The journey itself, is freedom
by Ainzfern
3
In the quiet close warmth of the master bedroom in a spacious mid-level apartment of Eos Tower, a dignified and beautiful Sapphire Elite, Laron Tak, sighed with something very close to perfect contentment as he tightened his arms around his slumbering Companion. The lights of the apartment had been extinguished at this late hour and his Furniture, Kalad, had long since sought his own bed, but the soft glow of the twin moons shining through the window were more than enough to illuminate the bedroom.
Although somewhat weary from yet another long day in his role as one of the assistant administration managers of a sub-section in the Tanagura syndicate's department of Public Works, Laron was not quite ready to slip away into repose. Certainly he was more than happy to simply lie there, holding Esra close to him while his formidable mind catalogued the events of the day.
He had always enjoyed the feeling of Esra in his arms. But now, since he had legally declared the young man his life Companion, there was an even greater comfort to be had from such a simple act.
Quite possibly, he suspected, because there was no longer any risk of Esra being taken from him.
Thus, physically relaxed and mentally serene, Laron continued to reflect upon the journey of his life so far and the point of fundamental transition that it had brought him to.
Laron had always been gifted, even over and above his genetic enhancements. This fact was one of the main reasons that the Elite had advanced so rapidly through those Syndicate ranks that were traditionally available to his caste. Those Elites who knew him well were very aware of his ability. In a lesser character, such talents, such swift advancement, might well have been cause for envy and personal derision amongst his peers. But Laron carried himself with such dignity, such genuine and unaffected resolve, that other Elites – regardless of their caste – found it very hard to dislike him. And this, in turn, made it just as difficult to deliberately attempt to undermine his achievements.
Laron did not demand attention or waste time singing his own praises. Instead, he simply got on with things in his own meticulous and proficient manner. And, so far, he had been as successful as his caste of Sapphire Elite rank would allow. Indeed, he had already managed to push just beyond that original benchmark. Six months ago, just prior to registering Esra as his Companion, Laron had secured an assistant managerial role in a larger sub-section of the department; a role that traditionally would have been held by a Platina.
A Platina just starting in the department, yes, but nevertheless, still a Platina.
This was good. Certainly it was a step in the right direction.
But, it was only the beginning, because Laron Tak was a man with ambition. Laron had a plan to succeed, to reach the pinnacle of his profession and to do it his way... by using his skills, his talents and his intelligence, and not by simply engaging in obsolete pandering to the whims and egos of higher caste Elites.
Those days were over.
Iason Mink's social reforms had made such things possible and, if Laron ever actually got the chance to converse in person with the Syndicate leader, he would thank him, humbly and with absolute sincerity.
Laron had already taken the next step in his renewed life journey. He had a role in a Platina's section, and he was doing it well. But now a project management secondment was available in the same area. A position that would allow him the opportunity to work side by side with Platinas and Blondies and take responsibility for his own team of Elite and civilian staff. Laron was capable. He knew he was capable.
He was also, just quietly, confident.
He had submitted the appropriate expression of interest earlier in the week. Now, it was just a matter of waiting until the department's head, a Blondie Elite named Kyle Li, called the interviews and made his decision. Once again, on this matter Laron was quietly confident. His work had, in times not so long past, come to Kyle's attention in a most positive light. His feedback on Laron's previous project reports had been most encouraging.
Laron smiled slightly as he carefully shifted under the soft and deep covers of the bed. Gently, he tightened his hold around his Companion's relaxed body, delighting – even after the familiarity of the previous few months had passed – in the singularly lovely warmth of Esra's naked skin pressed against his own.
Deep in his traditional but now muted Elite centre, Laron could accept that his current train of thought concerning the young ex-Pet could be considered ridiculously emotive; but he had to confess, the knowledge that Esra would be beside him as he began his ascension to the higher peaks of his profession was perhaps the fact that pleased him most of all.
Looking down through the dim light at Esra's moon-touched face, sweet and simply beautiful in its repose, Laron felt his heart swell. It was a strange sensation, he mused, stroking Esra's smooth white neck with gentle fingertips. It was, oddly, almost a painful feeling... yet it was undeniably welcome just the same. Certainly it was a reaction that he had become very used to by now, seeing as how it occurred almost every time his gaze fell upon his Companion.
Laron loved him. With the benefit of hindsight, looking clearly back into his own mind and memory, he knew he always had. From the moment Esra had come into his possession, Laron had felt something different, something new - almost like a jolt of recognition.
