Service to the State: A literary seduction

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  About the Author

  About Carnation Books

  Service to the State © 2019 Starlight Barque

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-948272-21-6

  Published 2019 by Carnation Books

  CarnationBooks.com

  contact@carnationbooks.com

  Seattle, WA, USA

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Service to the State

  A literary seduction

  Starlight Barque

  Big thanks go to Colleen and Lee from Carnation Books, as well as my fabulous editor Genevieve Hammang. A special thanks to Cyrelia J, whose awesome prompt and invaluable feedback gave rise to this story, and Storm Caywood, whose insights and memories of 7th grade bible study inspired the final chapter.

  Chapter One

  Earth, 2190

  It began innocently enough.

  Galen Jayr and Navojan were having their usual lunch at the ELI cafe, just outside the hospital. Crowds gathered around the TVs, talking loudly and enthusiastically. Videos played on every screen, the displays ranging from local sporting events to the latest news on the refugees from the Pacific Northwest. Anchorage was one of the few cities in the US that was still habitable after the onset of the melting polar ice caps. It was early July on Earth and Galen had a hard time taking his eyes off the screen.

  The local news was doing a spot on the Tour de France. Galen watched wistfully. He’d cycled seriously in his youth, competing and touring the countryside before medical school and relief efforts contrived to consume all his time and resources. He missed the fresh air, the thrill, and mostly, the quiet. Still, Galen watched with pride as the race began in his hometown of Dublin. Ireland was beautiful this time of year.

  Along with most of Europe, France was in a state of emergency and had been for decades. Unlike the US, countries in the EU had taken a proactive stance, investing in infrastructure and clean energy sources and working with environmentalists to reshape the landscape. Paris looked nothing like it had 50 years ago, but it had survived and the prestigious race continued, serving as a symbol of the endurance of French culture.

  Galen’s reveries were interrupted as Navojan approached the table, his light blue shirt accentuating the curves of his back in profile, and his round, firm bottom perfectly captured in tight jeans. The sight always set Galen’s pulse racing. Nav sat across from him, his large frame constrained a bit in the small leather seats of the booth, burly thighs spilling into the aisle. Galen was always tempted to run his fingers over them through the soft fabric or give them a squeeze. Navojan’s legs were smooth and hairless and despite his chubby thighs, the skin on them was paper-thin and very sensitive. In contrast to the rest of his body, his calves were a light shade of red even at rest.

  The grayish tint of Nav’s skin blended in just enough for him to pass as human, and he held his long, thin tongue carefully in check. Once or twice he’d dropped his guard around Galen and let it dart out, sparking delicious images of the places it could access. Underneath the high collar of his shirt, Galen knew, were thick, meaty ridges that spread down his hairless chest, a small, tight stomach adorned with scales that darkened when stimulated, and further down, a short tail with sharp quills he kept shaved so the points wouldn’t stab his ass cheeks.

  Galen smiled. The first time he'd admitted that, his friend had blushed so bright his skin turned almost violet.

  Navojan’s eyes were an unusual shade of blue, almost purple, but the difference was slight enough for most people to assume it was a trick of the light. His face bore what appeared to be massive scarring, but his eyes smiled as he joined Galen.

  Forcing his attention away from the vids, Galen leaned closer to Nav to hear his next words over the din and laughed. Nav was clearly a bit dubious about Galen’s insistence that he try sushi, even as Galen began to scarf down his own share.

  “So I actually found myself enjoying the tragedy you recommended last week,” Galen said between bites. “It had just the right dramatic flair. I loved the way it showed the protagonist unraveling after...”

  Galen trailed off at Navojan’s puzzled expression. “Did we read the same play?” his friend asked. “What made you decide it was a tragedy?”

  It was Galen’s turn to be confused.

  “It has all the characteristics of a Greek tragedy. The battle between good and evil, the internal struggle of the lead character, the disastrous and pointless destruction at the conclusion. What would you call it? A comedy?”

  Navojan paused meaningfully, and Galen said heatedly, “You’ve got to be kidding. Everyone dies at the end! How is that a comedy?”

  Nav hid a smile as he feigned patience.

  “It symbolizes the folly of life and celebrates the breaking free of societal preconceptions.”

  Galen spluttered incredulously until he noticed Nav stifling an outburst of laughter.

  “You idiot,” he said affectionately. “That wasn’t funny, you know?”

  “I beg to differ,” said Nav. “We’ve already established your inability to recognize good comedy.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Galen, refusing to rise to the bait. “There was a comedy I wanted you to read. I thought you’d enjoy The Taming of the Shrew.”

  “Already read it,” said Nav without missing a beat. “Anyway, I hate Shakespeare.”

  Galen started in surprise.

  “Wait, really? You didn’t seem to mind reading The Tempest.”

  Nav nodded a bit sheepishly, saying, “It wasn’t awful, but really, most of his works? The dialogue is banal, the plots are formulaic and dull, and the characters are just tedious and absurd.”

