Guys In College

GUYS IN. COLLEGE A collection of short stories by Matthew Haldeman-Time Table of Contents. Introduction 1 Incredible...

Author: Haldeman-Time Matthew

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GUYS IN. COLLEGE A collection of short stories by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Table of Contents. Introduction

1

Incredible

2

Stupid Question

14

Purple and Magenta

24

Ten Weird Things

31

Cool

60

Cruel, Cruel World

67

Two Bodies

73

In This Land

121

A word from the author

192

All stories copyright 2004, 2005, and 2006 by Matthew Haldeman-Time and published at MatthewHaldemanTime.com.

Introduction

This collection of short stories is taken from my website, MatthewHaldemanTime.com. I noticed that I had similar themes running through my work - - a lot of stories about guys in college, some located in the workplace, others centered around cars - - so I decided to group them together into tidy little sets. This particular set of stories features college students. You’ll meet Jason, a goth artist, and Trent, a superb athlete, in “Incredible” and its sequel, “Stupid Question.” The next story, “Purple and Magenta,” takes place in the library, as Austin tries to study. No collection of college-based erotica would be complete without a set of roommates, so read “Ten Weird Things,” where freshman Eric figures out how to get closer to his new roommate, David. Then we’re back in the library again for “Cool” with boyfriends Ryan and Danny. After lightening things up in the dining hall in “Cruel, Cruel World,” we move on to “Two Bodies,” where Cory teaches Bruce a bit about physics. At the end of this book, you’ll find the beginning of my web series, “In This Land.” Read the introduction first, to let one of the series’ characters give you a bit of an explanation, and then delve right in! You can read the rest of “In This Land,” and a lot more fiction, at my site, MatthewHaldemanTime.com. Thank you!

www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

1

Incredible

Jason walked ten rows up the bleachers, ten steps over, and sat. The school’s indoor pool was deserted, and he enjoyed the solitude as he withdrew his sketch pad from his backpack. Rummaging in the bottom of his bag for a pencil, he heard the door to the boys’ locker room slam open. Deliberately ignoring the noise of the swim team, Jason flipped his book open to a fresh page and began to draw. The humidity, the smell of chlorine, the echoing shouts and splash of water - - Trent was at home. He stretched slightly, shaking his muscles loose. “Hey, Langley.” Butch Lavery elbowed him, nodding towards the bleachers. “Looks like the goth boy is back.” Trent had noticed Jason immediately. The guy was there every day. Trent didn’t know why; Jason was just there, drawing or writing or whatever it was that he did, every time that they came to practice. He did look pretty goth, too. He dressed in all black, with heavy black boots and silver jewelry. He didn’t have even a hint of a tan. His dyed black hair was close-cropped, with long, redstreaked bangs. Trent saw him around sometimes, but they’d never spoken to each other. Personally, Trent thought that Jason was kind of hot, but that wasn’t Butch’s business. Butch already thought that he had crappy taste in guys. “Maybe he likes swimming,” Trent said. That didn’t seem likely, and Butch gave him a look. “Maybe this is just somewhere he can hang out without being bothered.” “Maybe he’s a freak,” Butch suggested. “Maybe you’re a freak,” Trent suggested. “He’s not bothering anybody, so shut up.” Butch grinned. “Crush much?” There was no way to respond to that without inviting more harassment, so Trent just pushed Butch into the pool. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

2

Incredible Jason had been in the bleachers for every practice, all season. He hadn’t missed one, and he was never late. He only left after all of the guys had gone back into the locker room to change. While they swam, he sketched. Usually he drew Trent Langley. Trent’s strong jaw and high cheekbones itched to be adored, but Jason couldn’t get over those incredible green eyes. They were a bright, clear green with long, lush, gold-tipped lashes. Jason hadn’t been given many chances to get all that physically close to Trent, but he’d managed to be just close enough just often enough to become mesmerized by those eyes. Trent’s dark blond hair was shaved down to peach fuzz. He let it grow out between seasons, but while he was swimming he got rid of it. Jason respected the fact that Trent’s commitment to the sport was stronger than his vanity. Jason didn’t stare at the swimmers. He kept his gaze on his sketchbook, for the most part, raising his eyes to look through the fall of his long, redstreaked bangs, keeping his head down so that he couldn’t be accused of watching. He didn’t watch the swim team as a whole; he watched Trent. He watched Trent swim like a fish and kick everybody else’s ass. Jason smiled as Trent, with his usual technique, touched the wall over a body length before everyone else. Trent hauled himself out of the pool, vaguely listening to the coach’s post-practice instructions, keeping one eye on Jason. Ever since he’d noticed Jason hanging around the bleachers, he’d been more aware of Jason’s presence around campus. They’d crossed paths at the library recently, and even though Jason had seemed entirely oblivious to his presence, he’d watched Jason a lot longer and with a lot more attention than was probably normal. Seeing Jason around the pool with this kind of regularity made Trent curious. He wondered why Jason hung out there. There had to be a reason. Jason wasn’t there on days that the team didn’t practice; Trent had come by twice to check. He wasn’t friends with anyone on the team; Trent had discreetly asked, and Butch had indiscreetly asked, and no one really even knew the guy. Trent kind of thought that he’d like to get to know the guy. The team was heading back into the locker room. Jason spent an extra second defining the water droplets cascading from Trent’s back as he climbed out of the pool, then closed his sketchpad and, oh, shit. Now what? Jason eased www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

