13. Chapter 13

Chapter thirteen

T he going-away extravaganza was exactly what Garrett had pictured from the sanctity of his apartment. There were five thousand workers and colonists heading to Pandora, and it seemed like all of them had decided to show up. Apparently, each of them could bring a guest as well, and everyone did, right down to the toddlers.

The docking bay of the Neptune seethed with people. Crowds lined all levels of the bay itself, packed the main floor, and even perched on the ships that were left in there. Garrett noticed several people sitting on top of his own cruiser but didn't bother to get worked up about it. They couldn't get inside, and they couldn't break anything. Hell, he would have preferred to join them, but he hadn't had anything to drink yet, and he wasn't subjecting himself to this without indulging in someone else's alcohol.

There were name tags being handed out at the doors, which Garrett steadfastly refused to wear. There were party hats and noisemakers and floating balloon animals that people could mold and then throw into the air, where they would hover and glow. Children were screaming and laughing, adults were yelling and shouting into the ferocious din, and wafting over it all was the Olympian planetary anthem, coming in tinnily over the speaker system. It was on repeat, apparently. The horns would blow, the tambourines would shiver with their final triumphant rattle, there would be one last strum on the giant lyre … and then it would all start over again.

And again.

Five minutes in, Garrett knew he'd made a mistake. Five minutes after that, and he was beginning to wonder of he'd be able to push through to the outer edge of the pool of people, much less make it back up to his apartment. He decided discretion was the better part of valor and headed for his ship. He could take refuge there.

Apparently, some other people had had the same idea. There was a group of teenagers hanging around the undercarriage of his cruiser, trying to act casual but failing miserably. They were clustered too tightly together for it to be natural, despite the press, and as he got closer, Garrett could see that one of their number was lying on the floor behind them, busily rewiring the controls for his outer locks. The kid had somehow managed to get the paneling off without prying it, which would have set off the alarm. Even as Garrett watched, the hatch hissed lightly and released, opening for the industrious young hacker.

He was impressed more than he was pissed, which was why when he pushed the worried-faced gang out of his way and dragged the girl out, he did it by the arm instead of the hair.

"Hey!" she shrieked, falling back on defensive aggression even as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Get off me!"

"Get off my ship," Garrett replied calmly, letting the girl go but not moving out of her way.

"It's, what, no … it's … no personal ships are allowed to go to fucking Pandora." The way she said it left no doubt as to how she felt about their destination.

"So because it's not supposed to be going with you, it's okay to break into it?"

"I didn't break anything," she muttered. White-blonde hair fell over her eyes, but Garrett could see enough to tell that she was glaring at him. "And you're not coming to Pandora, you're a fucking doll."

"Doll" was a colloquialism for people who had either had a lot of very obvious modifications done in an effort to stand out, or as Garrett had very recently learned, an epithet that naturals used to describe anyone who could tolerate regenerative medicine. Garrett had learned quite a bit about the prejudices that naturals had against normal members of society, "normal" also being a very loaded term, of course. In the society he was entering, normal would be defined by the naturals, who were the majority of people moving to Pandora.

Garrett chuckled at the girl's insult, which seemed to make her even more upset. Her friends vanished into the crowd, their interest waning now that the opportunity for some exciting breaking and entering was denied to them. Her hands had clenched into fists, and her nails dug so deeply into her palms that Garrett thought she might be puncturing the skin. Her caramel skin was taking on a reddish tone, either from anger or shame; he couldn't tell.

"What, you think I'm funny, doll ?" Hmm, that definitely sounded like anger.

"Not exactly," Garrett replied, getting his wayward sense of humor under control. Laughing in her face was just making it worse for her. "And I'm not a doll."

"Yeah, right. You're not a doll like I'm not a fucking reg." "Regs" was another term Garrett had learned recently, intimating that naturals were regular people and everyone else was abnormal.

"Honest. I'm not a doll. I am, however, the owner of that ship. And I want you to put it back together. Now."

"Make me, doll ."

Garrett sighed. The last thing he wanted to do right now was get into a shouting match with a repetitive, angst-filled teenager. On the other hand, it would take security forever to wade through the crowd, and he didn't feel comfortable personally restraining her. Her eyes were darting back and forth, and she was clearly considering making a break for it.

"Tamara." A new voice from behind them made them both turn to look, the girl with apprehension and Garrett with appreciation. It had been forever since he'd heard that accent, the long vowels and rolling drawl turning the girl's name into "Taamrah." Drifters were a rare breed, the last of the real independent traders in this part of the universe. They were born, lived, and died aboard their ships, running from planet to planet and taking on the cargo that most Alliance-based shipping companies refused to.

Technically, they weren't smugglers, but the planets in the Central System did everything they could to restrict interplanetary trading to their own resident shipping cartels. The majority of drifters had been pushed to the Fringe planets, and even there, they were becoming fewer and farther between. This man wasn't wearing a uniform, but Garrett figured he had to be involved in the colony project somehow.

