Desert World Rebirth (37 page)

“So, you’re Shan.” A man walked up, tall with wide shoulders and light brown hair. He had a hard look to him, even though he was smiling. “Lieutenant Commander Verly Black,” he offered, holding out his hand. Shan shook it.

“Nice to meet you.” Meeting strangers when flat on his back left him a little uncomfortable, but it seemed rude to say so.

“We actually met before. I carried you out.”

“Oh.” Shan straightened up. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could help. I just wanted to meet the great Shan Polli myself after hearing about you from Temar. He was very worried, and when Temar’s worried, he does tend to make the rest of the universe miserable. I figured if you weren’t okay, I’d transfer to another station.” The smile grew a little wider.

“Temar….” Shan let his voice trail off. He had no idea who Lieutenant Commander Verly Black was talking about, but that didn’t sound like Temar.

“I’d give a lot to have someone love me that much, and feel free to tell me to shut up if I’m out of line, but you may want to avoid the AFP planets after that show. They’re not a very tolerant bunch.”

“And your people are?” Shan asked suspiciously. If this was some attempt to get them to side with a particular alliance, he really didn’t want to deal with it until he could stand on his own two feet.

“No, we really aren’t,” Black admitted, which surprised the snot out of Shan. “My people tend to look down on anyone who doesn’t fit their definition of civilized.”

“Like us,” Shan guessed.

Black shrugged. “Could be. But they’ll deal fairly with anyone who has something they want.” With that, he gave Shan a quick nod. “It’s nice to see you looking better. And let Temar know that I’m sorry I missed him, but I have to get to duty station. Some of us can’t afford to lie around all day.”

Turning around, he headed out the door, leaving Shan to wonder if that was some attempt to warn them or manipulate them. He didn’t know enough about Black or about what had happened to understand. He could only stare at the ceiling and hope that Temar had these political maneuvers in hand. He realized he’d grown used to trying to protect Temar. He was actually uncomfortable that he couldn’t do that now. He couldn’t even stand on his own feet and shave himself.

A man in the ubiquitous light-blue uniform came and checked the machines without a word to Shan himself. Shan didn’t know if he was a nurse or a doctor or even a mechanic. He was certainly more interested in the wires than Shan. It wasn’t the sort of behavior Shan was used to when injured. He missed Hannal’s hands over his leg, calling him names for not getting his burn treated sooner. Of course, he couldn’t have, given that at the time he’d been trapped in the deep desert, trying to walk out before the sandrats got him. However, he associated doctors with warm hands and questions and unhappy glares when you did something stupid. This man who tended Shan’s bed certainly didn’t match that image. He left without a word, and Shan was left to think about how strange these people were until Temar returned.

“Hey, look what I found,” Temar said from the doorway. Shan smiled.

“Please tell me you found whatever strange machine they use for shaving.”

“Better,” Temar said with a smile. “I found an actual razor. The doctor tried explaining how to use their thing, that does this thing with hair follicles, only he kept explaining how improper use can lead to damage of the dermal layers.” Temar grinned. “I think he saw the look of horror on my face at the idea of basically burning your face off.”

“I think I’d rather avoid more injuries.”

“Yeah, I told him I’d rather just have a razor.” Temar came over, balancing a thick bowl with wisps of steam rising from it and a bag hanging from one wrist. “They’re going out of their way to accommodate our odd choices,” Temar said with a wink.

“Odd choices? I take it they don’t approve of us?” Shan hadn’t been awake long enough to make any odd choices, and Temar was usually quiet enough to avoid really catching anyone’s attention. Shan frowned as he thought of Black’s description. Maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate.

“I get the feeling that they’re a little amused by us.”

Shan hated the idea of Temar being alone with people who laughed at him. The man was so intensely private he didn’t even want to deal with his own sister’s emotional spillage, so he shouldn’t have to deal with random strangers. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you to deal with all this,” Shan offered, helpless to do anything else.

“Hey, I’m fine. If they annoy me, I start talking about how strange it is to have bowls and containers that aren’t made out of glass. It’s killing them that we have so much glass that we let school children play at glassblowing.”

“Not with optic-quality glass, we don’t,” Shan pointed out.

“I might not have mentioned that,” Temar said with a shrug. “They may have all the fancy machines, but we still have something they want, and we aren’t going to give it up easily.”

