Archive of Our Own

All I want is
To feel beautiful inside and out
You’re the one
That can save me from myself
- Rina Sawayama, “Frankenstein”

The port at New Qo’noS is a mess of new construction and crowds. There are more Klingons here than I’ve seen anywhere before in my life. There’s also people of dozens of other species mixed in. No one even notices me as I push my way to where Jay-den is waiting for me. When he sees me, he gives me one of his warm little smiles. Next to him is a large crate, which is emitting a horrific squealing noise.

“It’s good to see you, Darem.” His hand claps down on my shoulder, a hefty weight that jostles me.

“What is that, and why is it screaming?” I point at the crate.

“He is a young male targ. He wants to be free of the crate, but I cannot allow him to be loose while we are in the port. There are rules about livestock within the area.”

“Why do you have a targ?”

“My parents have begun breeding hunting targs. They requested I trade one of their targlets for this one to support genetic diversity in both breeding groups.”

“House Kraag is breeding targs.”

“My mother says that in the days of old, it was a noble pursuit of many great warriors. She hopes that targs will be able to populate New Qo’noS as they once did Qo’noS. Come, we can leave the port and then I can introduce him to you.” I’m skeptical that I actually want to meet him. Jay-den picks up the crate, even though it seems too big for him to carry so easily. We make our way through the crowds, past the market, and out into the wilds of New Qo’noS.

When Jay-den releases the targ from its crate, it gives another absolutely horrific noise and charges out. It runs around us for a while, and Jay-den just starts hiking as it runs. It screams less while running, but it still makes quite a bit of noise. Eventually, it slows down enough to become interested in me. It moves in close, sniffing at my legs. It bites me on the leg and then scampers off when I shout in protest.

“Ah, good. He likes you.” Jay-den smiles at me.

“He bit me! What would he have done if he didn’t like me?”

“He would have tried to gore you with his primary horn.” The expression I make in response must strike him as funny, because he laughs, a little sound in the back of his throat and a little involuntary hitch of his shoulder. “He cannot gore you currently. His horn has been capped for the time being.”

“Right. Thanks for that.”

“Did he damage you or your trousers?”

“No, I’m fine, Jay-den.” He nods.

We walk quietly for a long time. The heat is intense, but the humidity makes it far more bearable than Ni’var. The forest is thick, but there’s a navigable trail. I’m not sure if it's been made and maintained by Klingons or if there’s some large wildlife that runs these woods. Overhead, birdcalls sound intermittently. Occasionally, Jay-den will stop and point out a particular bird in the trees above us. Some of them look like living jewelled sculptures in the trees, brilliant flashes of color amongst the brown and green. Most of them are just brown.

We reach Jay-den’s campsite after about four hours of hiking. He set up on a hillside about 50 meters from a small stream. There’s a structure that’s a little too permanent to count as a tent, but too flimsy to count as a cabin. He takes me down to the stream to help him check his traps, which have a decent number of eels caught in them. The eels are fairly small, but Jay-den seems pleased with the catch. Once we’re back at camp, he insists I just sit down while he starts the fire, sets up a cooking pot, and dumps the eels into it. He adds a few different dried herbs, as well as a handful of things that look like they might be fruit. He brings the mixture to a boil, stirring it.

While Jay-den cooks, the targ plays at charging me repeatedly, harassing me until I grab it by the horn. Then it runs. When I don’t follow, it runs back and does a little ludicrous spin around over and over until I give in and chase it.

I chase the horrible little beast around Jay-den’s campsite until Jay-den calls out. He tosses a handful of gagh and some of the stew onto the ground, which gets the targ’s attention immediately. The little creature abandons the game, and I make my way back to Jay-den. He hands me a bowl of the stew. The flavor is sharp, strongly spicy, and very fishy in a way that I imagine most people would not appreciate. I like it, though I wish the bones were a bit crunchier.

“Thank you for coming.” Jay-den’s voice is quiet, a low rumble that comes over the sound of the crackle of the campfire.