Esra's beauty, his gentle nature and his surprisingly astute mind had reached out to his Elite Master, even back then, and had touched something dormant and deep within the Sapphire's heart.
Laron had never bothered to justify his actions during those years, even to himself, where Esra had been concerned. After all, he had been the boy's Master. Esra had belonged to him. Thus, if Laron had not wished to share or display him beyond the bare minimum required for Amoian social convention, then who would have been so impolite as to comment? And, if he had wished to touch or even hold him... well, there had been no harm in that, had there?
Chuckling softly, even wryly, Laron relaxed and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply of the warm soft scent of his mate, allowing it to sooth him towards rest. How pleasant to know... how genuinely relieved he was, for the freedom he now enjoyed. The freedom to look back on his actions with Esra and acknowledge them for what they truly were.
Manifestations of genuine affection.
And, thus far, their arrangement as Companions was working very well. Laron smiled again, even as he felt himself drifting deeper into a relaxed state. The pair of them seemed quite well met, with undeniable fondness having already existed between them, unspoken yet real, for some time before Esra's status was upgraded. And as Esra experienced more of life and the world outside of the close confines of a Pet's existence, his conversation, his character, his very ability to relate to Laron on a more equal footing was expanding more every day. Laron was almost ridiculously proud of him; of how well he had adjusted, of how he had taken on the challenge of his new role in the household as well as his new employment.
There was one significant step in their still formative relationship, however, that Laron Tak had not yet taken, indeed was not prepared to take, at least not at this juncture.
While their interactions, as a general rule, were very affectionate... there had been no real sexual congress between them. That was not to say that Laron did not touch his mate, for without a doubt he did, thoroughly enjoying the rather divine feeling of being able to embrace and hold his young Companion whenever the desire for contact occurred. Laron had also taken to kissing with extreme alacrity and practiced conscientiously any time he could. And, knowing and appreciative of the sexual needs that often gripped young engineered male humans like Esra; understanding that Esra was not genetically pre-disposed to controlling his urges as an Elite was, Laron had quite happily adapted his evening routine to cater to Esra's sensual nature as well.
Laron knew his mate very well indeed, was adept at reading those small tell-tale signs that indicated Esra needed physical release. After all, he had been watching the young man very closely for a long time now. So, whenever Laron saw them, in an adaptation of their past closeness he would gently invite Esra onto his lap, cuddling him close and murmuring encouragement to him in his soft deep velvet voice. But it was now Laron, and not Esra, who invariably stroked the young ex-Pet to release on these occasions.
And he could quite freely admit, with no hesitation, that he enjoyed it very much. The feeling of Esra's silk-hard erection, hot and smooth and heavy in his hand; the little sounds Esra made, the transparent expression of love and fulfillment that filled his flushed face when he arched back in Laron's strong hold and shivered helplessly through his orgasm. The very fact that it was his touch, not another Pet's, not even Esra's own, that was bringing his mate such intense pleasure.
And certainly, Laron's own physical response, not only to Esra's reactions but to actually being an active participant, were far stronger than he ever recalled them being when he was simply observing his former Pets in sexual activity. But, he had had a lifetime's experience of practiced control over his reactions to stimulus such as this and, even though his intimacy with Esra was far more powerful simply because his emotions were bound up within it, he was still able to hold himself well in check.
It wasn't that he didn't want to experience the full gamut of sexual and sensual delights with his mate, because he did. Very much so. Now that there was no longer any form of social or moral taboo associated with Elites embracing their own sexuality, Laron Tak was as drawn towards, as curious about the whole process as any other red-blooded male would be.
But he wanted... no, needed, Esra to ask.
What concerned Laron was that if he were to take the initiative and simply engage in lovemaking with Esra, he would never be quite sure if Esra really wanted him to or not. He worried that Esra's prior conditioning might take over if Laron were to push the issue, and as far as the Elite was concerned, such a thing had no place in their bedroom. Laron stroking his young mate to climax regularly was one thing - that was almost just a mere extension of a foundation they had already built together.
But, to lie down together as lovers, for Laron to enter Esra's beautiful body, to move and come inside of him, expressing his love in - for an Elite - such an intimate and intensely vulnerable way... No, he needed to be certain that Esra was certain.
So, Laron was content to wait. Right now, Esra seemed very happy. He was coping admirably well with the profound changes that had occurred in his life and, from such feedback as Sami at the City Archives was prepared to share, he was also making a strongly favorable impression in his job as well. He was growing in confidence every day, so Laron felt reasonably justified in assuming that it would not be too much longer before his mate was ready to broach the subject of deepening their physical connection.
