Service to the State: A literary seduction Page 3

The compassion and warmth in Galen’s face almost undid him. Nav shook slightly and Galen tipped the spout into his mouth so he could drink a little more. Galen placed a hand on his arm and asked softly, “Better?”

  Navojan was completely out of his depth. He desperately wanted to accept the companionship being offered. Galen was the first friend, the only friend, truly, that he’d made on this planet.

  Navojan could easily overpower Galen, then steal what he needed from the hospital to render him unconscious for hours. By the time he told his story, if anyone believed it, Navojan would be long gone. So why didn’t he do it?

  He looked at Galen’s open, gentle face, and he knew. He was lonely. He wanted to share his secret. He trusted Galen. It was foolhardy in the extreme, but there it was.

  Sitting side by side on the couch, Nav began to speak. His voice shook a bit at the risk he was taking, but Galen listened quietly, occasionally covering his hand gently. His origins. The mission. The isolation. The secrets that, quite frankly, he had been certain he would take to the grave.

  As he recounted the moment he’d accepted the permanent exile from his world, the feeling of abandonment and the certainty he’d never return home, he broke down. He sobbed, head in his hands, and felt Galen stroking his back, murmuring soft reassurances. Every bit of training he had told him to pull away, but he couldn’t.

  Galen pulled him in for a kiss, stroking his hair, cupping his cheek, and holding his gaze. His sobs quieted and they sat there until his breathing relaxed and he was ready to continue.

  The rest of the night was a blur. Clothes strewn across his apartment, bodies intertwined in the sheets. The reassuring weight of Galen’s body on his. Lips moving down his ridges, achingly slowly, sucking on each until he was left gasping. Clutching at the sheets as Galen slammed into him, leaving behind a feeling of warmth that radiated through his entire body.

  The decision to stay had been terrifying. It was what he wanted, of course, the life he’d become accustomed to, the friend who brought him comfort. Yet it had taken all of Navojan’s strength not to pack up in the middle of the night and quietly disappear.

  The first few days, he'd expected government officials to break down the door at any moment and whisk him away to a dark room, where they could conduct experiments on the alien, or perhaps vivisect him to better understand his anatomy. It had been drilled into him that discovery would surely lead to capture, torture, and eventual death.

  Yet they never came. Galen had kept his word.

  The next week, Navojan had gone to the cafe for their weekly lunch. It had been stupid. Even if he’d kept Nav’s secret, there was no way Galen would still be coming.

  But when he had walked in, there was Galen at their table, smiling and standing to make room for Navojan to sit across from him.

  Galen began talking about literature and it was as if nothing had changed. Every now and then, Galen had looked at him fondly and the corners of his mouth had softened, as if to reassure Nav that he was accepted, that it was safe.

  Navojan had begun finding examples of Milosian literature for them to discuss. He hadn’t been able to bring much on the journey, but his library was dear to him and he couldn’t bear to leave the core of it behind. His mother had taught comparative literature at the local university and he’d been reading all sorts of Milosian classics from the age of six.

  Navojan had painstakingly dictated translations of the texts from the original Misodean and Galen was always fascinated by the stories. Navojan was in his element, once again enjoying a small connection to home.

  Galen seemed to understand that the night in Navojan’s apartment was comfort, nothing more, and they never spoke of it again.

  But ever since then, Navojan had carried a torch for the man.

  Maybe it was time to do something about that.

  Chapter Three

  In his corner office, Galen read through the previous day’s charts for the fifth time without retaining any of it.

  The majority of his staff were attending preparedness workshops for natural disasters. Hurricane-strength winds were a given these days and the hospital was locked down two or three times a week, but that was routine. It was the threat of a category four or five hurricane that was the real concern and it had been at least six months since their last serious storm. They were due.

  Galen stayed behind. He’d sat through the disaster training at least a dozen times and he needed to catch up on some paperwork. Not that any of it was actually getting done.

  Galen had surprised himself by being oddly edgy the night before. He’d intended to read Navojan’s book from cover to cover as soon as he returned to his residence, but found himself searching for things to do instead and eventually fell asleep with the data rod on his console, unread.

  When he awoke, though, his nerves were gone and he spent most of the morning reading Nav’s poetry. It was a wonder he was able to concentrate well enough to remember to show up for his shift at all.

  He must have read through the story at least five times. He told himself it was to better understand this new Milosian genre of writing. Critique Navojan’s style. Analyze the cultural differences in the way intimacy was treated in literature.

  He laughed. Even he didn't believe that. It was, however, the most enjoyable morning he'd spent in bed in recent memory. He sighed contentedly.

  To say it was explicit was the understatement of the year. Milosians were clearly far more creative in bed than he’d realized. The narrative in chapter four alone was enough to set his heart racing hours later. He’d read it so many times he had almost committed it to memory. Closing his eyes, he pictured the scene-

  Gabriel lies in bed, shivering

  The lights are low and shadows dance on the wall

  It is cold

  So fucking cold

  He closes his eyes

  Imagines Majet’s warm body on his

  Weight pressing down

  Tail wrapped around his legs

  Pelvis rocking gently against him

  Softly

  So softly

  Almost hypnotic

  Opening his eyes

  Gabriel sees Majet gazing at him

  Tenderly

  Hungrily

  His legs tremble in anticipation

  Majet strokes his calves

  His fingers idly circle Gabriel’s thighs

  And suddenly Gabriel gasps in pain

  Taking jagged breaths

  Hot pepper

  While he’d been drifting

  Majet had rubbed oil onto his dick.

