Imposition (2 page)

"Damn asshole,” Therse muttered to the empty bathroom.

He shouldered into the hot water and wondered idly whether or not to take his comms with him on his next run. He supposed he might be able to instruct the ship not to contact him unless Genham could convince it the situation was urgent...

He watched the water cascade over his chest and torso, following the furrows between his pectoral muscles and abs to his groin, pinking his tanned skin where it flowed. He lifted his hands and splayed his fingers, drops from the showerhead hitting his palms and falling like monsoon rain over his feet. He tipped his head back far enough so that the water flowed into and over his ears, muting the world with fluid noise for a few long moments until his short black hair was soaked through. He looked down at his feet and wriggled his toes. It seemed like they were starting to forgive him.

He stood there for a while with his eyes closed, thoughts coasting through his mind until the skin at his fingertips began to wrinkle.

He washed, using the formulated concoction the ship had provided him with. It lathered altogether more than he was used to and smelled distinctly odd, but it wasn't like there was an alternative.

He ran his hands firmly over his body, soaping and rinsing with his eyes closed, listening to the gentle spray, mind wandering in a certain direction. By the time he reached his groin, his cock was already hard.

He ran a hand down behind his balls, pushing his hips forward into the flow so that the suds got rinsed away down his thighs. He kept his hand there, stroking, leaning a shoulder against the wall of the shower, bringing the fingers of his other hand to his shaft and sliding up, turning to palm as he reached his glans.

He worked with both hands together, lips flushed and parting with the increasing pleasure and declining oxygen in the small enclosed cubicle. He thought about tight, warm muscle surrounding his cock, pulsing and clenching as he thrust inside. He worked faster and spread his legs, presenting himself to imaginary hot lips and eager tongue that savored the taste of him and begged him to come. He wanted to come. He moved his fingers to his balls, finding them tight and ready. He spread his legs wider, working up a rhythm and leaning so that his back was full against the wall.

Even with all the water, all the splashes and spray, he could feel how wet he was. His thighs shuddered as he neared climax, and he slowed his hands, panting as heat flushed his cheeks. He looked down at his cock, pulling the foreskin taut and exposing his head. A drop of pre-come pooled at his slit and dripped slowly over him. He rubbed his thumb through it, slick and smooth and frictionless, and thought of that mouth again. Thought of running his fingers into mid-length hair and gripping tight as lips and mouth worked over him, thought of holding them still and close as he prepared to paint his come all over those attractive features.

Orgasm coiled in his gut, and he tensed, riding the waves of pleasure that pulsed with each instinctive thrust of his hips as he fucked himself through it.

Frustrations marginally spent, he deflated a little and breathed heavily, rinsing his hand through the shower then cleaning his prick. It annoyed him that his mind always traveled in more-or-less the same direction when he was jerking off.

"Shower off,” he said, then stood dripping for a while, scrutinizing the room outside the cubicle. Having your own bathroom brought a certain amount of privacy—once you got beyond the thought that the ship could be observing you at any time—Therse at least welcomed that. Having to rough it out with a bunch of thick-necked dimwits was limited fun at the best of times, let alone if you were all naked and standing far closer together than felt comfortable.

It had certainly never been something that had bothered Genham. He had fit right in immediately with the rest of their squad—not that that came as too much of a shock, they were his kind of people, after all—acting just like when he and Gen had first enrolled: a dumb, bullish, insensitive asshole, strutting around in the nude, talking shit, and dishing out jibes to any unfortunate within earshot.

Something he used to do to Therse, on quite a regular basis and with some amount of venom.

Droplets of water tickled their way down Therse's back and slipped between his buttocks.

He put his palm out to lean on the flexiglass, but it moved out of his way, making him stumble awkwardly out of the cubicle, dripping and naked. He definitely would have gotten a ribbing for that back at the Navy base, but now there was no one there but him, standing damp and alone in the not insubstantial bathroom of his chosen suite somewhere in the vacuum between Epsilon and Gogh.