3

Incredible his sketchpad back into his backpack, dropping his pencil inside, as Trent Langley himself strolled up the stands with a casual smile. Jason zipped his bag shut, rising to his feet. Trent wore only a bathing suit, and that left a lot of naked skin available to Jason’s gaze. His long body was lean and firm, his pecs defined and his abs tight. Jason had no idea how Trent could feel that comfortable walking around that naked, but apparently he was used to it. Trent stopped on the stairs, leaning back against the handrail, keeping a polite distance. “Hey. You a swim fan?” Jason brought his bag over his shoulder, committed to keeping, “No, but I’m stalking you,” out of the conversation. “It’s not bad,” he said. Trent grinned. “Yeah? Yeah, it’s okay.” Jason tried not to smile. He failed, though, and when he gave in and smiled back, Trent’s smile increased. “You coming to the meet this weekend?” Trent asked. “No.” There was no way that his friends would accept that. Getting caught at a swim meet? No way. win.”

Trent’s smiled dimmed. “It wouldn’t suck,” he said. “We’re going to “No kidding,” Jason said. Trent laughed. “You have that much confidence in us?”

say it.

“I’ve seen you swim.” He meant Trent specifically, but he didn’t have to

“Well, thanks.” That smile was back. “I’m Trent,” he said, offering his hand, stepping forward. “Langley.” “Jason,” Jason said, and shook his hand. “Holtz.” “Maybe I’ll see you around,” Trent said. “Yeah,” Jason said, taking his hand back. “Maybe.” Trent gave him a casual smile and jogged down the stairs. That bathing suit was cut so low, Jason had no idea how Trent’s dick stayed tucked inside it. He never tugged on it, either, so apparently he wasn’t at all self-conscious about having his entire body on display. That night, Jason’s dreams were filled with the scent of chlorine as he gazed into green eyes and licked drops of water from Trent’s gorgeous, naked body. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

4

Incredible That weekend, Trent scanned the bleachers at the meet. He didn’t see Jason anywhere. After practice, Trent caught Jason just as he was stepping down from the bleachers onto the concrete. At 6’4”, Trent was at least six inches taller, and when Jason looked up at him, they both froze in place. Jason’s intense, dark eyes were made even more dramatic with eyeliner, and there was something guarded yet aggressive about his expression. Trent wanted him. He was mysterious, and so far not a great conversationalist, and seemed to have no interest in Trent whatsoever. But he was pinging all over Trent’s radar in an undeniable way. Trent wanted him. Trent wanted to get him hot and make him come. Trent had been the one to approach, but he wanted Jason to talk first. So he didn’t say anything, taking the opportunity to notice details. Jason wore three necklaces, had five silver earrings in each ear, had four silver rings on his left hand and three on his right, and had “seven p.m.” written in black ink on the back of his right hand, near six black rubber bracelets. Finally, Jason raised his eyebrows. “What?” “What’s at seven?” Trent asked. Jason frowned, like he had no idea what Trent was talking about. His expression cleared somewhat, but he still looked off-balance when he said, “I’m meeting some people at the Burger Stop.” Trent nodded. “Can I come?” Jason’s eyes widened. He seemed to struggle with several responses, but he finally asked, “Why?” Trent wasn’t usually this bold. He wasn’t usually this into someone he didn’t know, either. He wanted guys all of the time, but he was interested in Jason in some weird, primal way. He was interested in who Jason was and what Jason did and how Jason’s life worked and whether Jason could like him back. “I like the Burger Stop.” “It’s almost seven now,” Jason said. Trent grinned. “So let’s go.” Jason’s gaze didn’t drop, but he asked, “Shouldn’t you get dressed first?” Trent couldn’t stop smiling. He was trying to flirt, and it might actually have started working. “If I go into the locker room, you’ll disappear.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