  Galen couldn’t believe his opinionated friend hadn’t said a word about this before. He threw up his hands in despair. “A heathen. I’ve befriended a complete oaf. How can you come from such cultured stock and still hate the classics?”

  Nav shook his head in exasperation and moved his head closer to Galen’s, lowering his voice so they were not overheard.

  “My mother taught Milosian classics. She would never read the drivel that passes for literature here. Unless it was to study the backwards nature of alien cultures.”

  Galen sighed, palms up in surrender. “Fine. No more Shakespeare. But comedy is a good idea. Have you heard of Amy Sedaris?”

  Navojan shrugged. “Does she work at the hospital?”

  “No,” said Galen, “She was a 21st-century comedian. Her brother David was more widely known, but she wrote a couple of books and plays. I was thinking of a book called I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence. I think you might actually like it.”

  Smiling despite his dubious expression, Nav responded, “I suppose anything’s possible.” He took another bite of sushi. “Ugh, this is truly awful. I need some real food.”

  Galen eagerly dug into his dragon roll as his friend returned to the line to order more food. As he turned back to the vids, he noticed Nav’s tablet sitting across the table. A few words were visible on the screen, among them his name.

  Wait, that wasn’t right. It said Gabriel, not Galen. Who is Gabriel?

  As he read the next sentence, his eyes widened, turning a brighter shade of green.

  Majet loves to watch Gabriel sleep

  Eyes soft, hands wrapped around his favorite pillow

  Smooth chest gleaming in the sunlight

  He can never resist running a hand down Gabriel's leg


  Watching him shiver as he murmurs unintelligibly in his sleep.

  Humans are so deliciously fragile

  In the moments before waking.

  Gabriel stirs and opens his eyes groggily

  Blinking when he sees Majet

  Feels a thrill at being watched

  Helpless and unaware

  Galen couldn’t resist sneaking a closer look. He glanced furtively over at the queue. Nav was still waiting, oblivious to his companion. No one was watching. Why should they be?

  Gabriel shivers

  As Majet binds his hands to the headboard

  Moves on top of him

  Kissing down his jawline

  Hot breath tickling his face

  Soft mouth on his collarbone

  Kissing a line across it

  So softly it is almost unbearable

  Gabriel grasps the sheets as Majet thrusts into him

  Begs him to go harder

  Faster

  Deeper

  Until they are both groaning and covered in sweat

  And Gabriel catches Majet’s scent

  That salty aroma that makes him weak in the knees

  The title Service to the state blinked in the upper right-hand corner of the file, with the owner listed as... Navojan? Nav wrote this?

  Galen gaped at the tablet, mouth hanging open as he continued to read. It seemed that Milosians skipped the poetry and went right down to business. Or were the explicit descriptions of sex a metaphor for budding romance?

  Galen’s internal dialogue ceased as he got to the end of the page and he drew a ragged breath. His arms squeezed the table so hard it wobbled. He felt himself growing hard and wriggled in his seat, his hand moving down of its own accord, stroking, squeezing-

  A tray dropped a few feet away and he jerked out of his stupor, looking around in panic. The cafe was still bustling with activity. He might as well have been invisible.

  God, he was enjoying this. He’d had plenty of fantasies about his friend. Seeing those scenes on the page, imagining Nav’s intimate reveries, was, well-

  It isn’t a fantasy about you, Galen. It says Gabriel.

  Did he know a Gabriel?

  Galen heard footsteps behind him, interrupting his thoughts. The world came back into focus. As quickly as he could, he returned his attention to the sushi in front of him, eating with his usual gusto.

  Navojan was back, his oversized hands carrying a plate of roast beef.

  Galen could almost feel those hands on his body. Heavenly.

  Nav set his tray down and smiled impishly as he sat across from his friend. Galen noticed him looking anxiously at his tablet and wondered if Nav had just realized that he’d left it sitting on the table. His stomach rolled uneasily.

  Nav shook off his nerves and said, “I just don’t understand the appeal of eating raw fish. Why order slimy pieces of eel when there’s freshly cooked brisket on special?”

  Galen fought back laughter, suddenly feeling much lighter. How had his alien companion developed the same tastes as his grandmother?

  Eyebrows raised, held tilted high, Galen feigned an air of superiority. “It’s a delicacy. Perhaps your Milosian taste buds are simply not developed enough to appreciate it. Anyway, it’s laser-generated fish; there’s nothing raw about it.”

  They finished their lunch, chatting about nothing. Galen could swear his friend was acting strangely, anxious one minute and smiling mysteriously the next, but Nav waved off his concern, changing the subject back to Milosian literature.

  Once they finished lunch, Galen retired to his residence for a quick nap before his shift at the hospital.