With a slow deep exhalation, Laron consciously relaxed his body and began to clear his mind of all previous thoughts. Right now, he was a very satisfied Elite, standing on the cusp of profoundly positive changes to both his professional and personal life. He nestled into Esra's warmth a little more as the sweet lassitude of sleep drifted up over him, content with the events of this day.
And tomorrow... well, he had great faith that tomorrow would take him yet another step closer to his goals.
The converted warehouse along the outskirts of the Midas spaceport that served as temporary accommodation for ex-Pets awaiting transport to Hepstra was, as always, profoundly silent at this time of night. Enif, former Pet and the man currently responsible for most of the day to day work involved in recruiting colonists to the federation mining colony, walked with almost silent footsteps through the main dormitory of the building. As he considered the quiet that surrounded him, he felt his full mouth quirk into a fleeting wry smile.
Of course it was quiet here. It was always quiet in a dorm full of ex-Pets, Enif had discovered.
Ex-Pets, especially new ones, were not given to boisterous behavior or high spirits. They tended to be withdrawn and distressed, shattered and heartbroken, not at all able to make any manner of cognizant decision; desperately needing guidance and protection.
Looking around at the sleeping forms laying here and there around the large room, Enif shook his head almost sadly.
It had to be said, an ex-Pet in the first days of abandonment was a deeply pitiful creature.
And Enif could make such an observation fairly, without any malice whatsoever. After all, he had been one himself.
Approaching one of the basic yet clean and comfortable beds that lined the dorm walls, Enif paused for a moment in his nightly routine of a dormitory walk-through to check all was well and in order. He looked down at the young man before him, locked in restless slumber. Almost absently, he reached out and moved the covers up from where the ex-Pet had kicked them down, replacing them gently over the bed's occupant once more. His expression as he did this was curiously matter of fact. He had gotten to know the kind of charges he had to look after, albeit briefly, quite well by now. He knew that, as rule, new ex-Pets tended to sleep thinly, their repose broken by bad dreams and unformed fears of the unknown.
He was used to putting covers back on restless sleepers. And, it made sense to do so. If they lay without their blankets for too long they grew chilled and woke up and would want to talk, to be consoled and reassured... and Enif had to admit, when the hour was this late, his reserves of patience were usually quite low. Generally, it was easier for everyone if they just stayed asleep.
Turning, he looked back across the dorm, noting the sound of regular deep breathing, the sounds of repose, coming from around the room and he nodded, satisfied that everyone had properly settled in.
Good. Enif's expression smoothed out in relief. He could call this one his final check for the night and retire to his apartment to get some rest of his own.
He had a total of seven souls in at the moment, two of whom were Ceres residents who had actually sought him out after contacting the black market in their section of the slums. They had arrived earlier in the day, nervous and on foot, unsure of their welcome. Enif had been able to appease their anxiety fairly quickly however. He still had Ceres mongrels arriving on a regular basis, either as singles or in little teams of two and three, so he was able to set this newest pair's minds at ease about being accepted onto the Hepstra transport.
Everyone seemed to be fully asleep now, which was fine. They would be having a very long day tomorrow, with the transport from Hepstra arriving to first offload its massive consignment of fuel supplies to the Tanagura syndicate, before returning with its seven new colonists on board.
Leaving the dorm, Enif closed and secured the door behind him, walking away from the outer section of the spaceport where the warehouses stood and heading towards a small hamlet of neat little apartments set near the main entrance of the spaceport complex. Several permanent workers at the spaceport had apartments here, along with one or two other civilians who obviously worked in offices located in the outer Midas area. And, of course, Enif's own apartment was here.
It was a nice enough place, he supposed, clean and certainly spacious enough for one person.
He didn't have much to do with his neighbors. The workers from the spaceport had become friendly enough in their own brusque way... once they'd come to realize that Enif's hours of work were at least equal to, if not significantly more, than their own. Yes, he might have been pampered and cosseted in his former life, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that Enif was no stranger to hard work. So when they saw him these days, they called out a greeting, or waved him a casual salute.
Enif appreciated it because, even though the group of workers who lived within the apartment block did not ever invite him to socialize or converse with him beyond those brief greetings, it was still actually nice to at least be acknowledged.
His other neighbors – the 'office workers', as Enif thought of them, seemed to prefer to act as though he didn't exist at all.
Apparently, he wasn't really their 'kind of person'.
