::Who disputes?::
Liam wasn’t sure if he heard the challenge with his ears or his mind, but the primitive, caveman-esque flavor words were easy to understand.
In another stomach-churning shift of emotion, Liam was pissed. Righteously pissed. Fucker! The “If I can’t have you, no one will” game? Bullshit!
He tried to drop his hands, only to discover an unpleasant reality. The handlebars had adhered to his skin. He shook his hands, but nothing happened, other than the metal sang a protest.
He jerked his hands…then jerked harder when the bars went with his hands instead of separating. His next gambit was to lunge backward in an attempt to use his weight and inertia to force his hands free. That’s when he bounced against a rock-solid frame.
Micro lightning zapped along the pathways of his skin. He knew that body. He would know this body and the Urilqii it belonged to even if he was dead.
“Liam.” It was said in Mike’s soothing voice. It offered a moment of calm, a moment of peace.
Liam shrugged it away. It was a lie .
Behind him, Mike gave a quiet grunt. Of surprise?
“Fuck you,” Liam snapped. “You said no. You closed that window. Twice.”
He battled again with the handlebars and, again, lost. The damned things were stuck tight. Liam gave a final yank, more to demonstrate his temper than with any hopes of forcing his release.
The tethers sang, a bright harmony to the low murmurs of voices.
Pissed, Liam glanced over his shoulder. Mike stood there, shirt off, a magnificent display of muscles, tattoo, and intensity.
While his face could have been carved of stone, what Liam saw cooled his temper. He saw the truth of Mike, hidden from many, hidden from, perhaps, himself.
He saw fear.
Suddenly, it all made tragic sense. The lack of participation in the festival at their first meeting, the constant yo-yoing of his interest, the silence between them since Liam’s full immersion, the “closed window” thing, the situation happening now.
They all spoke of one thing. They spoke of grief. Mike had been badly hurt and didn’t want to be hurt again. In fact, he was doing everything he knew how to do in order to protect himself emotionally.
Steve’s words whispered through his memory. He needs you more than he will ever admit.
Liam’s heart turned over inside his chest and broke wide open with a tidal wave of compassion, grief, and the urge to somehow heal Mike’s pain.
::Ah, babe. What happened?::
Mike gave no answer, other than to move against Liam, and the contact flashed across his awareness like a thunderbolt. He heard his own voice in a raw cry of pleasure. Heat, fire, intensity, a slam of pressure, all was there in an instant.
All so fucking good. Liam stumbled slightly as Mike used his gorgeous body to urge him back to his former position on the platform Liam saw Dylan in the crowd. The guy smiled. No sour grapes? But why would there be? The cabal was a blend of empathic hearts.
Mike wrapped his arms around him from behind and licked the small curve of his trapezius muscle at the nape of his neck. Liam shuddered from the pleasure. He tightened his grip on the handlebars.
The light from the platform’s machine blazed an impossible white.
Mike didn’t take hold of the handlebars. Instead, he took hold of Liam’s forearm and wrapped his other hand around Liam’s cock. A tornado of sensation swirled around Liam. He closed his eyes and embraced the storm.
Lights danced behind his closed eyes, like the dance of a sparkler through the air. Without a second thought, he arched his hips forward and pushed into the luscious grip of Mike’s hand.
The wordless request was understood and answered.
Mike pumped his cock, a slow and languid journey from glans to cock base and back again. “Liam…”
The scent in the air…mind spinning…lush and gorgeous, like Mike…all Mike. Liam pried open his eyes and fixed his gaze on Mike’s hand as it stroked his cock.
A tiny spill of pre-cum leaked from the small slit at the top.
Mike passed an open palm across the cock tip, glazing it with the translucent cream and sent his hand down the shaft again.
::Yes…yes…::
Mike released Liam’s forearm and reached for his handhold on the top set, but paused. He hesitated, dropped his hand away from the grip and hugged Liam with that same arm.
It wasn’t Liam who shuddered; it was Mike. He pressed against Liam’s ass, rocking that thick rod between Liam’s ass cheeks, starting a tempo that teased and tempted the sensitive portal there.
Liam’s mind swam. ::So good. So good. So— Wait! You hurt me!::
Regret splashed through him, and he knew it was Mike’s.
Hard on the heels of that, an image flickered through his mind.
A face, inside a space helmet, a cracked helmet, air pressure minimizing, the face—beloved adnama— mouthing words. “Live for me.”
A desperate, futile prayer for someone to save his adnama followed. Heartbreak and loss. Pain. So much pain. Liam’s throat closed around a hard knot of unshed tears.
::Ah, babe.::
Mike’s voice was a whisper in his ear. “Forgive me?”
Was there really any other choice? He rolled his head back and rested it on Mike’s shoulder, baring his throat and his heart to God and everybody on this planet.
::Yes.::
This time, there was no hesitation. Mike flicked his hand from Liam’s waist and clamped it around the handlebar. A rainbow of lights erupted, in colors impossible to describe.
Shocking blues, bleeding reds, a violet deeper than the night sky. The white of his touch transformed into a gold so brilliant he carried the after-image in his eyes when he blinked from the intensity.
The Urilqii howled their delight.
They surged into motion and danced.
With just one touch, Mike had made all those changes?
::We did it. Together.::
* * *
Now it was time to complete the ritual. Now was time to ensure that he and Liam would know each other at a precious, permanent cellular and emotional level. And yes, he wanted it. Mike wanted Liam with a desperate fire.
The machine didn’t lie, and now everyone knew it.
Now
