Seeing is Believing (23 page)

Samson turned back to the bed, carefully avoiding stepping on his discarded pants, the fabric might have been soft, but it was also slippery. Haven was watching him with a sad smile, and Samson wondered at the expression for a moment before deciding it needed to be banished.

Running his hand up Haven's thigh, Samson bent over the bed, drawing him into another kiss. Haven kissed him slowly, letting his hands slide down Samson's sides and then up his front. Samson went straight for Haven's cock, resuming the slow teasing strokes he'd been using before. Haven moaned softly into his mouth, his hips rocking towards Samson enticingly.

"Prop your legs up," Samson directed, whisper-soft into Haven's ear. Haven shuddered pleasantly, but did as he was told. It was always a marvel—so many of his customers wanted to dominate, to be in control. That he was usually bigger than them only made them want it more. Haven, though, surrendered control completely. It was humbling, the amount of trust that Haven gave him, especially considering who Haven was.

He'd heard the rumors. Haven was formidable and cold, but deadly efficient in his running of the city. That it was little wonder he so frequently visited Samson, yet another way to show his power and all. Except Samson saw none of it. Haven had submitted since the first, had all but
begged
to be taken the first time he'd come around.

Samson fetched the little crystal jar of oil he'd let fall to the bedspread. Popping the top, he slicked his fingers. Haven watched him avidly, his eyes never leaving Samson's face. Samson smiled slowly, returning a hand to gently tease at Haven's cock even as his fingers teased his entrance. Haven didn't so much as blink, just squirmed a little closer, and Samson obligingly slid his fingers in more quickly.

Haven inhaled sharply, his fingers fisted in Samson's bedspread as Samson worked his fingers carefully, knowingly, because he'd done this enough that he knew exactly how to move his fingers to drive Haven insane. Haven twisted his hips, trying to get him to stop teasing, but Samson persisted, slowly twisting his fingers in and out.

"Samson," Haven gasped out, and Samson stopped teasing at his cock and let his fingers still, buried deep inside him. Haven gave him a dark look, but Samson stared back unperturbed. Haven would want to come while Samson's cock was in him, after all.

Samson pulled his fingers out slowly, dispelling the dark look. Haven's head fell back, and Samson watched his chest rise and fall rapidly for a moment before fetching the oil again. It was the work of a moment to slick himself, and Samson drew his attention back by gently stroking his thigh again.

"Face down?" He offered, but Haven shook his head vehemently.

"Facing. I want to see you," Haven refuted quickly, and Samson got the feeling he was missing something. Deciding it wasn't really important, he gestured for Haven to scoot back on the bed. Haven wiggled across the bedspread, bunching it up as he moved.

Samson knelt on the bed, pausing only to take a quick, burning kiss before positioning himself. Haven moaned softly as he pushed in, his hands moving to grip Samson's shoulders tightly. His eyes were locked on Samson's face though, and Samson paused for the merest fraction of a second before beginning to move.

Haven met him for every thrust, and Samson tried to focus on giving Haven exactly what he wanted and needed. Wrapping a hand around Haven's cock, Samson stroked in time to his thrusts, pleased when Haven started moving more erratically beneath him and stuttered out a long moan that might have been his name.

Samson was struggling to breathe, but he didn't slow down, feeling Haven begin to tense. Haven's fingers dug into his shoulders more tightly—that would leave marks, but Samson didn't care—and Samson moved faster, thrust harder, trying to drive Haven over the edge with as much force as he could.

Haven took it, too breathless to utter a single syllable, and Samson ducked his head, claiming a quick kiss and Haven tensed completely, spilling warm and sticky into his hand. Samson gave a few last thrusts and let himself go, spilling himself deep inside of Haven.

Haven released his shoulders, moving instead to cup his face and draw him close for a few quick, breathless kisses. Samson smiled, pleased and more than willing to wallow for a few moments in the pleasant haze Haven always induced.

"I can't stay," Haven murmured against his lips when he caught enough air. Samson nodded, swallowing the disappointment that welled up. Haven kissed him again, and Samson wished he could protest and keep Haven here for the entire evening, like usual. Haven caressed his face gently, smiling softly, and Samson smiled back.

"I like it when you stay longer," Samson replied boldly, and Haven's smile widened and he teased at Samson's hair with gentle fingers.

"I like it when I stay longer," Haven admitted, and Samson's smile grew.

"Hmm, next week," Samson decided, carefully pulling out. Haven shivered, but let Samson pull him into a sitting position gently. Samson went about cleaning them up, letting Haven steal a few kisses and taking a few of his own. Then he set about helping Haven dress, more than content to help Haven where he wouldn't necessarily help other clients.

"Remember to open your present when I leave," Haven reminded as Samson helped him shrug on his jacket. Samson did up the buttons slowly, favoring Haven with a heated look that made him smile sadly.

"Whatever you're about, be careful," Samson admonished, gently touching Haven's cheek. "I wouldn't like to see you hurt."

Haven's smile brightened and he drew Samson close for another kiss. "Walk me to the door," he requested, and Samson's eyebrows rose. It wasn't unusual, but it wasn't usual, either.

"Alright," Samson agreed, retrieving his pants and pulling them on quickly. He took Haven's offered arm, guiding him out of the room and down the hallway. Haven didn't say a word, his touch warm on Samson's bare arm, and Samson smiled benignly as they passed some of the brothel's other occupants.

"Thank you, Samson," Haven murmured as they reached the front door. Samson opened the door for him, unsurprised to see the governor's carriage already parked and waiting for Haven. Samson ducked his head for one last kiss before letting Haven go. Haven hesitated, touching his cheek softly before smiling sadly one last time and turning away.

