Read Online A Matter of Oaths by Helen S. Wright - Free Book Online Page B

Rafe ’ s
belly. Rafe moaned in eager anticipation and Joshim paused to look up at his
face.
    “ Did you say
something? ” he teased.
    Rafe said something that showed scant respect for Joshim ’ s rank. Joshim tutted and settled
himself lower between Rafe ’ s thighs.
Playful and delightfully noisy, he amended as Rafe answered to his lips and
tongue. The final yell would have woken the whole ship were it not for the
soundproofing of the cabins.
    He lay with his head on Rafe ’ s thighs afterwards, listening to his breathing move into the even
cadence of sleep. Rafe had a rare gift for knowing when words were needed, and
when silence was right; he was a comfortable person to be silent with, and if
he fell asleep without words, it was because he trusted Joshim to know what
might have been said.
    He had a gift too for enjoying himself, for drawing every
drop of pleasure out of a moment before moving to the next. Joshim smiled at
the memory. There had been no haste when they closed the cabin door behind
them. A slow undressing, each savouring the initial revelation of the other ’ s body outside the discipline of the
web, exploring with the eyes before they touched. A gentle embrace, kissing with
none of their earlier urgency, moving to the bed, searching for the words and
the caresses that brought response, building a language to be shared between
them:“This? ” “ Yes. ” “ And
this? ” “ Oh, please, yes! ”
    Joshim slipped off the bed, careful not to disturb the
sleeper, and said his evening prayers in front of the Arura in the niche behind
his desk. Late, but then they often were, and he could not believe in a deity
who required stopwatch accuracy, any more than he really believed in a deity
who would hear his prayers. Prayer was a reaffirmation of belief; the Arura was
a visible symbol of that belief; a deity, or thousands of them, were only other
symbols, necessary because his mind was too limited to comprehend the reality
behind them. How many reincarnations would it take before he progressed beyond
the need for those particular symbols? He stroked the curves of the Arura,
thinking that he would keep one even when he no longer needed it, amused by his
sudden, unusual introspection. There is a reason for every question, but not
necessarily an answer, he reminded himself as he lay down beside Rafe to sleep.

     
    * * *

     
    A face. A succession of faces, or were they all the same
face? They flashed in and out of focus, mouthing snatches of speech that were
sounds, not words. Rafe tried desperately to cling to one of them, any one of
them, to hear what was said, to see the face clearly. The effort drove the
dream away and he was lying in the dark with nothing left.
    A dim light came on, making him blink, and there was a face
looking down on him. He struggled to put a name to it, knowing that he knew
one, not knowing what it was. He squeezed his eyes shut and swore in
frustration.
    “ Rafe? ”
    The voice triggered memory. Joshim. Rafe opened his eyes
again and tried his own voice. “ Sorry.
Nightmare. ” He sat up and rested his
chin on his knees. “ Did I wake you? ”
    “ Yes. ” It was not a complaint. Joshim put his
arm across Rafe ’ s shoulders and
squeezed briefly. “ Tell me? ”
    Rafe shrugged. “ I
wish I could. There isn ’ t anything to
tell. Nothing I can remember, ” he
added sardonically.
    “ Your father? ” Joshim guessed.
    “ The Commander
told you? ”
    “ She mentioned it. ”
    “ There ’ s no proof that he is my father. Or
anything else to me. And if you ’ d
asked me before I went to sleep, I would have said it didn ’ t bother me at all. ” Rafe smiled with difficulty. “ Obviously,
I would have been wrong. Something must have triggered that nightmare. ”
    “ How often do you
have them? ”
    “ Not often, now. ” Rafe sighed. “ Immediately after I was wiped, they came every night. Now, it ’ s once or twice a