"I didn't break anything," the girl—Tamara—said, but her voice was less angry and more nervous now.

"Didn't say you did," the man replied. "But that doesn't mean you don't need to put somethin' back together. I'll give you five minutes before I let your pa know."

Her face paled almost to the shade of her hair. "You wouldn't."

"Those five minutes've already started," he said gently.

Tamara blew an explosive breath upward, ruffling her bangs, but she turned around and crawled back under the cruiser, swearing just loud enough to be audible but not quite loud enough so they could make out the details. It was probably better that way.

The man settled in next to Garrett and nodded companionably. "Evenin'."

"Thanks for the assist," Garrett replied.

"My pleasure. Tamara's smart as a whip, but that doesn't mean she's got the sense God gave little apples."

Ah, drifter slang. So deliciously quaint. "I gathered as much."

"I reckon you did." The look the other man gave him was amicably tolerant, a lot like the one he'd given the girl, but Garrett could see a welcoming heat behind it. He held out his hand.

"I'm Garrett." It would take too long to explain his last name.

"Jonah." They shook, and when Jonah's fingertips slid against Garrett's palm as he let go, Garrett felt the heat as well. Jonah had the slightly tense look of a man long contained and bursting at the seams, wanting but not knowing how to get what he wanted. He was good-looking, not incredibly handsome but comfortably attractive, with a lean, lanky body a few inches taller than Garrett's and sandy-brown hair tucked back behind his ears. His eyes were a warm brown, and his jaw was a little scruffy with the beginnings of a beard.

Not military, then. Probably not even an expedition member; perhaps he was a consultant. The last thing an inveterate wanderer like a drifter would want was to settle on a planet in the Fringe. They carried their homes with them, they didn't stop moving and put down roots.

That actually made Garrett happy. Here was his hookup, if he played it right.

"Nice ship," Jonah offered. He might as well have been screaming subtext. Garrett liked discussion laced with casual innuendo, and he threw himself into it.

"Thank you. She's been good enough for me lately." She's my home away from home. See how alike we are?

"No other crew members?" No wife, husband, lover, family?

"Nope. Just me." All on my lonesome.

"You been out on her long?" Just how desperate are you?

"The last stretch was for three weeks." Not that desperate, thanks very much, but I'm willing to consider you.

"Plenty long for most people." I'm willing to be considered.

"Hellooo, are you done verbally fucking each other yet?"

They both turned and looked at Tamara, who was rolling her eyes. "It's finished. Can I go already?"

Garrett leaned down and looked at the panel. It was back in place, with no sign of tampering. His hatch was still open, but one push from him would close it. "It looks good."

"Try not to break into any more ships tonight, Tam," Jonah said mildly. Tamara didn't say anything, just brushed by both of them with a scowl.

Garrett looked over at Jonah and decided to drop the innuendo. "I'm much better at fucking people in other ways, actually."

Jonah looked startled for a moment, then laughed. "God, I bet you are. Got anything to drink in there?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." He'd stocked all of the alcohol he'd bought for the journey into his ship, where it would be harder to monitor his consumption than if he stored it in his quarters. "Would you care to look at my selection?"

"Love to."

Garrett opened the hatch all the way and stepped inside, gesturing for Jonah to follow him. Dim lights lit in the narrow hallway as he made his way to his kitchen. Garrett grabbed a couple of glasses from a cabinet and turned around to face Jonah. In the low light, his face was shadowed, mysterious. The way he moved was languidly graceful, more relaxed than Robbie, more comfortable than Isidore. He seemed completely at home in Garrett's space, which Garrett supposed came from a lifetime aboard ships. Jonah had never developed self-consciousness.

"What would you like?"

"What've you got?"

"There's a bottle of pretty decent whiskey." It was excellent whiskey, honestly, but Garrett didn't expect his guest to know the difference.

Jonah nodded slightly. "Sounds fine."

Garrett poured the amber liquid into the tumblers—a classic whiskey, using Old Earth grain varieties. He handed a glass over to Jonah, and they toasted each other silently, then drank. The liquid burned on the way down and was immediately followed by such a relaxing smoothness that Garrett sighed appreciatively.

Jonah sipped once to taste, then knocked the rest of his back. A second later, he belied his languorous posture by slipping quickly in front of Garrett, his hands coming to rest lightly on the other man's hips. Garrett followed suit and swallowed his whiskey down, then set the glass aside.

The warmth welling inside of him was partially from the alcohol but mostly from being surrounded by a hot, willing partner. Someone who wanted him. He hadn't felt wanted much lately, but if the slight trembles in Jonah's hands were anything to go by, he sure as hell was wanted now. Garrett twined his arms around Jonah's shoulders and pulled him down into a kiss.