“I’m glad you invited me.” I don’t say how worried I was that he wouldn’t. How much his silence hurt. How much it felt like a rejection.

“Tomorrow, we can take the targ to my parents. They are interested in meeting you.”

“Really?”

“I have… told them of you. That you are important to me. That I have made you my brother.”

“How have things been with them?”

“It has been difficult, but when they met Kyle… I believe it was clarifying.” Silence stretches between us. He finally breaks it. “I was worried about them meeting you before they met Kyle. I am sorry if waiting to invite you caused distress.”

“Why would you be worried about that?”

“You speak with confidence. You are bold and eager to fight, but still have a strong sense of duty. You are… very much like a Klingon. I worried that if they met you, they would not give Kyle a chance. He is not like you. He is… gentle. Curious. His confidence is quiet, not the brash kind of a Klingon. They would not have seen the warrior’s heart he has.”

“Right.” I feel my neck get hot. I look at the fire, avoiding his gaze.

“He used my bow to hunt one of the native beasts. Brought it down with a single arrow through the eye. My parents were impressed with him. When he left, my mother told me that she thought he was a good match for me. A warrior with a gentle manner to match a healer ready to go into battle. She said that of me. As if she understood my path. I never thought they would. I think meeting Kyle helped them understand me.”

“I’m glad that they see you, Jay-den.” I say it quiet, but my voice is earnest. I hate that it was Kyle who helped them see him, but at least there’s a chance he can build understanding with them. He deserves that. He deserves a family that loves him.

“I am sorry that it took me so long to invite you. I needed them to meet Kyle first. And I needed to discuss things with Kyle.”

“It’s fine, Jay-den.” I lie to him without thinking about it, and then I’m immediately mad at myself about it.

“It is not. It was selfish. I should have told you of my concern. I should have explained myself and not ignored the question.” He stands up and crosses over to me, suddenly right in front of my face. I can’t pretend to look at the fire. His eyes bore into me, and I bite my lip, suddenly nervous. “I have wronged you.”

“I understand why you did it, Jay-den.” That much is true, but it’s clear he needs me to say something more than that. “I… I was upset when I thought you didn’t want me to come. And… I ran into Kyle on Ni’var. He… he just assumed I was coming to see you. Which kind of made it worse. But you invited me in the end. I’m here. I’m with you, which is what I wanted. I forgive you.” I reach out a hand to him, and he takes it firmly.

“Thank you, Darem.”

“Should I be nervous about meeting your parents?”

“No. You should be yourself. Klingons are often fond of assholes.” I laugh in response, and he gives me a small smile. We go to bed in his structure. The targ nestles near my feet. It’s hard to fall asleep being so close to Jay-den while trying so hard not to touch him.

In the morning, it’s an hour hike upstream to Jay-den’s parents’ campsite. When we arrive, the targ screams as a pair of even larger targs barrel towards us. The larger targs nip at Jay-den and circle me for a bit before one of them decides to bite me. I manage not to make an undignified noise this time.

One of the big targs knocks over the smaller targ, and then bites him on the belly. He makes another horrendous noise, but then the three of them trot back to the campsite. Jay-den and I follow them. The campsite itself consists of three structures, similar to the one at Jay-den’s camp. Nearby, there’s a Klingon shuttle. As we approach, an older Klingon woman comes out to meet us.

“Darem, this is my mother, L’vanna. Mother, this is my brother, Darem.” Jay-den’s voice seems lower than usual, absolutely serious.

“It is good of you to bring the targ, my son, and good of you to bring your brother to me. Now let me look at my new son.” She approaches me and claps me on the shoulders, a broad smile on her face. I have no idea what to do. “Jay-den speaks well of you. He says you once walked the hull of a ship without protection. A bold feat. I am certain you will bring glory to our House.”

“Thank you, mistress. I am deeply honored.” She makes a dismissive noise with her teeth.