5

Incredible Jason shrugged. “You know where I’ll be going.” It was working. Trent couldn’t believe it, but he didn’t want to question it. “Then maybe after I get dressed, I’ll stop by.” Jason shrugged again. “It’s up to you,” he said, and started to walk on. “Wait.” Trent said it too suddenly, and Jason gave him a suspicious look. “Which Burger Stop?” “The one on Caesar,” Jason said. Trent relaxed. “Okay.” Jason walked away. Trent watched him go. Trent didn’t know which people Jason intended to meet, or how many of them, or for what purpose. He didn’t know if they’d like him or laugh at him. He just hoped that they weren’t going to get in the way of his new quest to be the first swimmer on the team to have a goth boyfriend. Jason didn’t know what the hell to do now. Trent had approached him, again. And flirted with him. Why? Trent had invited himself to hang out with Jason. Why? Did Trent want to be friends with him? That didn’t make sense. He’d deliberately been unfriendly the last time they’d talked, so that Trent wouldn’t come near him again, so that he’d be safe to crush from afar. He had a million fantasies, but he had no idea what he was supposed to do with Trent in reality. Did Trent want to do him? Trent was a very fit, very handsome athlete. Jason was pale and skinny and lacked some social skills. Trent couldn’t possibly want him. Although, what would be the point of flirting with him, then? Jason walked into the Burger Stop, going to the back to sit across the table from Brad and Kate. Brad said hi. Kate offered him her soda. Jason didn’t know what to say. Should he warn them that Trent was coming? Should he not bring it up and hope that if Trent showed up, he could make it a nonissue? Should he get them to leave before Trent arrived? Should he make an escape, himself? “What?” Kate asked. “Stop fidgeting.” Jason stopped twisting his rings and met her eyes. He could trust her, maybe, to play it casual and not make fun of him. He explained, as briefly as possible, too tense to pause for breath. “I have a crush on this guy and he’s on his way here to meet me and hang out but we’ve only talked twice so I don’t know if he’s interested.” 6 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Incredible “What?” Brad asked. “We’ll be cool,” Kate said calmly, like it was no big deal. “What?” Brad asked again, puzzled. Kate ate one of Brad’s fries. “Some guy’s meeting Jason here. They’re trying to hook up.” “Oh,” Brad said. “Whatever.” He went back to drawing a complex tangle of snakes on his arm. “It’s not Rico, is it?” Kate asked. “What?” Jason asked. Then he realized what she meant. “No. God, no.” He’d made out with Rico once, but he’d been drunk and horny and lonely and stupid. She nodded, eating more fries, seeming to dismiss the subject. Her casual disinterest in the subject gave him enough room to say, “It’s Trent Langley.” He knew that she was deliberately giving him space and not pushing, and he appreciated it, but it was still nice to see her eyes widen in quick shock. She choked a little, and Brad glanced up at that, to make sure she was okay, before going back to the snakes. Jason tried not to smile while she took a throat-clearing sip of soda. Kate couldn’t pretend to take things in stride anymore. “The swimmer?” she asked. “The tall blond guy?” “Yeah.” Jason had to smile, now. It felt great to mention Trent to someone. He’d been fixating on the idea of Trent in his head for so long, actually talking about the guy was startlingly freeing. are…”

Kate adjusted her bracelets, studying him. “He’s a swimmer. Swimmers “Joiners?” he suggested, getting ready for an argument. “Jocks?”

“Yeah,” she said, “they are, but I was going to say, swimmers are hot. How’d you meet Trent Langley?” Brad looked up. “Who’s Trent Langley?” tall.”

“That is,” Kate said, looking at something behind Jason. “Damn, he’s

Jason tensed, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder. Had Trent seen him? Was Trent heading in his direction? Was“Hey.” One long, lean, denim-clad thigh entered Jason’s field of view. “Mind if I join you?” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

7

Incredible Jason forced himself to stay cool. He could interact with Trent without shouting, “I’m obsessed with you!” Clearing his throat, he feigned a casual tone, glancing briefly in Trent’s general direction. “There’s room.” “Hey,” Trent said, taking the seat directly beside Jason. “I’m Trent.” and-”

“I’m Kate,” Kate said. “This is Brad. We were just about to go, actually, “We were?” Brad asked, looking up, confused.

“It was great to meet you, though,” she said to Trent as if Brad hadn’t spoken, standing up and pulling on Brad’s elbow to bring him to his feet. “See you later,” she said to Jason with a smile, and picked up her bag, walking away and tugging Brad along. Jason hoped that something really bad would happen to her in the parking lot. Trent smiled, watching Jason deliberately not look at him. Apparently, he’d been on the right path when he’d started flirting back at the pool. Kate wouldn’t have been that obvious about leaving if Jason hadn’t given her some clue that he was interested. Trent wondered what Jason had told her about him. “You must have said something pretty bad about me for her to run out like that the second I showed up,” he said casually, letting his smile color his tone. “Yeah,” Jason said, rubbing one black fingernail over a flaw in the tabletop, his eyes on the movement. “I told her that you’re a swimmer.” Trent chuckled. “That’s a terrible thing?” “Yeah,” Jason said. “She was frightened by chlorine when she was young.” Trent laughed, surprised. Jason glanced at him with equal surprise, maybe at the sound of his laughter, and the direct eye contact made Trent’s body snap to attention. Jason’s gaze lingered. Trent shifted one inch closer. Jason’s gaze…lowered. Trent shifted another inch closer. Jason’s lips parted, slightly. Trent was so hot that he was about to start sweating. “Do you live oncampus?” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

