Chapter 7
Kenji eyed the strange medical equipment scattered in the biolab, while Qylar prepared to take the blood sample.
A few of the items looked somewhat familiar to human devices, but most he couldn’t determine their use.
His knee started bouncing as he waited for the needle prick, his nerves getting the better of him.
I might actually be an alien. Like, for real… not some made up fantasy in my head.
The thought had occurred to him before, but more in a flippant, wanting to be Kal-El, comic nerd kind of way.
Actually, he considered himself both Superman and Aquaman, rolled into one.
He had to be both, obviously, because Arthur Curry had been the son of an Atlantean queen, not an alien, so that part had to come from good old Clark Kent.
Yeah, he was a dork and a weirdo, but his imagination was one of the few things he could keep from foster home to foster home, and it didn’t need to be tossed into a garbage bag to travel.
He’d used it well and came up with fabulous backstories for himself to keep from being sad or lonely.
By his mid-teens, when he was unable to sleep because he lived in a noisy, shitty group home—that imagination was sometimes the only thing that got him through the worst nights.
He became a pervy little hornball because of it, too.
When coming to terms with his homosexuality, the idea of two men being able to procreate had lodged in his brain for some reason.
After that, he came to the realization he couldn’t be a Kal-El/Arthur combo, so he figured that meant he had to be the byproduct of the heroes’ torrid love affair.
Arthur had magic, so it could possibly work, right?
If aliens could exist, theoretically, so could mpreg.
Later, he’d found fanfic featuring those two men having romantic, kinky sex online—and also learned he wasn’t the only one with that particular superhero kink, which had been oddly comforting considering the isolation he felt over his freakish abilities.
There had been a lot of even wilder fantasies to blossom in his brain after reading what was in other people’s heads.
Then DC had come out with Man of Steel and Aquaman.
Cavill and Momoa soon had recurring roles in his nightly journey of queer discovery.
Now, he learned he might actually be an alien after all. Maybe not a superhero or mutant, but so what? Being an alien would be just as cool and not a fantasy.
But it would also be terrifying.
He struggled enough simply surviving on one planet and living up to its expectations.
Now he might have to contend with two? It sounded like a whole lot more of other people’s bullshit to deal with.
If Qylar and his friend had chosen to live on Earth instead of Nefyria, maybe that planet was even more fucked.
“Ready?”
Qylar’s question pulled him from his rambling thoughts. He sat up straighter and held out his arm.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Qylar lifted something that looked closer to one of those ear piercers from the junk jewelry stores at the mall.
“That’s been cleaned properly and won’t give me some alien disease, right?”
Qylar eyed him. “You sat there and watched me sterilize it.”
I wasn’t paying attention! “Yeah… okay.”
“I’m not giving you a shot of danger juice, I promise. I just need a few drops of blood and you’re done.”
Qylar wrapped his large, warm hand around Kenji’s narrow wrist and tugged it closer.
The scorch of heat against Kenji’s skin sent a thrill through him, just as it had when Qylar had snagged his hand earlier.
He looked up through his eyelashes and watched Qylar, wondering if the guy felt the same thrill as he did.
Kenji couldn’t tell. Qylar was focused on his task.
When his gaze lifted and met Kenji’s, a hint of surprise seemed to flash in his eyes before they darkened.
The pupils opened, and his nostrils flared.
Kenji’s gaze dipped a bit, and he noticed the quickening rise and fall of Qylar’s chest. Slowly, he dragged his gaze back, pausing at Qylar’s lips, yearning for another of his drugging kisses.
When their eyes locked again, the static electricity building between them took his breath away.
Yet Qylar didn’t swoop in for a kiss, no matter how much he silently begged him to.
He should just make the first move. It was obvious Qylar wouldn’t say no…
but for some reason he couldn’t move. He sat there like an idiot, longing for what he could easily take.
I did just tell him to slow down. Might be a bit hypocritical to suddenly jump his bones.
“It won’t be long now,” Qylar said, his voice raw and stretched thin by want.
“You have to take my blood first,” Kenji said, lifting his arm higher.
“I already did,” Qylar said, one brow rising.
Kenji glanced at his arm, frowning. “You did?”