“Such formality. No. You will call me L’vanna. Come sit. My husbands are on the hunt. They should return soon. Perhaps tomorrow you and I can hunt together.”

“I’m not experienced with a bow, but if you have a spear I can borrow, I’d be happy to help.” She makes the noise with her teeth again.

“We will have to show you how to use a bow properly while you are here. It is the symbol of our House. Even those who do not use such implements know how, should the need arise.” She doesn’t look at Jay-den when she says this, but the comment feels like it’s directed at him. He sits down close to the fire and pokes at the embers, shifting some wood so that it burns.

“My weapons training favored melee weapons, but I’m eager to learn.” I redirect her attention back to me.

“Weapons training?”

“Since I was seven. Knives, swords, spears. Energy weapons too, but I won the under 18 fencing championship three years in a row on Khionia. Archery wasn’t one of my pursuits.”

“I will be pleased to complete your training then.” Her smile is broad and she claps me on the shoulder. It’s like being thrown into a wall. I manage to not let her knock me down.

“Darem is also on the calica team at the academy. He is quite skilled at it.” Jay-den offers, looking up at us briefly.

“You mentioned that before. It is some kind of war game?” She looks between us.

“Yes. It’s meant to mimic a battlefield setting. Combat drones, smoke, fire, and an enemy team armed with phasers. Genesis is the team captain though. Jay-den brought her into your house as well. She’s a good strategist and almost as good a shot as me.”

“She is a better shot than you.” Jay-den corrects me.

“We tied on all the tests.” I amend. She is a better shot than me when it really counts, but I don’t want to say that in front of Jay-den’s mother. “I’ve got some recordings of our games on my PADD, if you’re interested in watching.” She smiles in such a way that I have no idea if she has any interest.

“They are all on the calica team. Genesis, SAM, Caleb, and Darem.” Jay-den says it quietly.

“But Kyle is not.” L’vanna responds, looking over at Jay-den.

“No, he is not. And if he were, he would be on the opposing team.” Jay-den responds, still quiet.

“Ah.” She looks down at the fire. Silence sits heavy around us.

“I heard Kyle took down some kind of beast while he was here.” I offer, breaking the silence. She grins again.

“He and Enok went hunting. They had to request Drekol and Jay-den come join them to haul it home, the beast was so large. We have smoked and preserved a large amount of it. It will last quite some time.” She looks quite proud. I look down at the fire.

As I watch the fire, I hear a pair of voices singing in Klingonese. One deep resonant bass, the other a full baritone. They swagger into the camp, each carrying a large bird.

“Ah! Jay-den, you have arrived! And you have brought us a targ and a young man!” The taller of the pair shouts with pleasure and pulls Jay-den to his feet and then into an embrace. That one has a gray beard and a bald head. The other man has long brown hair and a thick beard that matches.

The three targs scream and circle around them, followed by two tiny targlets.

The brown-haired Klingon approaches me with a diffident smile. His manner reminds me so much of Jay-den.

“I am Enok. Jay-den told us that you were coming, Darem.” He nods and moves over to L’vanna.

“You’re rather handsome, aren’t you?” The gray-bearded man says as he approaches me.

“Father.” Jay-den’s voice has a warning tone to it. The man only smiles like he thinks Jay-den’s reaction is funny.

“I am glad that my son has been so diligent in expanding our house. I am Drekol.” Then he yanks me into a hug that feels too tight and somehow perfect. He drapes his arm over my shoulders as he guides me back to the fire.

I help him pluck the feathers from the bird. He’s careful to instruct me which feathers are most important to remove carefully, which ones they need for fletching arrows, which ones people will trade for at the market in the port. They keep the rest for stuffing bedrolls and making insulation.

They roast the birds over the fire. Enok pulls out a Klingon guitar, and they sing together. It’s a bit surreal. It’s beautiful. After a few songs, I offer to play one for them. The Klingon guitar isn’t the same as the belaklavion, but it’s similar enough that I can pick out a melody fairly easily. They don’t know the song, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care if I played a wrong note. So I play for them.