8

Incredible Jason swallowed, still looking at Trent’s body. “Yeah.” His gaze flickered up to meet Trent’s eyes, and he seemed to remember himself at that moment, bringing his guard up. “Why?” Trent wondered how bold he could afford to be. He didn’t know Jason well enough to know whether boldness would be rewarded. He looked into Jason’s intense, dark eyes. “I’d like to see your room.” Jason was visibly suspicious. “Why?” Trent smiled. “I thought maybe I could pick up some decorating tips.” Jason raised his eyebrows. “Decorating tips,” he repeated. “Of course,” Trent said with a smile. “Of course,” Jason said. He looked at Trent for a minute, then shrugged and started to get up. “I’m heading back there now. You can walk with me, if you want.” Trent grinned. He was in. Jason cursed his dick the whole way back to the dorm. He couldn’t believe that he was taking Trent up to his room. He couldn’t believe that he was going to get laid with the star of the swim team. He’d never be able to watch practices again. He was going to have to avoid Trent after this, to avoid embarrassing scenes, to avoid the fact that Trent would be avoiding him. For Trent, this was once-and-done, a one-time thing, a fuck-and-go. Trent wasn’t interested in him, couldn’t actually want to talk to him or hang out, just wanted to get off. And sometimes that was fine, sometimes that was okay, sometimes that was all sex was, but Jason had too much invested in this, had a stupid stupid stupid crush, was practically stalking the guy, was practically obsessed. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be taking Trent back to his room. He shouldn’t be trying to get laid. If he kept hanging around practices after they fucked, he’d look like a pathetic loser. He was going to have to keep his distance. Which was going to fucking suck, and which might also be impossible, because he was a really bad stalker. He liked being close to Trent too much to stay out of sight. But his only alternative to saying yes would have been saying no, and with Trent Langley offering him sex, he couldn’t possibly have said no. Say no? To that?! Trent was gorgeous, Trent had a terrific body, Trent had amazingly green eyes, Trent was hotter than hot. Trent smiled all of the time, Trent made everybody laugh, Trent made a new friend everywhere that he went. Jason had been watching Trent long enough, and closely enough, to know that Trent was the guy everyone liked, the guy who pulled off everything effortlessly, the guy who was fun and popular and always had a good time. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

9

Incredible Jason didn’t know a lot of people like that. He’d never been that way, himself. He didn’t enjoy being the center of attention. He didn’t make friends easily. He didn’t know how to talk to Trent. In his mind, in his fantasies, he always knew what to say to Trent, always said just the right thing that made Trent want him and led to hot sex. In reality, he heard stupid, monosyllabic, defensive things pop right out of his mouth. It had to be coming across to Trent like he was trying to make a bad impression. He didn’t know how to make casual conversation without exposing the fact that he was really, really into Trent and really, really wanted to hook up. Well, even if Trent hadn’t figured out that he wanted to hook up by what he’d said, the fact that he was taking Trent up to his room probably gave it away. He was an idiot. An idiot who was about to get it on with a really hot guy. An idiot who was probably in love or something. Jason would rather never speak again than admit that. Jason hadn’t said anything since they’d left the Burger Stop. Either he had nothing to say to Trent, or he wasn’t much of a talker in general. Trent was okay with that; Trent was determined to make friends with Jason, sooner or later. Before they had sex, or after. They were going to be friends, and they were going to have sex; the order didn’t really matter. Trent had a lot of friends, though. He wanted something else. Something a little more interesting. Something that involved sex and passion and a warm body in his bed. Jason seemed to qualify for the interesting part, at least. The sex part was looking likely. And the passion part, well, Trent was willing to bet that there’d be some of that, too. Jason’s eyes were too intense; Jason seemed to be holding back and restrained. Trent wondered what would happen if those restraints were broken. He followed Jason right into the dorm and into the elevator, taking mental note that they got off on the fifth floor. They walked down the hallway, and without a word, Jason opened a door. Trent stepped in behind Jason, closing the door again. Jason’s dorm room was dark and cluttered, with clothes across one bed and a ragged poster on the wall. “When’s your roommate coming back?” “Not for a while,” Jason said. He flipped on a desk lamp, dropping his bag and shedding his jacket. Pushing back his bangs with one hand, he met Trent’s eyes in the half-light. “What do you do?” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

10

Incredible “Everything,” Trent said, feeling a quick surge of arousal. This was really about to happen. He’d been eyeing Jason for weeks, wondering, but now it was here, it was happening. The first few days he’d seen Jason in the stands, he’d been curious, shrugged, and forgotten about it. The next few days after that he’d been curious, wondered, and waited to see if Jason would keep showing up. Lately, he’d been interested, wondering, and fantasizing. Fantasizing that he could catch Jason’s eye. Fantasizing that he could get Jason’s attention. Fantasizing that he could get Jason alone and naked somewhere. It had happened. He’d gotten Jason’s attention. Now they were alone, and about to be naked, and blood was pumping furiously down into Trent’s groin, his dick hardening fast. This had all been too easy. He wasn’t that suave; he’d gotten here too quickly. He didn’t know how that had happened, but he didn’t have the time to worry about it. He’d figure it out later. After the sex. When Trent grabbed his hips and yanked him forward, pulling him right against Trent’s body and kissing him, Jason made an embarrassing, startled noise and planted his hands against Trent’s chest, curling his fingers into the front of Trent’s shirt and holding on. Trent’s kiss was deep and possessive, and Jason didn’t know whether to try to keep up or just let Trent take over. Trent’s arms wrapping around his waist brought their bodies flush, and Jason moaned at the feel of Trent’s hard body against his as his hands slid up to broad shoulders. He was surrounded by Trent, wrapped in Trent’s arms, against Trent’s firm chest, with Trent’s tongue sleek and erotic in his mouth, Trent’s hands roaming his back and cupping his ass, Trent’s dick hard against his own thickening erection, Trent’s soft, low moans in his ears. He’d never heard Trent moan before. The sound of Trent in pleasure sent heat rushing through Jason’s veins, and he ground his hips against Trent, getting some electrifying dick-to-dick friction that made his skin hot. The throbbing of his dick and the fire in his body made Jason greedy, and he yanked, pulling Trent over himself as he fell back onto the bed. Making a sound like an aroused growl, Trent fastened his mouth to Jason’s neck, sucking feverishly as his hands began to burrow under Jason’s clothes. Jason worked a hand between their bodies, finding the thick length of Trent’s dick through Trent’s jeans. It was so hard that he moaned, and Trent groaned in response, shoving up his shirt to kiss his chest, one thumb rubbing roughly over his nipple. “Yes, oh, god…” Jason groaned, rubbing Trent’s hard-on, trying to contain the aching in his own dick. Trent was on him, all over him, and he couldn’t worry about Trent finding out about his obsession, he couldn’t worry www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

