Somebody Else's Space Program
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Chapter Nine ". . . black, white, green, red . . ."
Ross's birthday, and he could get free of the garage if he chose. Not that there was anywhere else he wanted to be, but . . . it was nice to be able to choose.
"What would I do if I left? Well, I could get a dog again. No place to keep one here." Ross sighed. "They'd let me. It isn't fair to the dog." He collected his jacket and slung it over his shoulder.
He was reaching for the door knob when there was a soft knock. "Yes?"
"Letter for you."
"Okay." Ross opened the door. It was one of the younger mechanics -- seventeen next month, if Ross remembered right.
The kid grinned. "It's your birthday, right? Want to go out for a banana split or something? Just to get out of here?"
"I really wasn't planning on heading into town -- I'm going to wear out some shoe leather. I've got some things to think about."
"Some other time, then."
"Yes."
The mechanic turned and headed down the hall. Ross looked at the envelope. The same heavy paper that his invitation to the race track had been. He opened it carefully.
Greetings
Please present yourself at six in the evening at room 702 of the Muller Building.
Tarpeian
That was it. Well, Tarpeian was the nominal head of the garage, so . . .
Plenty of time to wander around until then, though.
---
Ross almost lost track of the time. He had to sprint the last few blocks -- he hoped there wasn't the nonsense of a surprise party -- he would look a fine fool, disheveled and out of breath.
He was greeted at the door by Medlen. "Calm down. No one is going to spring out at you. We're going out to dinner with Mairyonven but she isn't here yet -- would you like to shower and change clothes?"
"Sure."
The suite was part office, part apartment. In the bedroom there was an oversized bed, a conservative dark suit and a dress shirt laid out on it. On the floor was a pair of new shoes, gleaming softly. Medlen handed Ross a bathrobe and a razor. "Everything else you need is in the bathroom. Take your time."
The water was hotter than he usually got back in his apartment. The soap had a strange scent to it -- something the hruss brought with them from home? It lathered well, so he used it to shave as well. Then there was a sharp knock on the door, startling him. "I'll be right out."
A quick rinse, and toweled off, throwing the robe around himself.
The lights were dimmed in the bedroom when he came out, and the suit wasn't arrayed on the bed any more. A soft voice behind him. "Happy birthday, Ross."
"Thank you, Mairyonven. Ah . . . we are going out to dinner?"
"Shortly." Hands on his waist. He froze. "We have customs, my friend, when one of us becomes an adult." Her voice dropped, caressed . . ."Jheraind asked me to see that you were . . . dealt with? That will do."
Faint stirrings went absolutely cold at that name. Could he even look at her without thinking of other possibilities? "I don't think this is going to work."
A deeper voice, "Perhaps I'm more to your tastes." A hand touching his neck, dry, a little rough. "You're trembling."
Ross's breath came quick and shallow. His eyes closed, he was afraid . . . no, he was afraid of not being afraid, afraid of wanting something he had been told was wrong, not even the dignity of it being evil, but unnatural, disgusting . . .
Gentle hands turned him around, distracting him, then a double embrace. A hand behind his head drew his face down for a kiss. Soft lips, and then a tongue, ever so slightly insistent, pushing into his mouth, exploring. _That_ was intriguing -- he had never considered that sort of thing before.
She accepted his tongue in return, nibbling gently on it. Her mouth was soft and warm, and spicy as her scent was spicy. Other, dryer lips mock-nibbled lightly on his neck. Ross turned his face up, a different taste, a more forceful kiss; the man's tongue was less hesitant than the woman's.
Hands slid inside Ross's bathrobe, easing it off him. He found himself being steered over toward the bed, lowered onto it . . . hands on him, exploring, teasing. "What do I do?" Ross whispered.
Mairyonven's hand took his, slid it along her body. One of Medlen's hands explored Ross's body. "What do you want to do? Today is for _your_ pleasure."
Ross shivered. Neither of them were Jheraind, and yet . . ."I don't know what I want. Everything," he whispered hoarsely. "I want everything. Teach me _everything_."
"Yes."
---
Drowsing, Ross chuckled softly. "This is not real."
Medlen's hand traced a line of sweat that ran from high on Ross's chest to his navel. Ross sighed contentedly. "It's real," the older man answered. "Are you thinking of anything in particular?"
"I shouldn't feel so good." A giggle escaped. "This can't be right. Maybe I should feel this way about Mairyonven, but not about both of you. Especially not about you. I shouldn't want another man to do what you did to me."
Ross could hear the smile in the other man's voice. "We're not done yet."
Ross choked back a surprised laugh. "What? There isn't anything else."
Medlen's hands reached down, teased the younger man back up to an erection. "At this point, you're going to last for a while before you fire." Rearrangement on the bed, until Ross was behind Medlen, Medlen's back to him. "Go ahead."
"You want me inside you. The same way you rode me. You want me to treat you like a woman." Was there a touch of contempt in that?
Laughter from Mairyonven, echoed by Medlen. "That's not the way it is. Come on -- I'm ready for you."
The passage was well-lubricated, and open enough that it wasn't painful. At one point, Medlen clamped down, holding Ross inside. Medlen gasped, then relaxed. And soon after, Ross couldn't hold back any more.