He remembered that he needed to get back into the cubicle to dry himself and wafted a hand hesitantly at the glass film until it retracted—rather abruptly—and stepped back in again. After two weeks of doing this, he really should have learned already. He lifted his arms up and imagined how ridiculous he must look.

"Dry,” he told the little display. After some experience of the process and a working knowledge of what was coming next, he screwed his eyes tight shut in anticipation.

The twin blasts of hot air hit him like a scouring desert wind, and would have knocked him from his feet had they not been in directly opposing orientations. The experience was thoroughly unpleasant—not as unpleasant as when he'd done it the first time with his eyes open—but at least he was more-or-less completely dry in a couple of seconds. The furnace vents shut off and retracted back into the wall, and Therse stepped from the cubicle onto the soft tactile rubber floor.

His reflection stared back at him from the room's field mirror, looking every bit as exhausted as he felt. He ran a hand through his short, unruly hair and pushed it halfheartedly into some sort of order, inspected his chin and decided a bit of stubble never did anyone any harm.

The bedroom was spacious and simple, the only things in the room a large bed and a sturdy-looking desk he would never use. He and Genham had both chosen what probably amounted to Officer's quarters, which they'd agreed they were entitled to, given that they were the highest ranks aboard the vessel, and because it was unlikely they'd be visited by a Captain or higher with nothing better to do than climb aboard the good-ship Middle of Nowhere.

The wallscreen opposite the bed flickered lazily to life as he walked towards it and popped the wall storage open, grabbing out a new shirt and fatigues. He watched the screen again for a couple of minutes as he dressed, only paying attention to the worst of the news headlines and feeling the dawning realization he was incredibly hungry.

The Officers’ mess was a sizable cafeteria supplied by a number of auto-service units situated in a cluster off to one side—the only ones they really used being the hot drinks machine and one that produced food resembling hot noodle soup. Nothing that came out of the other units seemed even remotely palatable, though the ship claimed the products were both edible and nutritious.

Therse picked his way through the maze of tables and chairs to the unit where his crew-mate was standing. Genham smirked at him across the light, open space. Therse ignored him, sidling past and picking up the cold coffee the man had been
so kind
to have the machine produce for him, tipping it away down a vacuum port.

"I went to all that effort, and you let it get cold."

Therse said nothing. He glanced across at the comms unit in the nearby wall the man had used to contact him and wondered if there was a way to disable it, but in all honesty if he did that he'd have to disable every point on the ship. He rinsed the cup out and replaced it under the machine's nozzle, selecting a new black coffee. A stream of hot brown liquid dispensed into it, filling the air with that invigorating scent.

"You get your miles in?"

Therse shot Genham a glare. He'd seated himself with one foot up on the table and was rocking back in his chair like a mischievous child, signature grin plastered over his face.

Therse turned back to his coffee, picking the mug up and inhaling the aromas. He took a sip. If you squinted, it almost tasted good.

He pulled out a seat opposite Genham and sat down, placing his coffee on the table a safe distance from Genham's foot.

Genham leaned forward, scrutinizing his expression in mock concern. “Are you still sulking?"

Therse took another emphatic sip of his bad coffee as Genham took a bite of something. He supposed he should eat too, though it seemed like far too much effort when everything tasted of nothing. He glanced at Genham, eyes going wide and jaw dropping as he realized what it was exactly that the other man was eating. Juice was running down his chin from the bite he'd left in it.

The tomato was more red and sweet-looking than anything Therse had ever seen in his life.

"Where the hell did you get that?” he asked in astonishment, fixated on the soft, bright fruit.

"Oh, you're talking to me now?” Genham showed him the contents of his other hand. Another tomato. He tossed it to Therse, who caught it as if it had been a tiny red baby. He smudged a thumb over it, feeling the soft skin ripple. It was perfectly ripe.

He looked over at Genham, almost expecting this to be some trick. The man was sucking on his fingers. Therse was salivating like a hungry dog. “How does it taste?"