11

Incredible about blurting out the wrong thing, all he could do was experience everything that Trent was giving, and try to get more. Cursing impatiently, Trent lifted off of Jason just long enough to unfasten his fly, tossing his shirt aside and shimmying out of his jeans with careless alacrity, returning his attention to Jason immediately like he was diving back into the pool. His kiss was demanding, and as their tongues loved and fought, Jason’s hands slid over the firm, trained muscle of Trent’s body. His skin was smooth, hairless, and if he’d been wearing any underwear, Jason hadn’t seen it. “God…fuck…” Jason groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his fingers into the muscle of Trent’s back as Trent’s hand covered his dick, bringing him to unbearable fullness in the restriction of his jeans. Aching, needing, panting, Jason pushed Trent’s hand away and jerked open his fly himself, shoving down his jeans and underwear and grasping Trent’s hand, wrapping it around his dick. “Oh…yeah, yes, yes, yeah, god, yeah…” Moaning, gasping, Jason cupped the muscular curves of Trent’s ass in both hands as Trent pumped his dick. “Do it…yeah, yes, oh…” Trent’s grip was tight and experienced, the rhythm of it a shade too quick, and Jason could feel the urgency of it pushing up through his spine, burning through his blood, tightening his balls. “Oh, yes, yes, Trent, god, fuck me…” The sky was black, the stars were bright, the sheets were stained, and the echoes of the bedsprings mingled with the memories of Trent’s passionate groans in Jason’s ears. His skin was dirty with sweat and cum, his ass tender, his thighs strained, his fingers tracing the lines and curves of Trent’s shoulders as Trent slept, Trent’s slow, even breaths warm against his neck. Trent was heavy. Jason couldn’t really breathe too well. Jason didn’t really care. Everything that he’d just seen was etched permanently onto his brain. He’d recorded it, so that he could pull it from memory later and draw it all. If he closed his eyes, he could see the ecstasy on Trent’s face, the tightening and rippling of muscle, the line of Trent’s long neck, the sweat trickling down Trent’s right temple, theTrent mumbled something against his neck and squeezed his hip. “What time is it?” Jason opened his eyes, carefully brushing his fingertips over the peach fuzz on Trent’s scalp. “It’s almost midnight.” “Mmm.” Trent kissed Jason’s neck and raised his head, meeting Jason’s eyes. The lamp was still on, casting a spotlight on the desk, and Jason watched Trent lean in, closed his eyes just in time to receive a slow, gradually deepening 12 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Incredible kiss. “Do you need me to go?” Trent asked, pulling back just enough to leave kissing range. “No,” Jason said. His roommate wouldn’t be back until the next day, late in the afternoon; if Trent was willing to stay, Jason wanted to soak up as much of him as possible. Trent kissed him again, lingering over his mouth. “You’re incredible,” Trent murmured, licking just inside his lower lip. Jason didn’t know if Trent meant that or not. It didn’t even matter, really. Trent had been incredible. Jason had felt incredible. Hot and powerful and erotic and invincible. He’d felt incredibly good and he’d come incredibly hard and he’d become incredibly sure that he had to have Trent again. “I could have kept on fucking you forever,” Trent said in between kisses, barely taking his mouth from Jason’s to form the words, his voice low and private, like he was talking to himself more than to Jason. “You were incredible.” His hand stroked Jason’s thigh while his tongue stroked the roof of Jason’s mouth. Jason didn’t know what to say back - - “You were great,” “You’re so fucking sexy,” “You want to do it again sometime?” - - so he just kissed Trent’s hot, possessive mouth and stroked Trent’s hot, gorgeous body with hungry, cherishing hands. He didn’t know when he’d get this opportunity again, and he didn’t want Trent to leave before he’d touched every inch. Trent cupped Jason’s chin in one hand, looking into his eyes. Jason hoped that his eyeliner wasn’t fucked up or anything. “I don’t know why you sit in the bleachers,” Trent said. Jason looked into Trent’s amazing green eyes and tried not to tense. “I’m not going to ask, either, because it’s none of my business.” Trent’s eyes softened, and his fingers caressed down Jason’s cheek. “I just hope that whatever your reason is, it keeps you going there.” Jason raised his hand, tracing the line of Trent’s cheekbone. “There’s no real reason not to go.” Trent grinned at him. Jason couldn’t help it; he grinned back. Trent’s kiss was a slow devouring.