I play a fast song, a dance. Drekol and L’vanna react with enthusiasm, clapping along. Jay-den and Enok are more quiet in their response, but they smile and move slightly with the music. When I finish the song, I hand the guitar back to Enok. He insists that I teach him the song before I leave. I agree.

We eat, and they sing more. Then they bundle Jay-den and I into one of the structures. The young targ follows us in, laying down between us, curling into a little ball of spikes.

“They like you a great deal. I was certain they would.” Jay-den smiles at me as we lay down. I feel a heat deep in my chest.

“I like them too. Thanks for bringing me here.” The way he’s looking at me makes me ache to touch him. My throat feels raw, like I might start crying. I roll onto my other side, so I don’t have to keep looking into those burning green eyes. He turns out the light.

In the morning when I get up to do some of my exercise routine, Drekol is already awake, building the fire back up to cook breakfast. He seems pleased that I’m an early riser. When I say I was planning to get some exercise, he offers to teach me batleth forms. I’ve never actually wielded a batleth, but I go along with it. I know Jay-den said they like me, but I really want to cement it. I try not to think about why I want that so much.

He starts off basic. Standard thrust and parry. He smiles broadly as I go through the basic moves. We move on quickly to the ways the batleth is different from the blades I’m used to. The curve of it, the way it flows in motion, the quick shifting of hands to alter leverage and utilize all of the blades and edges it has available. Some of the techniques he shows me feel dangerously stupid, so easy to miss the grip and catch the blade instead. He stops before I actually hurt myself.

“You are a quick study, son. L’vanna said you were experienced with weapons. Show me a form you know by heart.” His smile is warm and gentle. I have a deep need to impress him. I pick up a d’k’tagh and show him a traditional Khionian dagger dance with it. Fast movement, focused on feints and closing and then disappearing before an opponent could do anything. I work up more of a sweat than I wanted to. I remember only when I’m almost through the demonstration that I’m supposed to go hunting with L’vanna today. I feel a pang of stupidity and falter in the middle of the dance. If I wear myself out with exercises, how am I supposed to be useful in the hunt? Fucking idiot. “That is enough, son. L’vanna will hold it against me if you strain yourself.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Your technique is impressive.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Sir? Who is this sir? No, you call me Drekol or you call me father, I am no sir.” I feel my skin burn slightly as he says the word ‘father’. I fight the urge to run, instead just sheathing the d’k’tagh and putting it back in its place.

“I should go clean up, Drekol. Thank you for the lesson.” I avoid looking at him. Jay-den emerges from where we slept, and I use it as an excuse to slip away to the stream to wash myself. I can hear in the distance the sounds of them talking, but I can’t make out the words. I don’t want to know what they’re saying. I don’t want to know if they’re talking about me.

I strip off my clothes and try to get as much of myself under water as I can. The stream isn’t deep enough to really sink under the surface, but the cool water still feels like a relief. I stick my face under the water. I turn over, laying on my back on the bottom of the streambed, my body not quite covered in water.

I don’t hear Jay-den approach. I only notice that he’s there when he looms over me. I am naked, laying in the stream. I don’t want to get out, but I instinctively sit up, putting a hand over my crotch. As if he hasn’t seen me naked in the showers before. I feel like an idiot, but I make the attempt at modesty anyway.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course. I just wanted to get clean, and the water felt good.” He gives me a suspicious look.

“Did my father upset you? Suggesting that you could call him ‘father’?”

“Why would that upset me?” He looks at me like I’m stupid, which I am. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It was… very kind.”

“He was speaking honestly. You are his son now as far as he is concerned.” I want to plunge my face under the water again. I can feel my eyes burning as tears well up.

“I… I need to tell you something.” He waits as I try to push the tears back. “The day you left… my parents… they… damnit.” He squats on the edge of the stream, reaching his hand out to me. I take it. He waits. I put myself back together. “They sent a message. I am no longer their son.”