  His breathing slows with effort

  His body twitches as pain shoots through him.

  Galen was twitching in his seat now. Thank god there were no patients close by.

  Majet kisses him gently on the lips

  Lays a hand on his cheek

  Murmurs softly as he rests his head

  on Gabriel’s chest

  Gabriel feels the reassuring vibrations

  His cock twitches pleasantly

  And he begins to doze

  Majet lifts Gabriel’s legs

  Massages lube into his ass

  It feels good

  So good

  Fingers moving inside him

  Exploring

  The sensations overwhelm him

  Majet slides a plug into him

  Filling him up pleasurably

  And once again

  Without warning

  There’s a flash of agony

  He clenches his cheeks

  The burning is intense

  And he knows

  Ginger

  He takes ragged breaths as the pain gives way to something else

  A pleasant, pulsing sensation

  His cock begins to harden

  The room is suddenly too hot

  He is sweating

  The stinging making his cock ache

  Moving against the sheets

  Trying desperately for some fricti
on

  Some relief

  Oh god

  It’s too much

  He can’t bear it...

  Gabriel. He’d checked the hospital employee directory three times this morning and there was no one by that name. Was it someone from Navojan’s home planet? An old fling? A childhood crush?

  Could it be about me? After all, Gabriel wasn’t so far from Galen.

  He shook his head at his own arrogance. Fantasy, Galen. Fiction.

  “Doctor? Dr. Jayr? Are you all right?”

  Galen’s attention returned as he realized one of the nurses was speaking to him. As always, the young man wore a silver cross on a chain, perfectly placed in the v-neck of his blue scrubs, and he fingered it uncertainly as he spoke.

  “Sorry. Yes?”

  “The patient in bed three needs your attention.”

  Returning his attention to his duties, Galen walked over with a reassuring smile. He looked down at the patient and his smile froze in recognition.

  “Navojan,” he said, forcing himself to maintain a professional demeanor. “What seems to be the problem?”

  Galen was the only doctor Navojan would see and even that had taken some convincing. Galen was fascinated with Milosian physiology. He tried to be good, but couldn’t help teasing Nav’s neck ridges during examinations just a bit. A little innocent flirtation between friends.

  Galen blushed. A little less innocent now. He forced himself to concentrate.

  “I'm having some pain in my stomach,” Navojan confessed. “It was mild at first, but it got worse, and an overzealous young resident dragged me here. I’m fine, truly.”

  Nav didn’t look fine. He was clutching his stomach, shielding it with his hands. But was that a twinkle in his eyes?

  “It can't hurt to take a look," Galen said, his voice cracking as he ran a scanner over Navojan.

  Come on, Galen, stop torturing yourself. Just focus.

  Galen gently eased Nav’s hands away from his stomach, saying, “I don't see any obvious issue. Where is the pain?”

  Navojan pointed to a spot on his chest rather than his stomach. Confused and a little reluctant, Galen began a proper, hands-on exam.

  He placed his hand on Navojan's chest, pressing firmly. Navojan put his hand over Galen's, moving it slowly down his torso. He trembled a little when Galen's hand slid over his nipples.

  “The pain is a little lower,” Nav said calmly, continuing to guide Galen's hand down his body.

  Galen was sweating by this point. If he'd thought it had been difficult to concentrate before, it was impossible now. His professional demeanor slipped as Nav’s other hand brushed his thigh.

  Had he imagined that? Was Nav... flirting with him?

  “Right here?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

  Nav pushed Galen’s hand lower.

  “More like here,” Navojan sighed, closing his eyes a bit.

  “Here?” His voice was almost a whisper. He wondered if Nav could feel his pulse racing.

  “Close,” said Nav softly, voice quiet, eyes on Galen.

  Navojan guided Galen’s hand down slowly to brush the top of his pants.

  At this point, his breath was coming in short bursts and he wasn't even trying to hide it. Their eyes locked and several beats passed.

  “Doctor?” the nurse interrupted and Galen dropped his hand immediately.

  The young man looked confused. Right, he thought. I'm meant to be examining Navojan.

  “When you’re done here, there are two more patients waiting for you,” continued the nurse.

  Galen schooled his expression and turned to Navjoan.

  “It seems the pain is near your gallbladder. Do you have gallstones?” he asked in the most professional voice he could muster.

  A pause.

  “It's possible. My previous doctor never seemed very concerned. Should I be worried?“

  “Not unless the pain continues. If you're still feeling discomfort in a few days, come and see me again.“

  Nav looked at him for a long moment.

  “I will.“

  Navojan stood up as Galen was called away to assist with another patient. He practically ran in the other direction, feeling Navojan’s eyes on his back as he hurried away.

