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“Holy fuck, no!” Garin peeled into laughter and twisted away, batting the tentacles aside. “That’s cheating. That’s terrible.”
Sazahk laughed and relented as Garin ran from him. “But effective.”
Garin chuckled and rubbed his ribs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been tickled. It might have been when his father was still alive. “I’ll get you back when you’re least expecting it.” Garin pointed at him ominously as he backed into the attached bathroom.
“You are certainly invited to try.” Sazahk left the bed and followed him. “Qesh aren’t prone to ticklishness, but I’ve never conducted an experiment on myself.”
“You can’t tickle yourself, anyway.” Garin wet a towel and tossed it to Sazahk, then started wetting another for himself.
“That’s true. It’s one of the most curious facets of the phenomenon.” Sazahk wiped himself clean, then tossed the towel into a corner.
“Aw man, I just realized I don’t have any clothes here, do I?” Garin tossed his own towel in the corner with Sazahk’s, even though he hated to leave them on the floor. He’d have to buy Sazahk a hamper.
“No, but I would like if you kept some here.” Sazahk tangled his fingers together as they shimmered with brown and red. “I am aware that implies a significant level of commitment to a relationship, but it is what I would like.”
“I would like that too.” Garin untangled Sazahk’s fingers and pressed them to his lips. “I just mean that for this morning, I have to do a walk of shame in my suit.”
Sazahk’s mouth curled into a devilish smile, and he sauntered back into the bedroom. “Maybe you’ll run into your redhead.”
Garin guffawed and followed him. “Maybe I will, but I wouldn’t notice because I don’t even remember what he looked like.”
“I do.” Sazahk opened the wardrobe on the side of the room and revealed a set of hanging robes almost certainly picked out by his brother.
Garin smiled and crossed his arms as he watched him. “I never took you as the jealous type, Sazahk.”
“I’m not.” Sazahk dug through the wardrobe with quick sharp movements that revealed how much he disliked what he found there. “Or at least I wasn’t. I’m not in the general case. My feelings for you continue to defy expectations.”
Garin blushed. He’d never get tired of hearing Sazahk talk about him like that.
“Aha!” Sazahk yanked open a drawer and pulled out a pair of pants.
Garin shook his head and wandered into the hallway, looking for his own pants. He’d been surprised to see a qesh without robes the first time he’d seen Sazahk, but now he couldn’t imagine him in anything that didn’t hug his narrow hips. Except for those glorious gold robes.
Garin looked around the ship as he walked, able to see it now the haze of lust covering his eyes had cleared. It was far too fancy for Sazahk to have picked it out, but it matched Garin’s understanding of his brother, Serihk. Garin liked it, he decided. Sazahk deserved nice things, even if he’d never choose them for himself.
Garin passed the lab and poked his head in, finding it spick and span. He doubted it would stay that way when Sazahk got his hands on it. Then he passed the kitchen—the source of the oil they’d desperately needed the night before—which was in a similar state of tidiness.
Eventually, he made it to the entryway and the least tidy of all the rooms, due to the clothes spread out across the floor. He gave up his underwear for lost, finding them way too encrusted with pre-cum for him to fathom putting them back on. Instead, he went straight for his pants, wrinkling his nose at the stiff fabric on his bare skin.
He nearly ripped his zipper as a loud bang shook the wall beside him.
“Knock knock, anybody home?” Patrick’s muffled voice rang out from the other side of the gangway.
“Shit.” Garin quickly gathered his clothes, his pants still hanging half-undone, as the gangway hissed open. He ducked into Sazahk’s room just as he heard footsteps coming up the ramp. “You didn’t tell me they were right there.”
“I told you they were coming.” Sazahk touched his shoulder as he passed to welcome his guests.
Garin cringed as he did up his pants and shirt in the bathroom. There was nothing for it. It wasn’t like Squad M couldn’t guess for themselves where he’d spent the night. He splashed some water on his face and checked his hair in the mirror before venturing out into the entryway.
“Well, good morning there, tight ass,” Bar’in grinned like a feral cat at Garin, his hands on his hips.
“Something tells me that name’s not so accurate right now, Bar’in.” Fal’ran’s lips curled around his tusks and Garin’s face heated unbearably.
“And good morning to you all as well.” He stuck his hands in his pockets with a casualness he knew no one bought.
“All right, you teased him, now be nice.” Patrick crested the gangway carrying a big box. Tar followed behind him with an even bigger one.
Fal’ran’s grin softened, and he unslung a duffel from around his shoulder and handed it to Garin. “We thought you might want these.”