Why was it so much easier to tell Genesis? To tell Ocam? Why am I crying right now? Was it easier to tell Genesis?

Will I be a walking wound for the rest of my life?

I don’t deserve their acceptance. I want it so badly, and I don’t deserve it, and they’re going to realize I’m not good enough.

I’m so fucking stupid.

“You thought you were recovering from that damage. My father’s willingness to accept you when your parents had turned away reopened your wound. I am sorry, Darem.” Fuck, why does he understand me so clearly? I don’t deserve him.

“Yeah.” My voice is small and shaky. He pulls me out of the water, pressing my wet body against his. His arms wrap around me, enveloping me in him. I kneel in the water, my head under his chin.

“Do you wish for me to explain to them or will you do it yourself?”

“Why do they need to be-”

“They will not desist if nothing is said. I thought I was clear. They like you a great deal. You are the son they hoped for.” I push myself away from him, a burst of worry for him cutting through my own feelings. I need to see his face.

“Jay-den, I-” His face is calm. Unbothered by a statement that not long ago would have been bitter.

“I do not say that with self-recrimination. They see me for who I am. You remind them of my brother Thar, who we lost. They are pleased that I found you. They are proud that I made you part of our house. They will persist in making you know that unless they are told you are not yet in a position to accept their… affections.”

“I’d rather they not know.”

“qamogh, mulwI’.” He looks away, his lips tight. He so rarely speaks to me in Klingonese. I should have been learning Klingonese this whole time. I should be able to speak his language. I should be trying harder to deserve him in my life.

“What?”

“Nothing. I will respect your wishes, qamoghwI’.”

“Kah-moag again.” He narrows his eyes and stands.

“qamogh almost always. Come and eat when you are ready.” He walks up the little hill back to camp, not looking back at me.

I lay back down in the stream, feeling like that went poorly. I eventually get up and join them to eat. Breakfast is fresh gagh and roasted mushrooms. There is a spicy dipping sauce to go with them. I’m glad I practiced eating gagh a few times before coming. When we finish eating, L’vanna strings her bow and gives me a set of javelins in a quiver and an eight foot spear from their weapon collection.

She leads us through the thick forest for about two hours before she even bothers looking around for signs of wildlife to hunt. We continue, slow and methodical for another hour before she points to where something large scraped a patch of bark from a tree. She traces the trail, showing me the signs as we proceed until I start spotting them on my own. We pick up the pace then until we spot it.

“Faan bear.” She whispers to me. Given its trail, I thought it would be bigger, but as I watch it move, it looks dense and heavy. All muscle, fangs and claws. “An arrow won’t take it down. It will charge at us. Be ready.”

I nod, readying the spear. She draws back her bow. The first arrow slams into the beast’s side, and it roars, turning on us. The second arrow goes through its snout. It rises up on its hind legs, then slams down again, barrelling towards us. The third arrow hits it straight in the chest.

She moves away as I thrust the spear forward, slicing the beast’s neck. I spin out of its way, but it knocks the spear out of my grip. Another arrow strikes it in one of its eyes and it bellows. I run trying to maneuver behind it fast as I can as I draw a javelin. It turns, following me faster than its heaviness would imply.

I hurl a javelin into its face. It lets out another roar and the javelin shatters in its jaws. It gives me enough time to get behind it. I slam a javelin into its back. The roar becomes strangled. Its movement slows, trying to turn, but one of its hind legs isn’t moving anymore.

L’vanna hurls the spear through its throat. It collapses, chest still heaving. She draws a d’k’tagh from her belt and slices through the beast’s spine even as it tries to snap its jaws at her.

“Any harm to you, son?” She smiles at me as we stand over the beast.

“I’m fine. Did it get you at all?”

“No. You did well.”

“How are we supposed to haul this back to camp?”