  He undressed and collapsed onto his bed, enjoying the feel of the cool sheets against his skin. Galen’s head sunk into the pillow and he closed his eyes, exhausted-

  -only to smile as Navojan settles behind him in the shower, soaping him up, running the loofah slowly up his arms, over his neck. Oh god, it feels amazing, unbearable, the sponge moving down the curve of his spine to his ass and Navojan’s elongated tongue flicking deep inside him. Holy fuck, he loves that feeling-

  Galen woke with a start. Sweat dripped down his body and he rubbed his eyes. So much for a midday nap. He didn’t feel rested at all. He told himself that the dream had nothing to do with what he’d read earlier. There was nothing wrong with an innocent fantasy.

  Gathering his medkit and tablet, Galen donned his scrubs and walked to his office at the hospital, pushing the notion out of his mind.

  The next few hours passed quickly. The small hospital at the University of Alaska normally had more patients than it could handle, but this week had been fairly calm. The flow of refugees had slowed temporarily as the city’s resources became overtaxed and people were being held at the Canadian Border. Several of the nurses were at afternoon prayer and he’d allowed a few more to leave early for leisure activities.

  Each time things slowed down at the hospital, Galen’s thoughts wandered and fantasies came unbidden. Closing his eyes, he thought back to one of the scenes he’d read in the cafe, a particularly delicious part. Reflexively he slumped down in his chair, almost in a trance, and a few seconds later he heard a loud bang.

  He’d dropped a tray of instruments. The noise drew puzzled looks from the nurses.

  Focus, Galen. Focus.

  It seemed the quiet of the week had spurred more leisure activities than usual. The virtual reality injuries were almost comical. Friends were carried over after falling off horses, hikers limped in after sliding down embankments, and weekend warriors appeared with sprained ankles and broken legs from ill-advised sports adventures. And of course there was the usual line of couples coming in with sex injuries. It never ceased to amaze him the many ways people found to push the boundaries of common sense.

  His cheeks turned scarlet as he imagined what injuries might result from some of the acts described on Navojan’s tablet.

  After finishing his shift, Galen walked home, enjoying the breeze on his back and the sounds of the trees swaying. Once there, he took his clothes off slowly, running his hands lightly over his chest, and lay down, sinking into the mattress. He’d been dying to get some time alone to enjoy the fantasies he'd had all day.

  Galen drifted off to sleep as his favorite reverie played out, a wide smile across his face as the scene materialized in his head.

  Nav has him tied him to the bed, face down and spread-eagle. Galen knows Navojan has a perfect view of his ass, gleaming as the sunlight flits between the cheeks, and feels a surge of pride at Nav’s intake of breath at the sight. He struggles against the ropes, unable to stay still as Navojan traces the feather tickler across the back of his neck, his sides, his thighs, achingly slowly.

  The feather moves steadily up his legs, pausing at the inside of his knee, teasing between his thighs until Galen begins to beg through the gag. The touches are unbearably soft and light, and he knows that Navojan loves to hear him moan, to feel him strain against his bonds, to see his thighs pink up and Galen spread his cheeks for him as he-

  He woke to his alarm ringing. He was groggy and a little grumpy to have been interrupted. He burrowed under the blanket and tried to return to the dream, but as usual, it had faded from his memory.

  * * *

  The next week, Galen made a point of arriving early at the cafe. He’d just come from a long shift in the ER and the restaurant was quiet. Most of the staff was still at the hospital. Working a double shift always left him exhausted and ravenous.

  He felt almost weak as he smelled the aroma of pancakes, fresh berries, and his favorite pastries. He loved weekend bunch at the cafe.

  He found them a table by the window with a view of the raging storm. Galen loved the rain, the wind, the chaos visible from the warmth of the cafe. Listening to the sounds of water pelting the windows was oddly comforting, the same way that curling under a cozy blanket was a treat during the cold winters.

  A voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “You
’ve already started?” Navojan asked, feigning annoyance. “At this rate, you’ll have cleaned your plate before I even reach the queue.”

  Galen’s face reddened as Nav approached the booth, eyebrows raised in mock surprise, and placed a light jacket on the chair opposite him and his tablet on the table.

  Keep it together, Galen. It’s just lunch.

  “You’d best hurry to the line before I do.” Galen smiled, almost feeling like himself again.

  As he watched Nav walk back to the buffet, Galen stared at the tablet. Did he dare sneak another peek?

  Glancing around, he was glad to see the cafe was a little busier than earlier. Adjusting his chair to shield him, Galen leaned over to read what was written on the tablet.

  Majet stands over Gabriel

  A riding crop in his hand

  Testing it on his palm

  Gabriel shivering in anticipation

  Blow after blow lands on Gabriel’s thighs

  His ass

  His legs

  Hard enough to draw blood

  Gabriel moans in pleasure

  The pain brings him to his knees

  Doubled over

  Majet grows hard at the sight

  Feels Gabriel shudder

  As he pleads for more

  Galen’s eyes widened and he blushed furiously, pupils blown, breathing barely under control. His breath quickened as he read over the descriptions and his hand began to stray idly downwards before he came to his senses.

  But it was impossible to leave things unfinished. Galen had to know what happened next. Looking over at the food line, he chanced it, quickly downloading the file onto a spare data rod he just happened to have in his pocket.