13

Stupid Question

“Hey, Langley,” Pete said, walking into the bathroom. “Jones,” Trent said, grinning. “How’s it going?” “Not that bad,” Pete said, glancing at Jason with uncertain curiosity. “You guys, uh, going out tonight?” party.”

Following Pete’s gaze, Trent smiled. “Jason’s friends are throwing a “Oh,” Pete said. “Have a good time.” “Sure thing,” Trent said, as Pete went over to the urinals.

Sharpening his eyeliner pencil, Jason briefly rolled his eyes. His black shirt stretched tightly across his chest, stopping just below his nipples, leaving the rest of his torso bare, his transparent black mesh sleeves so long that they reached almost to his polished black fingernails. Trent kept wanting to touch him, to stroke his slender back, to kiss his naked stomach. His pants and boots were both of black leather, with chains and straps and buckles that Trent wanted to tug on to bring him closer. While Jason fixed his hair and make-up, Trent sat on the next sink, watching. The sight of Jason grooming himself was both exotic and erotic to Trent, who loved to observe the process, the details of it. Never having worn make-up himself, never having seen another guy put it on, Trent was mystified by how it happened, the subtle tricks of it, Jason’s skill. “Butch has three dates lined up for tonight,” Trent said, watching Jason line his eyes in black. “Two of them are from the same sorority. We’re taking bets on how early into the night he’ll get his balls kicked in.” He liked how steady Jason’s hand was. “He’s supposed to meet Tara at ten at her dorm, Karen at ten-thirty at her apartment, and Nikki at eleven at some party.” “Langley,” Rick said, coming into the bathroom. “What’s up?” “Hey, how are you doing?” Trent asked. “You going to be around tomorrow?” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Stupid Question “Yeah, come by my room, we can hit the court,” Rick said. “Jason, you want to play?” “No,” Jason said dryly, not even glancing away from the mirror. Trent grinned at Rick. “Catch you later.” “Yeah,” Rick said, ducking around to the showers. Jason uncapped his mascara. “We’ve told Butch that all he’s going to get is three pissed-off girls and nasty looks from their friends, but he’s convinced that he’ll at least get a threeway out of it.” “And crabs,” Jason muttered. Blinking a few times, he looked at his reflection, studying his handiwork. “Probably,” Trent admitted. He’d heard a few things about Karen that increased the likelihood. “Hey, Jim.” “Hey, Langley,” Jim said, coming over to wash his hands. “You guys going to the same party?” he asked, looking them over with a grin. “Jason’s friends are throwing a party,” Trent said. “I’m staying in tonight.” “Staying in?” Jim repeated, as if he didn’t recognize the concept. “You should go out. We’re all going over to the row, and then over to Callahan’s.” “I don’t know,” Trent said. “Maybe I’ll check it out later. I’ve been so busy with the team, now that the season’s over, I want to take some time off.” “Must’ve been hard work, winning all of those championships,” Jim said, grinning. “Hey, I do what I can,” Trent said. “We appreciate it,” Jim said, heading for the door. “See you later. Come to Callahan’s!” he called over his shoulder as the door swung shut. face.

“You should go,” Jason said, pushing his red-streaked bangs from his

“Maybe tomorrow night.” Going out always meant getting drunk and acting stupid, and he was still used to his strict season regimen of treating his body well; he wasn’t ready to go out consistently. Jason shrugged, picking up his lipstick. “Last chance. If you want to kiss me, do it now.” “I want to kiss you all of the time,” Trent said, slipping down from the sink and drawing him closer. Jason’s skin was cool and smooth, and when he www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Stupid Question rose onto his toes a bit, Trent kissed him, hands tightening on his waist and pulling him in, licking into his mouth and making him moan. Hearing Jason moan really turned Trent on, and he slid one hand down to cup Jason’s ass, lifting a bit, loving the feel of Jason’s body against his, kissingnice.”

“Whoo! That’s it, man, you get yours,” someone said, clapping. “Very

Breaking their kiss, Jason turned around and flipped Brett off, giving him a dark look before uncapping the lipstick. “Oh, sorry, did I interrupt?” Brett asked, grinning. “Hey, are you going out tonight?” “Probably not,” Trent said, leaning against the sink again, watching Jason darken his lips. “Great, then you won’t need to pay for anything. Can I get five bucks?” “No,” Jason said. “I was asking Trent,” Brett said. “No,” Jason said. “He’s too nice to tell you no, so I’m doing it for him.” Tucking everything back into his make-up case, he checked his pockets for his keys and wallet as Brett gave up and headed for the door. “You’re going to hang around here?” he asked, glancing up at Trent. “Yeah.” Sliding his hands over Jason’s slim waist, he stepped in closer, ducking his head and kissing the side of Jason’s neck. “Is that okay?” “Yeah.” Jason’s hand rubbed up the back of his neck and into his hair, ruffling what had grown in since the end of the season. “Don’t wait up or anything.” He smiled, kissing Jason’s cheek. “I won’t.” His hands slid up Jason’s naked back; he really wanted to take Jason to bed. “You should wear this more often.” “Not in public.” Ringed fingers slid down Trent’s cheek and across his lips, and then Jason twisted away, backing up. “See you later.” “Bye,” Trent said, catching him and kissing near his mouth and releasing him. “Have fun. Tell everybody I said hi.” Pushing his bangs out of his eyes, Jason nodded and left. The door swung shut. Trent picked up Jason’s make-up bag and went back to the room.