  * * *

  After his shift at the hospital, Galen went for a run, feet pounding the pavement in an attempt to drown out his thoughts. He was in excellent shape, and by the end of five miles, realized he’d managed to get his pace up to a six-minute mile.

  He returned home, exhausted but feeling good, and flopped onto the couch. A few minutes later, he was drifting off, consciousness fading, loudly snoring.

  He looks around, taking in his surroundings. Why is he alone in the hospital? Where are all the machines?

  Then he notices the figure before him.

  Navojan is in his ER, lying on the cold table, unable to move. His heart speeds up. The sight of his friend, helpless, almost naked from the waist down, sends a jolt right to his groin. Galen looks down, a sudden gleam in his eye. He could do anything. Anything at all.

  Nav’s tail is trapped between his legs and he clearly hasn’t shaved the quills in awhile. Sitting on his tail must be very painful. Sure enough, he can see Nav twitching, tightening his buttocks in a futile attempt to keep it off the metal surface. Pushing down on his torso, Galen hears him stifle a gasp as his pelvis is rocked from side to side, scraping his ass and legs against the sharp quills, leaving bright red marks on the sensitive skin of his legs. Galen picks up a scalpel and Navojan startles, terror evident in his eyes as he squirms on the table.

  “Lie still,” Galen says sharply and Nav scrambles to obey, his eyes on the scalpel.

  He cuts off Nav’s shirt, blade millimeters from his exposed neck, and draws a small amount of blood. Nav shivers as his shirt is slowly removed and each thick ridge is exposed to the cold air. Galen searches the box of instruments until he finds the small hose used to suction and improve visibility during surgery. Nav gasps as he moves the suction tool across the meatiest ridge, lingering at the spots that extract moans and strangled gasps, watching as pleasure shoots through his friend’s chest. Galen’s other hand moves the scalpel slowly down Nav’s stomach, watching his scales turn a deep shade of violet.

  Galen can see Nav’s cock straining against his delicate briefs and runs the scalpel over it through the fabric, the sharpened end digging slightly through the fabric. A strangled moan comes from Navojan, but Galen stifles the noise with a hand. He can’t afford to be discovered by another doctor. Bringing the edge across the elastic, Galen strips him of his undies and his cock jumps out. His body positively gleams as he lies naked on the table, scales darkened, skin turning a deep shade of crimson as blood flows to his engorged penis, and he makes pleading sounds-

  What was that buzzing sound? A car? Why was there a car in his ER?

  The hum of the generator grew louder and louder until consciousness slowly dawned and he awoke. His eyes adjusted slowly to the light and the headache from the noise receded to a dull ache.

  Galen rubbed his temples and slowly got up, ordering a double espresso from the ELI. After a few minutes, he felt vaguely human. The generator had cycled off and the neighborhood was eerily quiet.

  He hated waking to an empty house. It had been years, but the silence still undid him.

  How long had it been since Solat left? Since he’d fled his life for this barren wasteland? Four years? Five?

  Galen had been a completely different person in his twenties. Medical school had been a breeze. He finished at the top of his class and was accepted into a prestigious surgical internship in Dublin.

  He smiled at the memory. His mother had been so proud.

  Galen’s residency had gone spectacularly well. A cardiothoracic surgeon had taken an interest in him and by the end of his first year, Galen was a star. He practically lived at the hospital and it seemed inevitable that something would develop with Dr. Solat Reih.

  The sed
uction had been slow, almost imperceptible. Solat’s hands softly brushing his face, running down his arms, idly making circles on the back of his hand while discussing patient concerns. A light hand on his back, eventually drifting downward as they spoke about cases and complex surgeries, stroking his neck as he hummed in pleasure. Solat had him panting for weeks before anything happened between them.

  Two years into his residency, they moved in together and planned for a June wedding. Galen was courted for fellowships at the top hospitals in the city and his future was filled with possibility. Somehow a relationship with his 40-year old mentor hadn’t seemed strange at all. It was fate. They were kindred spirits.

  Galen laughed bitterly. He’d found out later that Solat had been involved with at least five other interns over the years, possibly more. Apparently Galen wasn’t the only one to find his intellect compelling.

  He wondered suddenly if his mother had felt the same way. His father had dazzled her with his brilliance and tales of big city life, and as their relationship progressed, he gradually coaxed her to give up her own interests, her heritage, her entire sense of self. The only difference was that his father had stayed faithful. Was that better or worse?

  Galen lay down on the couch and propped himself against the soft pillows. He couldn’t deal with memories of his parents right now. His head was pounding and he shut his eyes for a few moments until the pain receded. Maybe a nice, leisurely shower would do the trick.

  He could feel his muscles relax as soon as the hot water cascaded down his back. Galen remembered the first time Solat had joined him in the shower. He could almost feel Solat’s firm body behind him, strong hands massaging his shoulders and soaping up his chest while soft lips kissed his neck. He moaned and closed his eyes. In his mind, Solat was on his knees cleaning Galen’s legs with a thick loofah in steady strokes that moved upward, ever so slowly.