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“Faster! Now!” Patrick’s order echoed across the dome as Fal’ran started the straightaway and Patrick saw the flash of his orange eyes when he lifted his head. “Push, Fal’ran.”
And he did. He sprinted down the track even when Patrick knew every inch of his body burned with the effort. When his vision closed in, when his muscles cramped, he pushed harder.
Fal’ran would go further than Patrick could go with him, and Patrick wouldn’t hold Fal’ran back for himself. But Patrick could be a stepping stone. A rung on a ladder. Patrick could help him, would help him, if it was the last useful thing Patrick ever did. And he’d be damn grateful for the opportunity.
When Fal’ran reached him, Patrick held up his hand. “Enough.”
Fal’ran’s body collapsed, but his momentum kept him stumbling forward.
“I’ve got you.” Patrick caught him before he hit the ground, looping his arms under Fal’ran’s shoulders and bracing him against his chest. “Breath for me.”
Fal’ran gasped and wheezed as Patrick held the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth and twisted open the canister. His body heat burned into Patrick and his sweaty skin slid under Patrick’s palms, but Patrick kept his grip on him.
“There you go.” Patrick helped Fal’ran find his feet enough for Patrick to slip an arm around his back. “Lean on me. Keep moving.”
Fal’ran gave Patrick his weight, his eyes closed, one hand clutching the mask to his face. He shuffled his feet as Patrick walked them along the bend in the track.
“Just a little cooldown. Not much farther.” Patrick didn’t want Fal’ran’s body pushing that hard into a dead stop. “You’re doing good.”
The smell of Fal’ran’s musk filled Patrick’s nose and sent tingles down to his toes. His powerful frame shook against Patrick’s body and his eyes scrunched closed as he gasped great gulps of oxygen.
Patrick palmed his side. “Just a little farther.”
He half-carried Fal’ran to the nose of the ship and around the bank of supplies closets. With the breathtaking view of Qesha and its two neighboring planets before them, Patrick leaned his back against the metal of the closet and slid down to sit, guiding Fal’ran down in front of him. Fal’ran fell against him, his back to Patrick’s chest.
“Just breath.” Patrick cradled the younger man between his thighs and reached around him to hold the mask up to his face. Fal’ran made a grateful sound and draped his arm over Patrick’s thigh. “That’s right.”
After a few minutes, Fal’ran’s breathing slowed, and he settled against Patrick’s chest. He tugged on Patrick’s elbow.
“Feeling better?” Patrick set the oxygen aside and laid his hands on Fal’ran’s arms, soothing his thumbs over his slick skin.
Fal’ran dropped his head back onto Patrick’s shoulder. “After the oxygen or the run?”
Patrick licked his lips as Fal’ran exposed his throat and diverted his eyes to Fal’ran’s covered shoulder. “Both.”
“Better.” Fal’ran’s stronger fingers squeezing Patrick’s knee. “Thank you.”
“For the oxygen or the run?”
“Both.” Fal’ran squeezed Patrick’s knee a few more times, his eyes searching across the stars, before they tightened. He sat up and pulled his hands into his lap. “The team told me what you did for me.”
Patrick resisted the urge to wrap his arms around Fal’ran’s waist and pull him back into his chest. He contented himself with the contact of his thighs around Fal’ran’s hips. “With General Yal’rest?”
“Yeah.” Fal’ran hunched over his knees.
Patrick bit his lip as he tried to figure out what to say in this situation. He wished he could curl himself around this man and hold all the bad feelings at bay.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve already apologized.” Patrick placed his hand on the nape of Fal’ran’s neck. “And you’ve already been forgiven.”
“I apologized for blowing myself up. I didn’t apologize for—” Fal’ran twitched his head at Patrick. “I cost you your career.”
“Yal’rest cost me my career, not you.” Patrick slid his hand from Fal’ran’s neck to his jaw and turned it to face him. He leaned around to look Fal’ran in the eye. “I wouldn’t let him make an example of you. I protect my men, Fal’ran.”
Fal’ran’s nostrils flared, and Patrick winced at the thought of what Fal’ran might smell. More than Patrick wanted to tell him, no doubt. But he didn’t restrain his scent. He wouldn’t hide from or lie to Fal’ran anymore. He'd hurt him by doing that and if someone had to get hurt, Patrick would rather it be himself.
“Besides,” Patrick continued when the moment dragged on, Fal’ran searching his face with inscrutable eyes. “Who says my career’s over? I’ve had superiors hate me before and they didn’t end me.” When Fal’ran’s shoulders loosened, Patrick tugged him with his thighs.
