It didn’t escape him that his would be the—what?—third discussion he’d had with him clothed and Liam naked. A pattern developed, no? They’d probably better figure out how to have a conversation without Liam’s nakedness, although Mike wasn’t opposed to a naked Liam.
He dropped the garment back to the floor and managed two steps toward the showers before his attention was snagged by the sight of something odd among the folds of the blanket.
White. Pieces. Torn from the whole. Writing on one side…his.
Liam had torn the note he’d left him? Why? Suddenly, understanding landed in his thick skull. Liam had lost confidence in them? Why the… Suddenly he understood that also.
Absence the day after bonding wasn’t the norm because it often created unease in the newly-bonded couple. Unfortunately, the Targolt’s proximity had required an emergency trans-cabal conference. He’d been pulled into it because he was his people’s “patient zero” when it came to Project Embedment.
Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, he had delayed coming back to Liam at the party to add the announcement to his arm. It was necessary for him, but an unknown to Liam. He’d done what was right for his needs without a thought about Liam’s unfamiliarity with his culture.
I’m such an asshole.
The shower continued to run. Mike knelt and worked his boots off his feet. His socks followed, then his trousers and shorts.
Naked, he headed for the showers for an uncomfortable but healing conversation with his adnama.
The least he could do was wear his own vulnerability.
* * *
Liam loved one truth about showers on the Urilqii base. The fact that warm water flowed without cooling. He didn’t know how they did it, maybe he didn’t want to know, but damn it was good not to worry about the water going cold.
He stood beneath the showerhead and turned his face into the stream. He could stay there for as long as he wanted, using the water to warm his body and soul. It also washed away his tears. At the very least, it hid them. Not that it matters, he reminded himself.
He was alone.
Then he wasn’t.
A rush of heat rolled around him, heightening his senses, lighting sparklers across his skin and surrounding him with anticipation. Cinnamon wafted on the moistened air. He didn’t need to look. The way his heart leapt told him who arrived. Mike.
“Go away,” he ordered, without looking around.
Liam grabbed for the soap and began to lather himself. A wave of heat flowed through his veins and down into his cock. The unruly piece of himself twitched and lengthened, filling with what felt like lava.
It didn’t hurt, though, despite the intensity. In fact, it felt indecently good.
No.
He raised his face to the water again and let it patter against his face for a long moment. Then he shifted position so his face wasn’t under the stream and shook the water from his head, like a wet dog after a hosing. He glanced at his rampant cock and sighed his regret.
Helluva rager. Maybe the water could beat down his unwanted arousal? He dialed for cold. The temperature shifted, but the state of his dick didn’t.
Mike traced a fingertip along the line of his shoulder. Lightning sizzled at the touch, as it always did, and zapped along his nerves to lodge inside his mind and balls like a kernel of fire.
He swallowed a moan. Christ, how could this be wrong? But it was.
“Go away,” he repeated.
“Liam?”
Mike’s whiskey-dark voice tickled across his hearing and summoned a shiver. He gasped from the intense, mind-numbing tremble that wracked him. What did he feel? His hunger or Mike’s? No matter. It couldn’t happen again.
Liam pivoted, which put him back beneath the showerhead.
The water’s fall slewed onto his shoulders and traveled down his chest and back. Streams of soap streaked his chest like rivers of milk. He blinked the drops from his eyelashes and licked them from his lips.
Mike stood there, in all his glory, all his naked glory. Christ on whole wheat bread. Splashback from the shower damped his skin.
The alien camel spider on his right pectoral had darkened beneath the moistening.
Transparent drops of water eased down the pale skin on its journey across each plateau and valley of muscle that carved Mike’s torso. Some continued down those epic, outstanding legs.
Some vanished into the nest of hair that sprang from his crotch.
Those were the water drops that held his attention.
Okay, so it was the rod of sexual intention jutting from Mike’s groin that demanded Liam’s attention. So, sue him.
Wait…no. Dammit, no.
“Adnama, tell me why you hurt.”
Mike reached a hand to touch his face.
Liam slapped the hand away and shouted, “I told you to go away.”
Concern and confusion shifted between them, but Mike didn’t move. Ignored? Again? Goddammit!
“Get the fuck away from me!”
He stepped close to Mike and slammed his hands onto Mike’s shoulders to get him moving. Pain jolted through his elbows and deltoids. Mike was like a slab of sun-warmed marble.
Heavy-gravity native, he reminded himself too late. His palms stung with the same fire he’d felt that time he’d slipped in the kitchen and slapped the counter on the way down.
While it was true Liam couldn’t force a shift of position, Mike could move with uncanny speed when he chose it.
He chose to.
In the next heartbeat, Liam’s back thumped against the shower wall. Mike had manacled his wrists with his hands and pinned them against the same wet tile. Elbows bent, his knuckles smarting from the sudden contact, Liam glared into Mike’s eyes.
This close to each other, intimate contact was inevitable.
Mike’s unbound erection brushed his. Apparently, the cold water spilling over them hadn’t abated his boner either. Something liquid and erotic shifted between them.
Hot, hot, hot!
He thrust the thought aside and evaluated the situation. A physical confrontation was moronic. Mike was simply too strong.
So, what was he supposed to do? Kick