“We will skin it here, cut the good bits off and leave the rest. Faan bear organ meat is toxic for Klingons. The corpse will attract scavengers. My husbands can hunt them soon.”

She shows me how to skin it, and we spend more than an hour laboring over the corpse. We recover the arrowheads, the javelin tips, and the spear. After, she drapes me in the bloody skin of the beast and each of us carry two of its legs back to camp. It’s another three hours back to camp. When we make it back, I am exhausted.

Enok fusses over me as L’vanna tells the story of our hunt. Drekol is exuberant about the tale. Jay-den shakes his head and begins to clean the skin and ready it to be stretched and properly treated.

They sing as one of the bear’s legs roasts over the fire. I don’t know the words, but I was paying attention to Enok’s playing and offer to accompany them. Enok watches me as I play, smiling even as he sings. The three of them call me son all evening long. Jay-den insists that we go to bed before them, to ensure I can rest and recover from the day.

“vay' DaneHbogh yIchargh, puqloDwI’!” Drekol shouts at us as we enter our shelter. Enok and L’vanna laugh. Jay-den glares at them.

“Are you going to tell me what that one meant?” I flop onto the bedroll.

“No.” Jay-den does not look at me, glaring at the closed entrance of the structure. He lays down and turns out the light.

“Will you tell me what kah-moag means?”

“qamogh.”

“Sorry. Will you tell me what qamogh means?”

“Better.”

“It doesn’t mean better.”

“Your pronunciation was better.”

“Jay-den.”

“Ah. Now I am the one.”

“What?”

“It means that you are frustrating me.”

“Oh. Sorry.” We lay in silence in the dark of the little structure for a while.

“Tomorrow, we will return to my camp.”

“Oh.”

“We will come back here again before you leave. My parents would not tolerate our departure otherwise.”

“I… would you feel weird if I called Drekol father?”

“Would you?”

“Jay-den.”

“I would not. It would please him greatly.” I can hear him grumble slightly, the sound he’s making when he’s putting his words together. “Are you sure that you wish to do so?”

“Maybe. No. I don’t know. They’re so… I just want them to know that I like them too. That I’m happy to be part of your house.”

“They have seen you. They know. Be careful how much you show your affection. They may try to make you stay.” I give a quiet laugh at that.

“I wouldn’t mind staying. Maybe next break we can come back.” Silence stretches for a moment. “I mean, if it’s ok with you.”

“I would like that.” For a moment, I feel like I’m floating. “I hope you would not mind if Kyle joined us.” Moment over.

“Sure. Yeah. Whatever makes you happy, Jay-den.”

In the morning, we eat more gagh and mushrooms with spicy sauce, and then Jay-den leads us downstream back to his camp. His shelter needs repairs, but the traps held up and we have plenty of eels to eat. I set up the fire and the cooking pot with the eels while he works on the shelter.

“I know that you hoped to stay longer with my parents, but there is something I wished to discuss with you privately.” He sits by the fire, looking serious as he always does.

“Right. What do you want to talk about, Jay-den?”

“I told you before that I waited to invite you until after my parent’s met Kyle. I also wanted to discuss inviting you with Kyle.”

“Oh.”

“I… I needed to discuss my feelings with him.”

“Sure. He’s your boyfriend or whatever.” Jay-den makes a grumbling noise in response. “Was it… did you need to talk to him because you thought… I don’t know. You said I remind them of Thar. And you weren’t feeling that connected to them before Kyle came. I could understand not wanting to have me here if you were struggling with them.”

“It was not because of them.” I wait. “I needed to discuss with Kyle his feelings. About you.”

“What?”

“And my feelings about you.” I stare at him. He looks at the fire.

“Jay-den…” I don’t know what to say after that. My brain isn’t working. Fucking worthless brain.

“We reached an understanding.”

“Oh. What… what understanding did you reach?”

