumbled, words Zed couldn't decipher over the rush of water—then the shower door opened and Flick stepped inside. "No, it's not just physical, asshole. Never has been."

Zed swiped water away from his eyes. "Then why would you even say that?"

Flick turned on the other showerhead—wouldn't be an Anatolius suite without that luxury—then crossed his arms and glared at Zed. "Why do you think?"

They shared a hard stare, one that reminded Zed of when they were kids and neither wanted to back down from an argument. But they weren't kids anymore. Zed rubbed the scar on the back of his head and let out a breath.

"'Cause we're both scared." He held Flick's gaze, noticing that it softened a bit with that admission out in the air between them. "Can I tell you what I had planned? Coming here?"

God, this was frightening. More frightening than seeing his lover's wife lift up that shovel with murder in her eyes.

Flick sluiced water away from his face, and Zed reflected that this was not how he'd pictured having this conversation—naked and wet would be a better choice for more fun activities. But, whatever, he'd take it. "Yeah, okay," Flick said, his voice just audible over the soft rumble of the shower.

Time to jump. Zed had no idea if he had a parachute on or not.

"I love you." He held up a hand to stop Flick from saying anything. "Just let me talk for a minute, okay?" He drew in a shaky breath. "I figured it out that night."

"Graduation night? And you didn't?—"

"I didn't. Leaving you was hard enough. The timing wasn't right—you know it wasn't right."

Flick turned his face away from Zed, his jaw tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Zed continued on.

"So, my plan was to see you, now, see if there was a spark beyond friendship and—" Another trembling breath. "If there was, I wanted to talk to you about putting in for a joint posting somewhere."

Flick's gaze snapped back to Zed's. "Joint posting? You mean stationed together?"

"Yeah. It's probably not really an option right yet, and I don't want to rush us into anything. So…maybe not a true joint posting, but we could try to angle for ones that are closer than you on the McCandless and me at the edge of human space. Or at Central. There's got to be a happy medium somewhere, right?"

Flick tilted his head, looking at Zed like he was a particularly interesting—and broken—engine part. The silence spun out between them and Zed adjusted the water temperature, and then the intensity and pattern of the stream, just for something to do.

Flick huffed out an impatient breath. "What are you trying to say?"

Zed suddenly found the interface for the shower really interesting. "Look, I know you already said you were over what happened on graduation night. I get it, I do. But I thought…I'd just put it out there. In case… But if there isn't any chance, then I'll have to live with it, right? Because really, I'm the one who fucked it?—"

"Yeah, you did."

Zed dared a glance at Flick. "I regret walking away without making you a promise. I thought—I wasn't sure. It was such a new thing and—" He shook his head, looking back to the shower controls. "I want to try. I want to be yours, you to be mine. Boyfriends."