The blond-haired man just smiled back at him. A rare, genuine smile. Therse parted his lips and bit into the tomato, his mouth flooding with flavor. It was incredible. He smiled despite himself, the irritation of earlier suddenly forgiven. “That'sh good,” he said through a mouthful, pushing the rest of it inside and filling his cheeks. “Are zhere mo?"

"There's a biohab,” Genham told him.

Therse's jaw stopped working, and he just stared, unable to comment with a face-full of juicy tomato. He chewed the rest quickly with reluctance and swallowed, wiping his chin off on the back of his hand then sucking on it. “Where? How did you find it?"

"When the ship gave us a tour of the facilities it forgot to mention three entire floors,” Genham replied, stretching his arms up above his head.

"Why would it leave something like that out? We've been living on crap from the vendors for weeks. And I can't even remember the last time I saw a tomato.” He looked down at his fingers, where some of the juice still remained. “What's the hab like?"

Genham shrugged. “Like any other really. All hydroponics and plants and stuff. Big enough to supply this ship's oxygen and then some though, I reckon."

"Hmm,” Therse said, scratching his chin. “These seven weeks might not be so bad after all."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means you've been irritating the shit out of me, is what it means."

Genham snorted and folded his arms across his broad chest. “Like I said, doing the shuttle awake was your choice, not mine."

"Yeah, I didn't think it would be
just us.
I didn't think I would have to suffer seven weeks of nothing but air-foils and craft engineering and
you
,” Therse complained. “I thought there would at least be some other normal personnel around as well."

"I like how you're insinuating that you'd be one of them."

A glare. Therse looked him over. “You should get back into training again, we're going to need to be fit for the next detail."

Genham fidgeted in his chair and straightened up, tugging his white t-shirt straight across his chest. “Look, I just don't care about it as much as you do. I'll start when we're nearly there or something."

Therse sat up, suddenly full of seriousness. “No, you need to start now. The atmosphere's going to be lower in oxygen than we're used to. I've already asked the ship to decrease the oxygen concentration of our atmosphere accordingly so we can get accustomed to it."

"When the fuck were you going to tell me?” Genham said, affronted.

"Now, I guess.” Therse shrugged as he licked the last of the tomato juice from his fingers.

"You can't make decisions that affect me without my consent."

"Don't be a jackass,” Therse told him, fixing his gaze. “You know it makes sense."

"
I'm
the jackass? I'm not the one making decisions without telling anybody when we're the same damn rank. Anything else you want to tell me?” Genham glared at him. “There is, isn't there?"

Therse met his eye guiltily. “The planet's gravity is higher, too,” he muttered, picking up his mug and blowing on its contents.

"Oh great,” Genham said, waving his arms wide. “Thanks for the notification,
sir
."

Therse snorted into his coffee, and the facade collapsed. Genham folded his arms and tipped his head to the side, jutting out his chin in annoyance. “Not a damn thing's been changed, has it?"

"Nope,” Therse said, swallowing and trying not to let victory show on his features. “Conditions on the next planet are almost exactly what we're already accustomed to."

Genham shot him a look like he was a total jerk, but conceded that had been well-played. He rose from his chair and turned towards one set of large double doors to the mess, glancing over his shoulder and grinning as he went, Therse having reminded him that they were equally matched.

"If you need me for anything, I'll be in the sim bay,” he said.

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He was running. Pounding through the dark jungle, slipping on the dense vegetation beneath his boots, grabbing at anything his hands could reach. The rain soaked him to his skin, torrential and endless, turning the ground into a twisted mass of black, slicked mud. He caught his foot on a root, and it brought him crashing down, sprawling over and over in the undergrowth. The mud stuck to him like engine lubricant, dragging on him, holding him as he reached desperately for safety.

He realized in his panicked struggle that the mud was alive; swarming creatures writhing around him, crawling across his body, pushing him under. He opened his mouth to scream, and the mud rushed inside.

Therse awoke with a start, lurching forward, hand immediately to his mouth. But there was no mud. No jungle, no rain, no mud-creatures. Only the empty room and the bed, sheets tangled around his legs. He was still breathing heavily from the shock of it, putting a hand against his bare chest to feel his heart racing.