“I wished to know if he was comfortable… if I pursued you. As he had pursued me.” My face is so hot. “I wanted to know if he would still wish to be… with me if I was also… with you.” I stare at him incredulously. “He encouraged my pursuit. He still wants to be with me, regardless of what happens between… you and I.”

“Oh.”

“Are you… comfortable… with that?”

“Yes.” The word is out of my mouth before I can even process that I’m saying it. He moves to me suddenly, kneeling in front of where I sit, grabbing my hands in his.

“parmaqqawI’ SoH, qamoghwI’oy.”

“qamogh again. What did I do?”

“qamoghwI’oy. My frustration. A bang pong.” The emphasis on ‘my’ makes all the difference. All of my body feels hot. I am wearing too much clothing, but he is kneeling, holding my hands, and clearly in the middle of what he’s doing, and I can’t just start taking off my clothes. Can I? “And parmaqqay-”

“I know what that one means, Jay-den.” I kiss him, impulsive and eager. His mouth tastes like iron, not bloody, but heavy and metallic with intense spice to it. As I pull back, he has a grin on his face that makes me even more desperate to take off my clothes.

Then he bites my face. I yelp, and he’s on top of me. He knocks me down from where I sit, and I go sprawling on the hard ground. He moves with me as I fall backwards, staying on top of me, straddling me. He rips my shirt open. His hand extends suddenly, his nails scraping across my chest. I hiss in pain as I can feel the blood starting to well up from the marks. He leans in and runs his tongue along the scratches.

“qamoghwI’oy.” He hisses it against my skin, then sits back up. He looks down at me like I’m his conquered prey. I fumble around, pushing his jacket off, getting my hands under his tunic. I’m barely aware of the fact that I am rock hard and grinding against him where he straddles me. I just want us to be naked so badly. He’s suddenly standing over me, and the contact is gone. “Come. We will go into the shelter. It is too cold out here.”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“No.” He reaches a hand down and grabs me by the waistband of my trousers, hauling me up to my feet. He can lift me one-handed, a fact I just learned that makes my cock start leaking immediately. I drop the remains of my shirt to the ground and follow him hurriedly into the shelter. His hand is still on my trousers. He starts to pull.

“Jay-den wait! We don’t have a replicator. I need these trousers.” He pauses.

“I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“It’s fine. I packed a few of those. I only have one other pair of trousers.”

“So you have another pair.”

“Jay-den.”

“I could give you some of my clothes.” I feel my skin flush at the thought of being wrapped up in his clothes. He grins in response. My trousers are promptly torn open. His hand is on my cock, and he kisses me, rough and intense. This time, he does taste like blood, and it’s my blood specifically. My blood on his lips. I’ll need to process why that is so sexy to me later. I don’t have the capacity right now.

I shove his tunic up, trying to get it over his head even as he keeps kissing me. I manage to push him back long enough to get the tunic off of him, running my hands over his body. He kisses me again, and gives a slight bite on my lower lip as we separate. Then he leans to my neck, and the scrape of his teeth is painful and makes me want to drop to my knees and worship him. I would if he didn’t have such a firm grip on my dick.

I shove my hands into the waistband of the leather trousers he’s wearing, pushing them down roughly. It takes a bit off effort, but then his cocks spring free. I grab his ass with both hands and pull him against me. I grind my cock between his, feeling his hardness on either side of my shaft. His mouth moves to my chest, and he bites harder this time, drawing blood.

“Fuck.” I hiss the word out, unable to stop it from escaping my lips.

“choneH pe'vIlHa' nga’chuq’a’?” He moves his head back just enough so he can look me in the eye.

“I didn’t catch any of that.” I rock my hips against him more firmly, focusing on the sensation of my cock rubbing against both of his. His eyes narrow, like he’s having trouble finding his words.

“Gentler?”

“Fuck no.” He grins.

“Harder?” I hesitate a moment.