With a tired smirk, Enif approached his apartment door, fishing his keys out of his pocket and letting himself in. As he shut the door behind him, locking it against the outside world, he allowed himself a deep sigh of profound relief for making it through another day.
Moving into his small kitchenette, Enif rustled up a simple sandwich and a cup of tea to suffice as his evening meal. He wasn't, admittedly, much of a cook, but he could at least feed himself these days without having to worry too much about indigestion or food poisoning. Following his supper, he grabbed a quick but hot shower, washing away some of the tension of the long day, before donning a warm robe and settling on his sofa with the laptop Chey Neeson had procured for him to add a few notes to his monthly reports.
He worked slowly, taking great care to ensure accuracy of both spelling and syntax. Reading and writing was not his strongest point but he was, he felt, getting better. His education at the Pet Academy had supplied him with the basics but, like any skill, consistent practice was embedding his abilities once more. Admittedly Riki had helped him a lot in the early days of his new career, for which he was grateful, and the dark-haired mongrel had actually been genuinely surprised by how little Enif had forgotten, considering that as a Pet followed by a factory worker in one of Katze's fabrication plants, literacy skills hadn't been high on the required talents list.
Of course, Riki hadn't known about Dian...
As always when that name came to his mind, Enif sighed deeply, ancient sorrow and regret whispering through his heart. He shifted on his sofa, turning to look out his living room window at the night's shadows, his report momentarily forgotten. His dark eyes grew wide and blank, inwardly gazing, reflecting a pain so profound, so ingrained, that one would have wonder if it could ever be washed away.
Dian. Bright and placid Dian, whose beautiful face and graceful body had simply aged beyond his Master's desires, leading to the household's Furniture choosing to sell him on to the factory. Dian, who in spite of his misfortunes still liked to laugh at the littlest things, finding pockets of joy in small moments and sharing them with Enif until he too understood what an effective survival trait such things really were.
Soft sweet Dian who toiled without complaint and accepted the cruelties that the plant manager, Maxx - and his foreman, Cain - used to dole out for no reason, and who would welcome Enif into his arms every night, making the dank cold basement of the fabrication plant a bright warm place for a few fleetingly precious moments.
Dian... who liked the sound of Enif's voice and begged him to read aloud - anything that he could find around the factory, be it machine manual or magazine. Cuddled in the small utility room that served as their space and afforded some tiny measure of privacy, a single dim lamp casting a weak light over them, Enif would read to Dian, who had never learned how, and Dian would close his eyes and smile, resting his head against Enif's shoulder.
Dian... whom he had loved and who had been taken from him because of that fact.
Almost absently, Enif lifted one hand to his forehead, his fingertips tracing the contours of the heavy scar he bore just over his left eyebrow. Heaving another slow sigh, he swallowed through the oddly painful lump in his throat and turned back to his reports.
He had made a promise to himself, the day that Riki and Katze had freed him from the virtual prison of the fabrication plant, that he would find out what had happened to Dian, where he had been taken, if he was even still alive. Deep in his heart, he doubted it, yet part of him still hoped. If Enif had believed in such things as gods, he would have prayed for it.
His own efforts to locate Dian's trail had proven ineffective and Enif had to face facts. The time had come for him to tell the story to Riki, to engage the well-connected mongrel's help in finding out what happened to his friend and lover. Taking into account Riki's friendship with Katze, the former leader dealer of the black market and incidentally one of the owners of the plant Enif had worked in, the ex-Pet was certain he would be able to get answers in pretty short order.
Being honest with himself, he had to admit that much of him was truly scared as to what those answers might entail.
He would be seeing Riki in a couple more days, with their meeting scheduled to take place here at Enif's apartment. He was glad about that, as he did prefer to conduct his business here whenever possible.
Over the years since he was discarded by his original Master, Enif had developed quite a sophisticated sense of perception, his arrogance and self-serving attitude giving way under the weight of hard toil and regular beatings for the most minor infractions. He understood what Riki was trying to do by getting him to go to Eos Tower. And he could appreciate the thought but, quite frankly, he was going to have to speak to Riki about that too. It was just too hard for him to be around Elites, any Elites – even Iason Mink.
Actually, no... Enif shook his head ruefully as he mentally amended his previous thoughts.
Especially Iason Mink. The Blondie genuinely unsettled Enif. Iason was just too tall, too pale, too beautiful, too powerful. Everything about him pushed the button inside of Enif that said 'Owner'. He couldn't help reacting to that. He knew Riki hated it... and Enif didn't blame him. He hated the way he reacted too, and he was the one doing it.
