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Oliver gasped and sped up his hips, rocking himself between Mal’ik’s body and his finger at Oliver’s hole. He writhed and whined until he finally cried out against Mal’ik’s mouth and his cock twitched hard between them, his rim spasming under Mal’ik’s finger.
Any spend was washed away quickly in the water, and Oliver dropped his head against Mal’ik’s shoulder with a little laugh.
“Okay, now the sex is over.” He lifted his head up with a grin.
Mal’ik shook his head with a laugh. “Youth.”
He let Oliver step out of his arm, and they both turned their attention to cleaning off the spit, sweat, and semen from their activities. Most of their attention, at least. Washing interspersed with more kisses, pets, and teasing touches.
When they eventually turned off the shower, Mal’ik grabbed them fresh towels, and Oliver took his with a smile. He toweled his hair and smirked when he caught Mal’ik unable to tear his eyes away from the water droplets dripping over Oliver’s collarbone. Then he wrapped the towel around his waist and something loosened in Mal’ik’s chest.
The towel Oliver had around his waist was more threadbare, and his skin was paler with a few angry red scrapes standing out in stark relief, but otherwise, he looked just as he had that morning. Clean and smelling of sunshine, with an undercurrent of anxiety.
Without waiting for Mal’ik, Oliver opened the door and stepped out into the bedroom. Mal’ik grabbed his arm off the counter, reattached it, biting down on the hiss of pain, and then followed Oliver into the room to see him looking around with his sharp hazel eyes. “So these are your rooms, then? You live here?”
“Yes.” Mal’ik watched as Oliver wandered along the perimeter, investigating the dull, mostly bare walls and the shelves with old training manuals and pictures of old comrades. There were many old things in these rooms, including himself, and Mal’ik felt the weight of his age in the ache of his stump and the youth of Oliver. He pushed the feeling away and let the warmth of Oliver’s obvious affection fill the space instead.
Oliver stopped in front of one particular picture and cocked his head at it. “Is that you and Patrick?”
“Yes.” From back when Mal’ik still had both his arms.
Oliver leaned forward and squinted at it. “And is that woman Emissary Serihk’s bodyguard?”
“Yes. We’ve been friends for many years.”
“Did she get out?” Oliver turned toward him quickly. “I didn’t see her or Serihk or Harrison after the explosion.”
“I don’t know,” Mal’ik admitted.
Oliver frowned. “Are you worried?”
“Yes.” But Mal’ik had been worried about friends for most of his life. He didn’t feel it the same way anymore. If Lar’a was lost, he would grieve, but not before. Oliver frowned at him harder for a second, and Mal’ik caught a whiff of confusion. Oliver turned to continue his patrol but then swung back around.
“Harrison’s daughter,” he said. “She wasn’t on the ship, but there were other explosions. Do you know if she’s okay?”
Mal’ik shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
Oliver scrubbed his hand over his face and sat down heavily on the bed. He lifted his face, hand dragging down it to cover his mouth, and he shook his head. “Fuck.” He looked up at Mal’ik. “What the fuck just happened, Mal’ik? What do we know?”
The last bit of lingering pleasure drained out of Mal’ik’s body. It was time to face reality and leave the hidden nest of pleasure they had built around themselves. He set his towel aside and went to his drawers to pull out clean clothes.
“We know it was a torvar.” He pulled on his pants and shirt and turned around as he started doing them up. “We are almost certain it was the Resistance. We know we caught the torvar wearing Governor Tesh.”
Oliver let out an almost delirious snort. “Does it reflect poorly on me that I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see infected with a brain-eating parasite than Governor Tesh?”
Mal’ik smiled crookedly and felt his scars pull as he walked to his bedside table and picked up his data tablet. “Or poorly on Governor Tesh.” He started glancing through the messages from Patrick. “None of the explosions were near the training grounds. If Astrid went there, she should be okay.”
Oliver let out a breath and dropped his head back. “That’s a relief.”
Mal’ik flicked slowly through the information from Patrick. It was the only relief. “There were five bombs. Two to take out the communication towers, two to take out as many government leaders as possible, and one to take out Serihk—or you.”
Oliver pressed his palms over his eyes. “Shit. Death toll?”
“Still counting.”
“You said two to take out as many leaders as possible?”
“One seems to have been placed under the table of a large meeting.”