That was where Garrett's direction ended. Jonah took control of the kiss, his mouth slanting hot and hard against Garrett's lips, and the taste of whiskey backed by the insistent thrust of his tongue was more intoxicating than any alcohol. His hands moved restlessly against Garrett's form, mapping the curves and planes of his body beneath his suit, and suddenly there were way too many clothes separating them.

"Bed," Garrett gasped as he pulled back for a second. "Across the hall—" His voice cut off abruptly as Jonah bent quickly and threw Garrett over his shoulder, squeezing the breath out of him. He didn't protest, just let himself be carried into his small bedroom and tossed down onto the bed. He bounced and was filled with the sudden inexplicable urge to giggle, which would have been embarrassing. Fortunately, Jonah followed him down fast and stopped his impending outburst with another kiss. Garrett heard the faint groan in the back of Jonah's throat and realized that however long it had been for him, it had been a lot longer for his hookup. Jonah didn't just want Garrett, he needed him.

"You've got me," Garrett whispered, slowing the kiss down a little, smoothing his hands over Jonah's back and shoulders. "You've got me, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Jonah shuddered for a moment, then pulled back. His hair was loose around his face, making him look young. He gave Garrett a half smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean to just jump you."

"I like jumping, jumping is good," Garrett assured him.

Jonah somehow managed a nonchalant shrug from a prone position. "Still, not exactly polite of me. I sorta skipped ahead a few steps." He smiled more genuinely. "I mean, you haven't even shown me how good you are at other ways of fucking people."

Garrett laughed. "For starters, I'm fantastic at oral. Is that what you'd like?"

"For starters," Jonah replied. "Then I'd like to fuck you into the mattress."

Ah. Well. It had been quite a while since Garrett had bottomed for anyone. Actually … it had been since Robbie. Years, now. Every person he'd fucked since then, he'd, well, fucked them.

Jonah was watching his face closely. "You don't care for that?"

"I do, actually. It's just been some time since I have."

"We'll take it slow if you want it."

Garrett grinned. "Slow doesn't seem to be your forte."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Jonah said. "I can make it so slow you beg me for it, darlin'."

Why did Garrett shiver when he heard that silly pet name applied to himself? Maybe it was the concept of begging for it. Yes, that was it. "Maybe after some oral fucking. I do have something to prove, after all."

"True that." Jonah kissed him again, then sat back on his heels and pulled off his shirt. His chest was lean and broad and dusted with dark curls of hair. He unfastened his pants and stood up just long enough to shuck them and his underwear to the floor and step out of his boots, then sprawled back down on the bed, not on top of Garrett but beside him. He took one of Garrett's hands in his own and brought it down to his thick, hot erection. The tip was already wet.

Garrett didn't bother to undress, he just slid over until their bodies were flush, silk cloth against silky skin. He kissed Jonah's mouth again, then his chin, then made his way down his throat and over his chest as he slid down the bed. Garrett pumped his hand along Jonah's cock, once, twice, then his mouth was even with it, and he couldn't resist leaning in to taste. He flicked his tongue across the tip, catching the pre-come and savoring the tang of it on his tongue before leaning in and closing his lips over the head. Jonah groaned loudly and spread his legs, and Garrett shifted to settle between them.

Jonah was large, a little longer than average, and thick enough that Garrett had to work to relax his throat around him. He could do it; he'd spent many nights of his misbegotten youth practicing deep throating on anyone who was interested, but it had been a long time since he'd had someone who really made him stretch. He took Jonah's cock deep into his mouth until his lips brushed wiry curls, then went back again, rising up to the head and swirling his tongue around it.

Garrett pulled off and ran his wet, clinging lips down the velvety skin, breathing hot breaths against it as he wrapped his fingers around Jonah's balls and pulled, ever so lightly. When he had Jonah squirming in his grip, seeking pressure and trying to thrust but not finding purchase, he swallowed him down again.

"Gonna come if you keep this up," Jonah warned him with a gravelly voice.

Garrett removed his mouth with a slick, obscene pop. "I'm sure I can make you come more than once tonight."

"Promises, promises," Jonah muttered, spreading his legs wider. "But yeah, I reckon you can."

"Let's find out," Garrett said. He got his knees underneath him and positioned himself more comfortably, and then he went to town. He licked and sucked, he hummed and tugged and stroked as he worked the heavy cock stretching his lips. Pre-come gushed into his mouth, just a little and then a lot, and after a few minutes, Jonah's abdomen was as hard as a board, his breaths were shallow, and then his hands buried themselves in the softness of Garrett's hair as he came in Garrett's mouth, so hard and so much that Garrett almost choked on it.

He pulled back when the flow stopped, enjoying the quivers racing through Jonah's body as he slowly came down from his orgasmic high. Garrett gently stroked Jonah's thighs and stomach, content just to watch him for a while.