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Stupid Question When Jason got downstairs and outside, Kate and Brad were already there, waiting for him. “Sorry.” “It’s okay, we just got here,” Kate said, and the three of them began to walk, fishnet stockings peeking out from under Kate’s long, black coat, Brad humming tunelessly to himself. “Nice shirt.” Jason shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “How’s Trent? I was kind of hoping you’d bring him.” Jason snorted. He couldn’t imagine bringing Trent to this party. Couldn’t imagine lining Trent’s striking green eyes with black, couldn’t imagine zipping Trent into black leather. He’d just left Trent in jeans and sneakers and a swim team T-shirt, looking healthy and athletic and terrifyingly normal. Wholesome; Trent was very wholesome. That was his dorm, Jason’s dorm, but Trent knew everyone there, everyone on Jason’s floor, all of the guys, their names, their girlfriends, their hobbies. He said hello to them and played basketball with them and borrowed their videogames. He was friendly, and everyone liked him, and everyone thought that he was just super. It freaked Jason out. He wasn’t used to jocks and joiners; he usually kept his distance. And, normally, they did the same. But now, now that he was Trent Langley’s boyfriend, the other swimmers said hi to him on campus and talked to him in the dining hall. Some of them had even started to come by his room to look for Trent. They clapped him on the shoulder and called him by his last name. It was weird, to be included. He often tried not to be included - - he was curt, he was rude, he was off-putting - - but they either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Trent should’ve been with one of them, someone like them, someone athletic and tanned who wore clothing emblazoned with the names of sports teams. Someone who liked to party and liked to sweat and said “dude.” Not someone generally antisocial who wore make-up. If Trent dated someone who wore make-up, it should be a girl, a girl with shell-pink lipstick that smudged when she licked his lollipop. “What’s your problem?” Kate asked after they’d passed a few more buildings. “I’m in love and that scares me.” Flipping his bangs out of his eyes, he wished that he hadn’t just said that. “He doesn’t belong with me and I’m not right for him.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Stupid Question are.”

“He’s in love with you,” Kate said. “He’s even more into you than we “I like Jason,” Brad said.