But, he just couldn't help it.
Perhaps some time in the future things would become different for him. Age and experience would possibly give him the means to face Elites and handle the feeling that arose in those circumstances. But for now...
Well, Enif would add that to the list of items to be discussed when Riki arrived for their meeting.
Pushing all other thoughts from his mind, Enif returned to his report, aiming to finish quickly so that he could seek his bed.
Just another wearying day, he smiled sadly as he worked... just another day.
In the softly-lit master bedroom of Tahna Lam's Eos Tower apartment, a slow deep groan of utter pleasure filled Chey Neeson's ears. "Oh, God...Uhhh God, Blondie..." A tender breath of words, perhaps an affirmation, perhaps even a prayer, was so deep with feeling, so rich with lust and adoration that it took his sex-addled mind a moment to realize the voice that spoke was actually his.
Lying, dazed and supine, in the middle of Tahna's bed, his skin dewed with sweat and his solid chest heaving from both exertion and ecstasy, Chey flung back his head, gripped the lean strong thighs currently straddled over his hips and vented another deep growl of gratification. With effort, he managed to keep his eyes open, pinned on the sight of Tahna, his lover and beloved, abandoning himself to the sheer feeling of riding Chey's cock, deep and slow. His beautiful feisty Elite was really working it tonight, the muscles of his long legs flexing and straining as he literally ground himself down onto Chey's erection, fucking himself towards ecstasy as he let go of any sense of self-consciousness. He tossed his pale hair back as he rode, letting it fall in a wild unruly mass around his shoulders and down his back. His huge violet eyes, darkened with sensation, stared hot and almost feral in their intensity down into Chey's face.
They had already made love once this evening prior to sharing a late meal together, robe-wrapped and nestled close on Tahna's deep plush sofa. However, their enforced separation of recent weeks had certainly told on them, and they'd barely finished their supper before touches had turned into kisses which had rapidly spiraled into renewed passion.
Now, they luxuriated in their closeness; in their ability, however briefly, to touch each other, to re-connect.
Tahna was magnificent, Chey's hazy mind chanted over and over as he felt himself being swept up in the sweet searing physicality of Tahna's efforts. He looked, the federation statesman thought, like some manner of unearthly siren, a fantastical creature of gilded porcelain, like some beautiful creation of Chey's adoring imagination. But the pleasure spiking through his flesh, the heat and the scent of his lover, the soft low sounds of Tahna's pleasure whispering in his ears, assured Chey that this was not just a fantasy, this was as real as the blood thundering through his veins.
Arching his back, thrusting upwards into the slick tight heat of Tahna's undeniably gorgeous ass, Chey was rewarded with a low soft cry of pleasure and a sudden delightful downward shove as Tahna pushed back hard onto him, the Elite's pelvis undulating in sensual slow circles as Tahna tried to wring every ounce of sensation out of the moment.
Chey felt that sweet instant, that fleeting cusp before the peak approaching rapidly and he panted harshly, fighting for some manner of control over his quickening flesh.
"Tahna..." he gasped, lifting one hand from his grip on the Elite's hip and pressing it to a smooth sweat-slicked sternum, feeling Tahna's heart pounding under his fingers. "Tahna... Let me... I need," he swallowed hard, wetting his dry throat. "On top, Blondie... I need... uhhh, deeper, love."
Tahna's eyes blazed for a moment and he nodded, hissing softly through his teeth as he lunged forward, sinking his elegant hands into Chey's hair, his powerful thighs clamping tightly around Chey's body as Chey shifted and rolled, pulling the Elite under him. He kissed Tahna deeply for an endless moment, tasting the sweet wetness of his lover's mouth with slow teasing dips of his tongue, before rearing up, hooking his Blondie's knees up over his strong forearms, pushing those long legs back to increase the penetration before beginning to thrust deep and hard into the hot clinging flesh that gripped his aching cock so sweetly.
Under him, impaled on him, Tahna moved with Chey's driving strokes, closing his splendid eyes and visibly giving himself over to the moment, every inch a golden sweat-drenched sexual animal. He began to stroke himself with utter abandonment, lost to everything but the feeling of his own hand milking the blushing length of his erection and of his lover, Chey, plunging powerfully into his body.
Chey pulled in a deep breath, releasing it with a deep wrenching cry as he felt Tahna begin to come, felt the hot channel of muscle that gripped his cock tighten with a series of sharp spasms, pulling his own peak almost forcefully out of him. As Tahna arched his long back, quivering and gasping through his climax, Chey came with a deep groan of relief and completion, releasing Tahna's legs and falling forward into his Blondie's arms, clasping him tightly as they rode out their orgasms with a series of soft sighs and low fervent words of joy and gratitude.