Samson watched him go, hoping there would be a next week to make Haven happier. He waited until Haven was inside the carriage to shut the door, and then loitered until the carriage pulled away.

It took but a minute to return to his room, and Samson immediately moved to Haven's present. Haven didn't often bring him presents, no matter what the other courtesans believed and hoped to get from netting him. Samson never minded—Haven himself was enough of a present.

Untying the scroll, Samson unrolled it slowly, letting the ribbon fall to the table. Reading the note quickly, Samson stared at the little piece of paper in shock. He re-read it twice more, to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, and finally set it aside woodenly.

Opening the box, Samson carefully pulled out a fine outfit—pants, shirt, jacket, even
shoes
—and a little pouch of money.

The door opened, and Samson turned automatically, still holding the little velvet pouch of coins.

"I had to come back," Haven said, his anxiety written far too plainly on his face.

"You bought my freedom," Samson replied, wondering how in the world Haven had come to that.

"I did," Haven affirmed. "I had to."

"Why?" Samson asked, shaking his head. It didn't make sense—Haven had been coming here for nearly two years. "Why now?"

"I was afraid. That you'd say no, and then I'd lose you forever," Haven replied candidly, running a hand through his hair and mussing it further. "I was going to give it to you first, but I couldn't bear the idea … I wanted you one last time, in case you did hate me."

"I don't hate you," Samson murmured, setting down the money pouch. "And I'd be a fool to say no to you."

Haven met his eyes, clearly startled. Samson smiled slowly, crossing the room to him.

"I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you," Samson declared. Haven smiled slowly, his anxiety slipping away visibly.

"Truly?" he asked, and Samson pulled him close and kissed him with as much force as he could muster.

"If you would have me, I am yours," Samson declared, and Haven kissed him again, hard and desperately.

"Come home with me," Haven requested, but he didn't let Samson go. Samson smiled slowly, pressing his lips to Haven's forehead.

"Of course," Samson murmured, and he slipped away from Haven's grasp, leaving him with a quick kiss before moving to dress in real clothing for the first time in years.

There were three types of workers in the shipyards. There were the lifers, those that had been working there forever and would continue to work there until they died. There were the itinerants, the ones that would come, work for a few months and then disappear in the middle of the night.

And then there were those like Kaij, who had been manipulated into signing long contracts promising their services for term after term. Kaij had only been sixteen when his mother had 'lost' him in the spaceport of a planet devoted entirely to building ships that were sold throughout the four quadrants. Within hours, he'd been conscripted without realizing what it meant, and he'd been working at building ships ever since.

Kaij swore blisteringly as sparks showered down from the level above him, winking out as they landed on the dissipater pad beneath his feet.

"Fuck! Berdric!" Kaij shouted, glaring up through the mesh walkway that Berdric stood on. The Telsken just waved jauntily, but he turned down the power output on his fuser before going back to his work.

Kaij rolled his eyes, annoyed still as he turned back to the section of hull he was trying to bolt into place. It was slightly warped, likely left too long near the power generators, and Kaij had to lean against it with all his weight as he twisted the securing bolts into place. Berdric would come by later and fuse the plates together, but they needed to be perfectly aligned in the meantime.

Kaij glared as another spark drifted past, flickering out. Berdric shut off his fuser before Kaij could speak up though, so Kaij let it go, focusing on bending the metal sheet into place as he listened to Berdric's boots pound down the rickety metal construct ladder.

"Quittin' time, Kaij," Berdric announced loudly over the slowly quieting din around them. Kaij ignored Berdric for a moment, fixing the last bolt into place before standing. Grimacing, he followed Berdric's huge form off the racks and down to the check-out point.

They were both covered with sweat; the shipyard's owners didn't believe in doing anything to the air except making sure it was breathable, which meant that it was always sweltering inside the dry docks.

Kaij grimaced, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. It did no good, and he probably simply smeared whatever grease or dirt he'd managed to pick up during his shift across his skin.

Quitting time meant drinking time; there was little else to do here. The only facilities not devoted to the manufacturing of spaceships were the bars and the worker's barracks. He
could
go back to his room and stare at the walls, but that got boring after about ten seconds, so Kaij went out and drank.

Following Berdric out of the compound, he stared up at the gray sky with annoyance. Rain meant no outside work. The ships were assembled deck by deck inside the large compounds, to protect the delicate circuitry they were built around, but once that step was complete the decks were brought outside to be fused together. The completed ships flew out under their own power, gating out into any of the four quadrants to be sold.

Scowling in annoyance, Kaij rubbed a hand over the soft fuzz of his hair and took a deep breath of the cooler air outside the stifling ship compound. He hated working inside—the sounds were too loud and there was nothing that could distract him like a cool breeze would.

"I hear Kesnii's havin' a fit because you haven't talked to her since last week," Berdric announced as they made their way towards the transport that would take them downtown.

"I couldn't care less what Kesnii's doing." Kaij replied belatedly, as they took seats on the transport, crowded with dozens more workers from their shift. Kaij sat down heavily in one of the stiff, uncomfortable seats that lined the transport's wall, ignoring the stench of sweat and metal that always flavored the transports.

Berdric laughed, throwing himself into the seat next to Kaij heavily. "It's only 'cause she thinks you're the prettiest bit of space trash here."

Kaij rolled his eyes and returned to ignoring Berdric. The Telsken wasn't his friend—Kaij didn't make friends—but he was the one that Kaij most often got stuck working with. Settling in for the five minute trip, Kaij let his mind drift. He half-hoped Kensii would show up tonight. She knew where he frequented after hours and he'd be able to get a fight and possibly sex out of her.

Maybe he should simply return to his room, though. Except that returning to his room would open him up to thinking again, and he'd already thought everything he could possibly think without going insane. Best to simply distract himself with alcohol, because he'd slip otherwise.