“No. You’re good right now.” He nods and then knocks me down again. This time I hit the bedroll instead of just rocks and dirt. He kicks off his boots and trousers, then turns. He moves to straddle my head and shoulders, the perfect round curves of his ass lowering towards my face. I grab his hips and pull him closer, eagerly running my tongue along the cleft of his ass. He arches his back, and his buttocks part to reveal his dark hole. I dig in, licking and sucking and biting at him like I’m starving. I’m overwhelmed by the taste of him, the salt of his sweat from the long hike and the intense spicy, metallic flavor of him.

As I devour his perfect ass, he spits on my dick and starts stroking me. He leans down, his breath hot and close to me, but then bites my hip. He bites it again harder until I can feel the sharp pang that signals I’m bleeding. He sucks at the wound, still stroking me.

He stands suddenly, and I whimper. I fucking whimper when he takes his ass away from me. I wish I was his chair. I wish he could just sit on my face forever. I start to sit up, trying to get back to that perfect ass he so rudely took from me. He turns around, and he’s lowering himself on top of me again. He shoves my chest, pushing me back down. His ass grazes my aching cock, and then his hand is on me, guiding me into him.

His insides are scorching hot. So wet and so tight that I can’t move or else I’ll just come. I whimper again. He begins to grind against me, a swivel of his hips that feels incredible. I look at his pair of cocks and grab hold of them, one in each hand. I start pumping his cocks, trying to focus on him instead of just the sensation of him riding me.

He bucks against me, throwing his head back and growling wildly. He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I pick up the pace on his cocks, trying to push him over the edge, desperate to see him come. I don’t know if I’ll be able to outlast him.

“Jay-den!” I go over the edge, unable to keep myself from coming. He grins wide, looking down at me, but doesn’t let up. I focus on keeping my hands moving as he keeps riding me. He leans down, kissing me and then biting me on the cheek again. As he bites down, I feel his cocks pulse in my hands. He sits up, and I can see that my chest is splattered in thick ropes of pale blue cum. He slowly eases off of me, standing over me.

“You look beautiful.” He says softly, his eyes raking across my ravaged body. I am bloody, bruised and covered in cum. “Can I take a picture of you like this?” My cock stirs, and I can feel my cheeks flush.

“I… if you want.” I am embarrassed and turned on. He bends over slightly to get out his PADD, and I can see the sparkling sheen of my cum starting to slowly seep down his inner thigh. He takes a picture of me and smiles.

“Would you… May I send it to Kyle? He… he would be interested to see.”

My face feels like it’s burning.

“He’s not going to be upset?”

“Definitely not. I have… similar pictures of him. I can ask him if he is comfortable with me sharing those with you. He has also taken some pictures of me… if you are interested.”

“You can send it to him.”

“Thank you.” He taps on the PADD for a bit, then it sets it down. “We should go clean ourselves. After, I will repair your injuries.”

“Sure, Jay-den.” I ease up off the bedroll, slowly standing next to him. He gently puts an arm around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss. As we part, he reaches a hand up to cup my face, running his thumb across my cheek where he bit me. His touch is gentle, but it still stings when he does it. He definitely left a mark.

“I would… would you be comfortable if I left this mark on you?” He looks between the mark and my eyes. Something about how he asks tells me he’s nervous about it.

“Is it so your parents can see it? So they know?” He nods. “Did you mark Kyle like that when he was here?”

“I marked Kyle like that before I introduced him to them. I wanted to be clear who he was to me.”

“But you didn’t want to do that with me.”

“Kyle is not their son. And I was not sure if you would wish to do this with me, given that I was not ending my connection to Kyle. I wanted them to know you as yourself, as their son.”

I hesitate a long time, searching his eyes.

“I don’t deserve you.” My voice is quieter than I intend, and I can feel a burning in my eyes like I might cry.

“A foolish sentiment, qamoghwI’oy. People do not deserve love. It is given, not earned. You gave me kindness and care even before you gave me friendship. You have given me love. I give you mine in return.” He kisses me again, slow and tender.

“Leave the mark.” He smiles and runs his thumb across the mark again.