---
Ross's first thought was wondering why he had been allowed to wake on his own, instead of being greeted by a sloppy wet tongue. Then, as more of his brain kicked in, he realized that the bodies with him in the bed were human sized, and smooth skinned.
Bodies. His hand crept out, hesitantly, and touched . . . Medlen's voice, "Good morning, Ross." And something in the hruss language, followed by, "I greet you on your first morning," which might have been a translation. "How do you feel?"
"Hungry." Ross laughed, nervously, "We missed dinner."
"Yes, we did. I should have had food here for after. I forget how often a young fellow like you has to eat."
An edge of contempt, "I thought you would be used to that. Do you collect all of your mechanics as they turn eighteen? Do you even wait?"
"Who are you hating, Ross? Me? Yourself? Or your aunt, who filled your head with poison over who it was proper to love? Nothing we did was wrong." A firm hand under Ross's chin, tilting his head up for a kiss. "Nothing."
Ross surprised himself by not only accepting the kiss, but returning it almost feverishly. He pushed the older man onto his back and sprawled over him, forcing his lips hard against Medlen's, his tongue deep into the other man's mouth.
---
Mairyonven slipped out of the room while the two men were busy. A word with one of the guards -- breakfast would arrive shortly. The children were still asleep . . . She smiled down at the bed the two little ones shared. Would one of her next children have golden hair like the father? Very likely not -- she doubted there would be another time, not by the signs.
"Jheraind, you were right. I wish you had lived to take him under your hand." She sighed, "You were so sure that this one was your partner, your destiny. I could see you aching not to touch him." She bit her lower lip, tears welling in her eyes. "I miss you so much, big brother."
She leaned over to kiss the little ones. The younger one, a boy, woke, his great eyes dark. His tiny hand came up and touched her face, feeling the damp of the tears on her cheek. His hand went to his mouth, tasting the salt. "Not cry, Mama, not cry."
"You're right, little one, precious one, I shouldn't cry." She scooped Envyss up and held him to her. He giggled and threw his arms around her neck.
The little girl woke, wanted hugs too. "Mama, you said today we could go look at the puppies."
"Yes, Serelda. Look at -- not get one. Do you understand that? If you beg me for a puppy, we leave, right then. If you beg me for a puppy later, we don't visit any more."
"Okay, Mama," the little girl said.
The little one echoed, "Okay, Mama."
"Good." A sound in the other room. "Breakfast is here -- let me get you dressed."
---
Ross dozed off after the lovemaking. Medlen waited a few minutes, then kissed the young man on the forehead. Not a stir. Medlen slipped over to the edge of the bed and, retrieving his clothes, made his way to the bathroom. A quick shower and shave, clothes, a quick pass with the comb at his hair. The longer hair of the hruss didn't suit Medlen for himself, but it was intriguing in a lover. Not that Ross would ever let himself adopt hruss styles . . . after two years with the garage, he hadn't even picked up the mannerisms most of the mechanics had.
A strangled coughing noise got Medlen's attention. He poked his head out the bathroom door -- Ross had stretched himself over most of the bed, and had his head tilted back, and the most spectacular snores were coming out. "Ross," Medlen called softly.
The snores stopped. The young man on the bed shifted, a single eye opened stickily, "Wha?"
"If you get up now, you can shower before breakfast. Or you can sleep a while more, and come to the table still whiffing like payday at a brothel. That will be amusing, and might get you some offers from the guards, but . . ."
Ross rolled and almost fell off the bed. "Shower," he declared, once he was disentangled from the bedclothes. "Breakfast."
"Good."
---
When Ross made his way to the table, there were two small children sitting with Mairyonven. "Ross, these are Serelda and Envyss. They're the youngest of my children. The other two are living with their fathers."
Fathers? Plural? Ross flushed suddenly, a question he really should have asked last night, before . . ."And your husband?"
Mairyonven thought about that for a moment. "I don't have one, not in the sense that you mean. I choose whose company I want in bed, I choose who will father my children. I have never found anyone with whom I would wish to exchange an oath as your people do. Some of our couples do. Most do not."
Ross couldn't think of anything more useful to say than "Oh" so he turned his attention to the food instead. None of it was familiar -- it all smelled wonderful, and was attractively laid out. "Where do you recommend I start eating?"
Ross found himself taking a little bit of everything. Most of it was sweeter than he cared for. Then the little boy made a nipping motion toward one of the pieces Ross had tried and was about to put, unfinished, onto his plate. "Mairyonven? I've taken a bite out of it . . ."
"If you wish, he can have it. Envyss, you were too forward. Ask Ross's forgiveness."
"Rossss." The little face was solemn, "I did a wrong thing. I am sorry. May I have your forgiveness?" He stumbled over the word. Then again, this was Envyss's second language, not his first.
"Yes, of course. Do you want the rest of the candies?" Ross didn't know if that is what they actually were, but it was something to call them.
Envyss looked over at his mother, who nodded. "Yes, please," he answered.
A piece at a time, Ross picked up samples of the different foods, tasted them, then fed the other half to Envyss. Ross was reminded of a very well behaved puppy, especially with the great dark eyes. And the wet tongue -- Envyss tended to lick the crumbs off Ross's fingers after the tidbit itself was already in his mouth.
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