Chapter 22
“You’re very late.” Katrina was already in bed. Though she’d left one candle lit for him. It cast a small gold glow over the table while leaving the rest of the room in shadows, except for the fireplace where flames danced over the log.
“I was helping the king write a letter to management. There’s a big Samhain party happening next week.
” It sounded like a lame excuse when it left his lips, probably because it was, but he didn’t want to share that he had just been railed by the king.
Especially after they had agreed to keep it quiet.
Once he left home, he’d never hidden that he was gay, or was that bi or pan? But he’d never flaunted it either. It was no one’s business unless they were trying to get in his pants.
His underwear was slick, and his ass ached because it had been a while. It also was not how he had planned the conversation to go. Not only that, but he hadn’t asked about condoms or anything. He didn’t even know if they existed here, so he wasn’t sure how to ask.
“I heard. Is everyone invited?”
“No, only three from management. The party in the palace is for the officials who run the…local governments.” Ul had explained how the Felloi was divided into areas and that each area had someone who reported directly to him.
“He said that he would encourage the farmers to invite everyone else. Do you want to go back to the platform?” He picked up the candle off the table, so he’d have some light to wash by, and started toward the screen.
“I put your bucket of water in front of the fire so it would stay warm. I put my bucket by the toilet.” She rolled over, and he assumed it was to give him some privacy.
While the bath had been filled the first night, since then it was clear that filling the bath was a big deal and that no water came out of the tap—what was the point of a tap if there was no water?
—so they were limited to one bucket of hot water to wash in.
As much as he wanted a proper shower, it was enough. Or had been, tonight he wasn’t so sure.
He stripped off, dropping the tunic to one side, and peeled off his underwear, balling them up to be dealt with after. He used the cloth and the tepid water to clean himself, remembering the way Ul had wiped his dick on the inside of his tunic before it softened and slipped back into the slit.
Dawson wanted to watch as it came out. He remembered the way it had wrapped around his shaft when they had been in the rock pool, and he’d felt it moving inside his ass, and not in the way some guys jackhammered.
It had been more like the world’s deepest fingering, fucking the cum out of him and leaving him both wanting more, and unable to stand another touch.
Add in Ul’s use of tentacles to hold him and touch him, and those suckers around his hole…
He bit his lower lip, and his ass clenched as if wanting more of those kisses.
He scrubbed his underwear and socks in the bucket.
Whatever they put in the water gave it a sharp scent, which he assumed was for cleaning purposes because he was not smelling funky from a lack of showers or even full baths.
Even his socks and briefs were going okay with the buck washes.
He spread the clothing out on the hearth next to Katrina’s and got into bed.
He would much rather be getting into Ul’s bed, though there was nothing subtle about that. If he did, it was admitting they were sleeping together, and Dawson was fairly sure neither of them was ready for the gossip to grow legs and run when they weren’t ready to walk.
What would management say?
Would they make him return to the platform even though he was the one who’d taught the king English, or at least spoken so he could learn himself? But now that Ul spoke English, anyone could do the job of taking down his letters.
He wasn’t that important.
His only use was making Ul’s freckles turn pink.
Was Ul only keeping him around until he decided what he was going to do about the heir situation?
Once again, he found himself bound up in tentacles, only these ones were of his own making.
He was afraid of being asked to stay and of being asked to leave.
He was worried about fathering children he’d never see, and fathering children he needed to raise when he knew nothing about raising a child of any sort.
He was scared about what was going on in the rest of the world and returning to that mayhem, while at the same time, scared of remaining here and missing out.
His life plan had always been to make enough money that he wasn’t worried where his next meal was coming from. And he’d achieved that. He even had a savings account…not that it was going to do him any good on Felloi.
The boat would come, and he would need to decide—or it would be decided for him by Ul—it was only then he realized Katrina had never answered. Perhaps she was desperate to return to the platform and be surrounded by other humans who were all waiting to be rescued.
He wasn’t waiting to be rescued.
He stared at the ceiling. If the boat never came, he didn’t care. He wanted to keep living in this weird limbo where everything was possible and nothing was certain. Which was terrifying and liberating.