Shan sat up a little more and really studied Temar. He was different. “You’re enjoying this.”

Temar had been taking things out of the bag and setting them up beside Shan’s bedside, but he stopped at that and really looked at Shan. “I think I am,” he said slowly, almost as if he wasn’t sure. “It’s like blowing glass, watching for the signs that you’re applying too much heat or letting the piece cool too much, only instead of fire, you have to find out what heats or cools these people.”

Shan thought of Temar’s glass, the pieces he’d done in school when most students turned out blobs of shapeless glass and uneven rough cups. If Temar could see these people in terms of glass, Shan suddenly wasn’t as worried. “Then I have faith that you know how to keep the temperature right,” Shan said. Temar gifted him with a bright smile.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being able to say that without any doubt at all.”

Shan reached out and took Temar’s hand. “I love you, I trust you, and I really want to shave, so hand over the supplies.”

Temar laughed. “Oh no. You are going to lie there while I do the shaving. You just about got yourself blown up, and one twitch at the wrong time and you’re going to slit your own throat with a straight razor.”

“I’m not that injured.”

Temar made an impolite noise and went back to sorting his supplies. Shan realized he’d lost the battle. He wasn’t sure how, but he clearly had. He settled back into the bed. If Temar wanted to do this for him, that was fine. Temar had made it more than clear that he enjoyed initiating touch, and Shan was more than happy to indulge that particular preference.

Temar put a cloth into the bowl and pulled it up, dripping with water. “You know, they don’t think anything about me taking this much water out of a slosh stall.” Temar paused. “Shower,” he corrected himself.

“We come from different worlds.” Shan reached out and slowly rested his hand against Temar’s arm.

“We do. I miss home, but I have you, which makes it a lot easier to put up with the rest of them.” Temar dunked the cloth in the water again, carefully wringing most of the hot water out before he leaned over and curled the towel around Shan’s face. Shan closed his eyes and let the heat soak into him. At home, they had all the heat they needed, but no one heated water. Hot water created steam, and that led to water loss. The hot water against his skin was a new sensation, one he enjoyed. He liked it better than ice, which made his mouth hurt if he sucked on it wrong.

“Feels good,” Shan muttered. He hadn’t realized his shoulders had been tight, but now he could feel them loosen, the muscles relaxing.

“I’m glad.” Something clinked rhythmically, like a spoon in a bowl. Shan was tempted to raise the towel and look, but he was enjoying the heat and he didn’t like the way his body felt when he moved, like things were pulling tight and he couldn’t really feel them. It was like when you sat on your foot too long and you had to look at it to make sure it was actually still there.

A hand ran up his bare arm, and Shan sank into the feeling of Temar’s warmth against his skin. The towel had started to cool, but when Temar took it away and dropped it back into the steaming bowl, Shan still missed the heat. He never thought he’d be so hungry for heat, but his body craved it. Well, most of his body. Even though Temar leaned against the bed so that Shan could see the angle of his shoulders and the curve of his jaw, his cock was not reacting. His cock always reacted to Temar.

Temar brought his hand up to Shan’s cheek, white foam covering it. The soaplike foam smoothed across his skin. “Smells like….” Shan stopped, not sure how to describe the scent. It was spicy and warm, nothing like the stinging scent of Livre soap.

“Like Mittel Jones’s cooking and the desert at night,” Temar offered, and it was a good description of the soap. Temar’s hands stroked up Shan’s cheeks and then down to his neck, rubbing the foam into his skin. Shan tilted his head back to give Temar more room.

Temar lightened his touch, a finger tracing over Shan’s lip and then up to the tip of his nose. Shan smiled and cracked one eye open. He was fairly sure that his nose didn’t need shaving. Temar followed the bridge of Shan’s nose up, the slick soap leaving a cool trail where Temar touched. “I want to wash all of you,” Temar whispered. “I want to touch every inch until I’m sure you’re really here.”

“Okay,” Shan agreed, not entirely sure what had brought that on.

Temar paused, his palms brushing against Shan’s shoulders, leaving streaks of soap behind. Leaning to the side, Temar grabbed a second towel and wiped his hand. “I’m going to hold you to that as soon as you aren’t connected to every machine in the room.”

