AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s been good for you.” Fal’ran got his teasing tone back as he rolled off Patrick’s body.
“It wasn’t at first.” Patrick levered himself to sitting, going slow so as not to jostle any congealing cum onto his sheets. “It was terrible for me.”
“Only because you fought it.” Fal’ran climbed over him in the tight quarters of the bed nook and went to the bathroom. “It would have been good a lot sooner if you hadn’t.”
“You weren’t even interested at first,” Patrick called after him. “You were just a cocky kid that wanted me out of your way.”
“Until I smelled you during that sparring match.” Fal’ran returned with a wet towel and handed it to Patrick. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the bed with a shit-eating smirk. “Then I was a cocky kid who wanted into your pants.”
Patrick snorted a laugh and looked down at his chest and stomach, both to clean them off and to hide the way his heart wrenched. Fal’ran had pushed him into confessing he cared for him. And Patrick was glad he’d said it because he hated secrets, but…Fal’ran had confessed nothing back.
Which was fine. Better than fine. If Fal’ran had a fraction of Patrick’s feelings, then Patrick wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. Fal’ran had more ahead of him. So much more than whatever Patrick could give him.
Fal’ran needed someone to believe in him. He needed someone to push him and remind him of his worthiness. Patrick could be that. And he could let him go afterwards. Patrick was good at doing the right thing.
“Is this the part where you remind me it’s after curfew?” Fal’ran’s dour voice pulled Patrick’s head up. The young man’s expression had closed off. A fond smile pulled at the corner of Patrick’s lips. So young and arrogant and insecure.
“It is, yes.” Patrick pulled Fal’ran into the bed before his brows descended thunderously over his gorgeous eyes. “You can’t be out and about at this time of night. You’ll have to stay here.”
“Oh good. I might finally get a full night’s sleep.” Fal’ran crawled over Patrick’s body, plucking the dirty towel out of his hands. “Do you have any idea how bad Tar snores?” He tossed the towel onto the floor. “Sazahk should try to fix that instead of his sense of smell.”
“Don’t be mean to your teammates.” Patrick swatted his side, but his chastising gesture lost all credibility when he failed to pull his hand off Fal’ran’s warm skin afterwards.
“Then again, there are so many better ways to spend our time than sleeping.” Fal’ran nosed under Patrick’s jaw. Patrick laughed and pushed him off and onto the side of the bed against the wall.
“Not at my age, there aren’t.” He wriggled down to lie on his back. He didn’t bother with the covers, still hot from their earlier exertions. “Not at your age either, come to think of it. Sleep’s important.”
“Sleep is a chore.” Fal’ran tucked an arm under his head, utterly comfortable in his nakedness and looking sinfully good.
“An important one.” Patrick debated with himself, before deciding if he was going to let them have this, he was going to have all of it. He turned onto his side and draped an arm over Fal’ran’s stomach, nestling in against him.
Fal’ran reacted instantly, a pleased growl building in his throat as he turned his head to bury his nose in Patrick’s hair. “If you say so.”
The giddy, fuzzy pleasure of cuddling with a man he adored faded when the back of Patrick’s neck prickled with anxiety. His brow furrowed, and he closed his eyes against it. He’d miscalculated.
“What’s wrong?” Fal’ran always knew, didn’t he? Patrick wasn’t sure if his body language gave him away, his smell, or if Fal’ran paid attention to him like no one else ever had.
“I’m sorry, it’s the door.” Patrick gave in and rolled onto his other side, facing the entrance. “I can’t sleep with my back to it, too many—” flashes of muzzles, explosions, knives, and Tava flashed before his eyes “—memories.”
For a beat, Fal’ran didn’t say or do anything, and Patrick cringed at his own brokenness. Then Fal’ran hummed in understanding, wrapped an arm around his waist, and spooned around him.
“I’m sorry.” Patrick relaxed into Fal’ran’s hold.
“Don’t be.” Fal’ran nuzzled the nape of Patrick’s neck. “I’ve got your back now.”
The last of the tension in Patrick’s body drained out. He gripped the hand Fal’ran had over his stomach, tangling their fingers together. He believed Fal’ran. It made his eyes sting. He’d never considered himself lonely. Loneliness was for sad people who didn’t try hard enough, and he’d always had friends, but…Fal’ran holding him close and telling him he had his back was something else.
“And I’ve got yours,” he murmured, squeezing Fal’ran’s fingers.
Fal’ran pressed his lips to the top of Patrick’s spine. “I know.”
Chapter Sixteen
The next two weeks were the most boring and the most exhilarating of Fal’ran’s life.
Every day brought fresh reports of Insect attacks at seemingly random times and locations throughout the Qeshian system. More of the Soldiers, as they’d come to be known, arrived at every encounter. They were bigger, stronger Insects with no graceful antennae but thicker armor and monstrous mandibles framing their jaws. If their pincers, shining with poison, closed around a vehicle, it sizzled down to nothingness in seconds. But the Insects never took or held any locations. They struck and disappeared.
Faster and sneakier Qeshian ships had chased and tailed retreating Insect ships through the system. But the Insects always shook them off or shot them down before leading them anywhere. And not another Qeshian sleeper agent infiltrated an Insect ship.
