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Chapter Twenty-Two
“Father?” Fal’ran burst out as soon as the door to his and Patrick’s room shut behind them. “Serihk and Sazahk have the same father?”
Patrick pointed at the ceiling and waved his finger. “He can hear you, remember?”
“If he doesn’t want to hear himself be talked about, he shouldn’t listen.” Fal’ran had listened to Serihk’s spiel about being able to see and hear everything in the ship and, as uncomfortable as the concept was, he still couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “They’re brothers. The brother Sazahk has such a chip on his shoulder about is the Emissary Serihk. I don’t think even Bar’in saw that one coming.”
“No one saw that one coming.” Patrick walked across the opulent bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom.
“Did you know about it?” Fal’ran followed Patrick more slowly, cringing at his boots stepping onto a rug that cost more than Fal’ran’s salary. The salary Fal’ran earned as a soldier already far outstripped what he’d dreamed of growing up. He’d never seen or even imagined a ship as fancy as Emissary Serihk’s. The few hours they’d spent in the entryway, waiting for Emissary Serihk and Lar’a to return, had cured him of the fear he’d stain the ship with his mere presence, but he still felt painfully out of place. By the time Fal’ran got to the door of the spotless bathroom, Patrick was already toeing off his boots. “You knew them both separately.”
“Sure, but not intimately.” Patrick kicked his boots to the side and shrugged off his uniform jacket. “The thought never occurred to me. You almost never hear about a qesh with siblings in the first place.”
“Sazahk’s got to be the younger one, right?” Fal’ran leaned against the door frame as he mused. “All that resentment and how he gets all prickly when you coddle him.”
“Definitely the younger one,” Patrick agreed with a snort. He grabbed the edge of his shirt to sweep it off but stopped short with a pained hiss. “Shit.”
“Easy.” Fal’ran grabbed Patrick’s arms and stilled his movements. “Easy, I got it.” A mixture of blood, pus, and ointment had eased out from under the bandages over Patrick’s wounds and crusted into the shirt’s fabric. Patrick had ripped the bandages off when he’d yanked on the shirt. “These bandages are soaked through. They gotta go. It’s gonna hurt.”
“I know,” Patrick sighed from inside the shirt still pulled over his head. “Just get it over with.”
“You got it.” Fal’ran grimaced as he peeled fabric and bandage from skin, focusing on first freeing Patrick from his shirt. “What do you think Serihk did to make Sazahk hate him so much?”
“I don’t know.” Patrick’s breath hitched as Fal’ran tugged off a crusted bandage. “Serihk isn’t a bad man in my experience. But he has a reputation for heartlessness and it’s not like none of his decisions have hurt people before. I’d guess that Sazahk’s feelings aren’t unfounded.”
“No. Sazahk doesn’t seem like the hysterical type.” Fal’ran pulled off enough of the bandages to tug Patrick’s shirt off.
“But he said something to me once, when he first got here.” Patrick cocked his head as he tossed his shirt into the pile with his uniform jacket. “He said he was joining up because the Senate promised him a pardon. I didn’t know what he needed the pardon for, but I didn’t think about it, because I kind of had my hands full.”
“With a bunch of recruits who wanted nothing to do with you?” Fal’ran grinned crookedly as he remembered their squad’s former dysfunction. They’d been at each other’s throats instead of each other’s backs.
“Oh, I don’t know. There was one recruit who definitely wanted something to do with me.” Patrick dug the tip of his elbow into Fal’ran’s ribs.
Fal’ran laughed and caught Patrick’s elbow, drawing him closer. “And I still do.”
Patrick blushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, well, let’s talk about that after we shower.”
Fal’ran wanted a hot shower too badly to protest. The layers of dirt and sweat and fear and adrenaline caked into his skin were too thick to contemplate. So, he nosed into Patrick’s temple and kissed his cheek before letting him go and taking off his own shirt. “If Sazahk needs a pardon, maybe he really did do something.”
“Like you said, Sazahk doesn’t have a bad bone in his body, but…” Patrick shrugged as he peeled off his last bandage.
“But you don’t have to be malicious to fuck up real bad,” Fal’ran finished for him and shoved his pants and underwear down to his ankles.
“Exactly, and you never—” Patrick looked up from ripping off his last bandage and froze with his eyes on Fal’ran.
A slow grin spread over Fal’ran’s face, and he placed his hands on his bare hips. The way Patrick looked at him never got old. The way he licked his lips, as though barely restraining a hunger he wasn’t sure he was allowed to indulge. Just feeling those blue eyes on his body made Fal’ran’s cock plump.
“Um,” Patrick’s face flushed, and he shook his head, averting his eyes and focusing on undoing his own pants. “Um, you never know with Sazahk what might have seemed reasonable to him that didn’t to the Senate.”
“Hey, Patrick?” Fal’ran stalked closer and batted Patrick’s trembling hands away from his pants button. “Can we stop talking about Sazahk now?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.” Patrick let Fal’ran undo his pants, his cock already tenting out the front of them. “What do you want to talk about?”
Fal’ran smirked. “I don’t really want to talk at all.”
He cupped the back of Patrick’s head and pulled him in for a kiss.
Patrick responded immediately, his soft lips parting and his tongue darting out. He still tasted sweet, even after the week they’d had, and Fal’ran groaned and hauled him closer. He moved to push him up against a wall when his hand strayed to Patrick’s hip, brushing raw flesh, and Patrick’s body spasmed with pain.