“I did,” Qylar said, pointing at a tiny clear patch covering a pinprick of bright red on his upper bicep.
“I didn’t feel a thing,” Kenji said, turning his gaze back to the infinitely better view. “You must know what you’re doing.”
“I had a little medic training from my time in the Nefyrian Services.”
“And that is?”
“Think the UN Peacekeeping Forces, but in space.” Qylar smiled. “Cryss and I flew relief and rescue missions across the Nefyrian Empire for a good deal of our twenties. If there was a catastrophe in the realm, we went in with supplies and aid as soon as possible—or ran evac in the worst cases.”
“Sounds heroic,” Kenji said.
Maybe it was Qylar who was Superman in their story.
“When did you come live on Earth?”
“Cryss and I spent many summers and holidays here, from the time we were quite young. Before the chaos and my father was dethro—” Qylar paused a second, frowning. “We crash landed our ship nearly a decade ago and have been here more or less since.”
No wonder he sounds like he’s from here. Wait…
“Dethroned?”
Qylar’s face grew pinched.
“Was your father a king or something?”
“Was being the operative word,” Qylar said, his jaw tight.
“That means you were a prince,” Kenji said. He chuckled. “That tracks.”
Qylar’s brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re polished… poised… You carry yourself like royalty. Dethroned or not.” He needed to add intimidating, overwhelming, and utterly addictive to that list. Pop a crown on him and he was the perfect romance novel hero. Gay romance novel hero, which made him all the more delicious.
Or better yet—BL manga. With that strong jaw and his killer looks, Qylar’s face deserved illustrations to go along with the story so readers could see what all the fuss was truly about.
“Regardless, I’m simply a servant now,” Qylar said, his jaw tight. “Nothing more.”
There was nothing simple about Qylar.
“I have nothing to give someone. No name. No honor. No…” Qylar dragged his gaze away. “Nothing.”
“You have your heart.”
Qylar’s gaze whipped to his, eyes widening.
“Maybe you’ll find someone to give that to one day.”
A hint of a curl at the corners of Qylar’s mouth set his heart racing.
“Maybe I will,” Qylar whispered, the husky tenor of it making Kenji’s bits and bobs take more notice.
Considering they’d been walking around naked since they’d gotten inside the ship, he couldn’t hide it, either. His hard-on thickened the more he grew embarrassed about Qylar seeing it.
“What do your people think… about your kind… and humans…” His face warmed as he placed his hands in his lap and did his best to cover himself. “You know… mixing?” Can you be any more obvious, Kenji? “If I’m Nefyrian, will I be accepted by them?”
“Technically, it’s against the law for us to mate a human.”
The air was knocked from Kenji’s lungs. “I’m illegal?”
“Not exactly,” Qylar said. “As I said, your planet is our protectorate, and we have strict laws governing that. We’re only allowed to observe.
Think of Star Trek and their Prime Directive.
We protect Earth from outside invasion but aren’t allowed to hinder the progression of your society, even if that means sitting back while one nation destroys another or a worldwide pandemic spreads.
It’s incredibly challenging, especially now living here as citizens ourselves, but we cannot interfere when we aren’t human. ”
“What if a man had a heart attack right in front of you? You’d allow him to suffer and die?”
“But what if that man is this world’s next Hitler and saving him causes millions to perish?”
“Oh, come on,” Kenji said.
“I won’t say that we haven’t crossed the line a bit.
Here and there. Cryss and I have done what we can without raising alarms with the Interstellar Embassy.
For instance—when the wildfires raged, we used our experience with rescue missions to assist. We evacuated people, worked in food tents, and sent in small shipments of necessary supplies wherever we could.
Amid the chaos, we could hide among the aid workers for a bit.
If we did more than that, we could be noticed and find ourselves facing an Embassy tribunal. ”
“That sucks that your hands are tied, but I’m glad you’ve found ways to help.”
Qylar nodded. “Part of that no interference dictate also means we’re not allowed to have intimate relationships with humans. We can live here. Observe. Collect data. We can even go so far as having friendships, though it’s supposed to be under the lens of scientific study.”
“The night we shared isn’t considered an intimate relationship?”
Qylar fought a smile. “As I said… we cross the line here and there.”
Kenji fought one of his own.