“It’s a date,” Shan agreed. Temar took a deep breath, his hands almost shaking for a second, but then he turned a bright smile toward Shan.

“Scared yet?” Temar teased as he held up the straight razor.

“Nope.” Closing his eyes, Shan relaxed back onto his pillow. If Temar couldn’t get control of the hand shake, he’d stop. Shan knew that.

Shan lay still as Temar rested one hand near his ear and then slowly pulled the razor’s edge down his jawline and down to his neck. When Temar pulled the razor back, Shan tilted his head back farther. Temar’s fingers brushed over the newly shaven skin, and Shan shivered as his skin tingled from the touch. He made a little humming noise, and Temar ran a thumb over the skin again before the razor swept down his neck. The warm cloth brushing over the sensitive skin startled Shan, and he opened his eyes to watch Temar. He had an intense look on his face as he got more soap foam from the small jar and stroked Shan’s cheek before running the razor down the next bit of cheek.

“They may have too many machines, but they do know how to make a good razor,” Temar said as he wiped the extra soap off on the towel, wasting the moisture. Moving in again, he angled the blade and drew it gently down, the familiar rasp ending as Temar reached his jawline and pulled away. Shan felt his eyes starting to drift closed again. Despite all the sleep, he was still tired. More than that, Temar had things well in hand. Temar pressed on the underside of Shan’s chin, and Shan obliged by angling his head. Temar took the razor down over his neck, and then Temar laid the warm, wet towel against the sensitive skin.

“You scared me,” Temar said, his voice low and soft. Shan might have tried to answer, but the razor returned, moving down his neck in a way that made talking dangerous, so Shan stayed quiet. “I thought I was going to lose you and I was so angry and afraid.”

Temar flicked the razor away and shifted the towel onto the newly bare skin.

“Do you have any idea what I would do if you left me?” Temar stopped, putting the razor to one side before he leaned forward, one hand on Shan’s shoulder and the other braced against the edge of the hospital bed. “Promise you won’t leave me.” Shan could see the emotions starting to leak out, and he reached out and caught Temar’s hand, holding on as tight as he could.

“Even if something did happen, I would still be watching you, loving you,” Shan promised. He had no control over insane terrorists or freedom fighters or governments. However, he did know he would always love Temar.

Temar looked at him, a storm of emotion in his expression. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Shan pulled the towel off his face and tossed it aside before catching Temar’s arm and tugging him closer. “I don’t have answers or promises. I can’t give you what I don’t have. But I’m here, Temar. I’m fine.” Fine was an exaggeration, but Shan had survived.

“They all wanted me to make the decisions.” Temar bent until his forehead rested against Shan’s shoulder. “That’s not true. They were all trying to make decisions, only their decisions were less than helpful, so I started making better ones, but I was so afraid I would pick wrong. I was so afraid you were going to die on me.”

Shan reached around and offered an awkward hug. “We survived. I survived, and I don’t mind telling you, I wasn’t sure I would. I was pretty sure I was going to die in that room with Melton’s brains staining my shirt.”

“I was terrified,” Temar whispered.

“You were terrified and you did well.” Shan summed it up. He didn’t say anything else, but he could feel Temar’s back start to relax, the hard muscles slowly yielding as Temar rested against him.

“I hate being the one out front. I don’t like it when I have to make the decisions. I hate it even worse when I have to live with the decisions other people make.” Temar muttered the words against Shan’s shoulder, and another day Shan might have pointed out the illogic. If you didn’t want to make decisions or live with others making decisions, that didn’t leave a lot of options. However, today he didn’t feel any need to point that out. Besides, he suspected Temar already knew that. Temar took a deep, shuddering breath and then pulled back.

“Don’t ever come that close to dying again,” Temar said more firmly as he grabbed the discarded towel and put it back in the steaming water.

“Yes, sir,” Shan agreed with a smile.

Temar gave him a hard look. “Don’t start with the sirring. I’ve been ordering these military people around, you know.”

Shan thought about Black’s comment, that when Temar was unhappy, entire universes suffered. “I hear you were quite good at keeping them all in line,” Shan said. A flicker of confusion crossed Temar’s face. “Lieutenant Commander Black stopped by,” Shan said. He watched as Temar’s face pinked. “Temar?”