In the trembling aftermath, as the sweet waves of post-climactic lassitude began to wash through them both, Chey rolled once more – this time onto his back, pulling Tahna close and settling him securely in his arms, stroking the Elite's cooling skin with tender fingertips, wordlessly urging him to rest. He eased the fingers of one hand into the heavy mane of Tahna's hair, gently massaging his scalp, smiling gently when he felt his lover's body growing heavier against him.
"Feeling better?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Tahna's head.
"Mmm," Tahna sighed and nestled in a little more, reaching languidly down with one hand to pull up the rumpled covers.
Chuckling, Chey reached down to help him, smoothing the warm quilt over the both of them. He kissed Tahna's brow again, loving the closeness, the warmth. Loving the man. "Adore you, y'know."
"I know," Tahna's reply was thick with sleep. "How could you not? I am adorable." He paused for a moment, venting another soft sigh and, to Chey, this one sounded somewhat sorrowful.
Chey frowned, dropping his chin to catch a glimpse of Tahna's exquisite face. "Blondie?" he asked softly.
Tahna looked up at him, his expression oddly guarded.
"Alright," a certain no-nonsense tone entered Chey's voice. "What's wrong?"
Tahna shot him an exasperated little look from under lowered lashes, hesitating for a moment.
"And no hedging, love," Chey added for good measure. "I know you too well by now."
"Might I just state that I find that fact rather vexing?" Tahna huffed disgustedly at him, his huge eyes narrowing. "Very well... if you must know," Tahna pulled in a deep breath and lifted his chin stubbornly. "You'll be leaving the day after tomorrow."
Chey felt his expression soften, understanding filling his chest with a gentle empathy. "Ah," he murmured, tightening his arms around Tahna's warm body.
"Yes," Tahna rested his head down on Chey's shoulder once more.
"I don't like it anymore than you do, Blondie," Chey pressed his face into Tahna's hair, breathing deeply for the clean scent of it, "and I sure as hell don't want leave you, if that's any comfort."
A discontented little sigh met his remark. "It's not."
Reaching out and extinguishing the bedside lamp, Chey matched Tahna's sigh with one of his own before moving back towards his lover, wrapping his arms tightly around him once more. "No, it really isn't, is it?"
They lay silently for a while, contemplative and oddly wistful, before Chey broke the silence with an almost tentative comment. "You know... there is an obvious solution to this problem of ours."
He felt Tahna stiffen slightly against him. "I'm aware of that, Chey," the Elite replied somewhat snippily. "After all, it's a reoccurring subject in almost every blasted conversation we have these days."
Chey smiled up at the darkened ceiling. "I'm just saying..." he replied mildly.
"I know," Tahna heaved a great sigh, the warmth of his breath brushing over Chey's chest. "I know. But, Chey, I..." his silken voice trailed off.
"...Just need more time?" Chey finished for him.
There was another moment of thoughtful silence before Tahna answered, his voice a mere whisper of sound. "Yes. I do."
Chey nodded, almost ruefully, to himself. The truth was, as much as he urged and cajoled his Blondie upon this particular matter, he could never force Tahna to do anything he wasn't ready for. That their relationship had progressed to the level of affection and intimacy that they now enjoyed was certainly something that delighted and at times quite astonished the senior statesman. Yes, it was true he sincerely... actually desperately, desired Tahna Lam as his life-long mate, bound to him legally with that fact recognized under federation law, he knew that he was capable of being as enduring as stone when it came to his lover.
He had no doubt that Tahna would eventually say yes.
All he really needed to do was keep reminding himself that patience was a virtue.
"Well, Blondie?" he murmured against the smooth skin of Tahna's brow, "time, I can give you." He grinned wickedly. "Although if we manage to get the formalities completed before we have to put Nana in a box, I know she'd be grateful."
Tahna snorted gracelessly. "How inappropriate," he noted without any real rancor. "Well... I suppose I can agree to that much, at least."
"Ah. Progress," Chey hugged Tahna firmly for a moment.
"Chey?" Tahna's voice was artfully mild.
"Yes, love?"
"That's enough, now. For goodness sake, please shut up and go to sleep."
Chuckling, Chey closed his eyes and relaxed at last. "Yes, love."
The journey itself... – chapter 2 << >> The journey itself... – chapter 4