“Yeah, but you don’t have that goofy, starry look in your eyes whenever he’s around,” Kate said. “I’ve checked, and Trent can have anyone he wants,” she told Jason. “He’s in love with you. He lights up around you. He looks at you all of the time like most guys only look at me when I agree to give them head.” He had to admit that Trent was really did seem to like him. Trent was affectionate and attentive and interested; they spent a lot of time together, and Trent always seemed happy to see him. Trent seemed to get him, too, to understand him, to respect him; Trent had never even subtly pushed him to change. It wasn’t like Trent wanted him to be more athletic or be more outgoing or tone down his look; it also didn’t seem like Trent wanted to emphasize their differences and drag him around like some exotic freak on display. Trent just liked him, even when he wasn’t being all that likable. “He’s not in love with me.” The subject hadn’t come up. They’d been boyfriends for a few months now - - Trent had asked him, and he hadn’t been able to say no - - and they were together a lot. But that was a relationship, not love. He was in love, he’d been in love with Trent for a while, he found Trent irresistible, his heart still pounded whenever Trent walked into a room, he still felt lightheaded when Trent smiled at him, he still got hot and desperate and hungry when Trent fucked him. “He is,” Kate said. “Ask him.” He wasn’t going to ask. He’d never been happier in his life; he wasn’t going to fuck that up by asking stupid questions. Now that Jason’s roommate spent more time at his girlfriend’s apartment, Trent got to sleep in Jason’s bed more often. Happy to take advantage of that, Trent decided to hang out and relax until Jason got back. After reading a few chapters for Monday’s class, he watched TV. He got a call from one of the guys from the team, whose couch Butch, now dateless, had passed out on. Apparently, Butch was such a great catch that all of the girls had decided to drop him entirely rather than share him with each other. Promising to go to tomorrow night’s party, Trent hung up. Crawling into bed, he smiled at Jason’s scent. He missed Jason, and his hand almost automatically crept down to his groin, cupping his dick. Fondling himself, tugging a little, he closed his eyes, rolling onto his stomach, raising his hips a bit and biting on his lower lip. Jason flooded his mind, the paleness of Jason’s skin www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Stupid Question in the dark, the soft pink of Jason’s lips, the intensity of Jason’s dark eyes, the high curves of Jason’s ass, the hard length of Jason’s erection. Licking his palm, he pretended that Jason was touching him, that it was Jason’s hand on him, that Jason was jacking his dick, that Jason was about to go down on him, that he was about to feel that soft, wet mouth, that, uh, yeah, oh, “Jason, yeah, god, oh…” Groaning as the need for it became too great and pleasure rippled up through him, Trent came in his hand, spilling cum onto the sheets. Flopping onto his back, Trent sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He glanced at the clock, and grinned. Jason would get back soon. He could wait. Trent had said that he’d stay, but there’d been no real reason for him to, and it did funny, hot, twisting things to Jason’s insides to come back and find him there, in bed, asleep. Quietly closing the door, Jason clicked on the weak lamp on his desk. Trent was too tall for his bed, too long, and had scrunched up on one side, the sheet sliding off onto the floor. Jason loved him, wanted him, wanted to keep him, wanted to climb right on top of him and kiss every inch. Taking off his boots, taking off his socks, Jason saw Trent’s clothes puddled together on the floor by the foot of the bed. Underwear included. Which meant that Trent was naked in his bed. “How was the party?” His voice sleepy, Trent rolled over, scratching his stomach, kicking the sheet the rest of the way onto the floor. While the white fabric slipped down, Jason stared at Trent’s long, streamlined, perfect body. Those firm, smooth muscles. Those hard pecs. That perfect, centerfold sixpack. And, of course, that dick. Jason curled his fingers in to keep from reaching for it. “Jason?” Snapping back to the moment, realizing that he was supposed to reply to words, Jason undid his fly. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.” “I wanted you to wake me up,” Trent said, scooting back towards the wall to give Jason room. “C’mere.” Leaving his pants on the floor, Jason began to take off his shirt. “Leave that on,” Trent said. “C’mere.” “You’re perving on my shirt,” Jason said, sitting on the bed. “I’m perving on you.” Kissing his neck, Trent pulled him down, rolling him onto his back and sliding on top. “How was the party?” “Not bad.” He closed his eyes, toes curling as Trent pushed his shirt up kiss his nipples. The soft licking, the rough suction, flashed heat through his body. “Everybody asked about you and I really missed you and I came back www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Stupid Question early.” Gasping, he ran his fingers through Trent’s blond hair as lean fingers stroked across the front of his shorts. He was too weak when it came to Trent, too susceptible. “I missed you, too,” Trent murmured, rubbing his dick through his underwear. Tense, shivering, Jason hardened under Trent’s hand, pushing against Trent’s palm. “Can you do something for me?” “I’m about to beg you to fuck me,” Jason said, shuddering, digging his fingers into Trent’s shoulder, rocking up a little into Trent’s hand. “What else do you want?” “Suck my dick first,” Trent said, kissing him, kissing him with mounting hunger. “Just for a minute, just to get it wet.” He should’ve guessed. Moaning, rubbing into Trent’s hand, he said, between kisses, “You’ve been jacking off.” “I wanted you,” Trent whispered, tongue soft as it licked delicately between his lips, as Trent’s fingers slipped up the leg of his underwear and caressed back behind, oh, oh, yes, god, he was on fire, he, oh, “Please,” Trent whispered, stroking, teasing, “Jason, pl-” “Like I’d say no,” he muttered, but the words came out shaky, and he couldn’t catch his breath. Trent kissed him, kissed him with need and gratitude, and when those damned knowing fingers left him, he pushed at Trent’s shoulders and slid down, under Trent, under Trent’s hips. Trent made a wordless but aroused sound, on his hands and knees, and as Jason’s hands came up to his waist, his hand came down and grasped his dick, aiming it. Licking his lips, Jason stroked Trent’s hips, and when the head of Trent’s erection rubbed over his lower lip, he kissed it, licking around it, making soft hungry sounds, his own dick aching as Trent groaned and said, “Jason,” like it hurt. Caressing Trent’s long thighs, the trembling muscles, he sucked gently on Trent’s dick, making wet noises, making Trent moan, licking from the head all the way to Trent’s fingers at the base. “Oh, god, yes, do it, suck it, yes, Jason, please,” Trent groaned, and he cupped Trent’s balls, moaning and sucking harder, letting Trent’s hips rock just a little in a gentle, shallow, urgent, fucking motion. When those groans became a bit too heartfelt and there was an edge of desperation in, “Oh, Jason, yes,” Jason pushed him back up, rolling over and crawling back up the bed, rubbing against him, grinding ass to dick, groaning at the heat of Trent’s body all up his back. “Mmm, yes, oh.” Groaning, Trent rocked against his ass, kissing the back of his neck, and oh, yeah, he wanted that, he needed it. Cursing, Jason www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Stupid Question spread his thighs, pushing back against Trent’s erection, moaning at the hard length of it, the thickness of it, wanting it inside, wanting it now. “I need you,” Trent groaned, “I need you, god, Jason, I need it.” He felt his underwear being pulled down, peeled down, and Trent was groaning, louder and louder, and Trent was stroking his ass, stroking the cleft, caressing him, teasing him, “Jason, god, now, now, I need you.” Hot from his own passion, responsive to Trent’s, Jason rolled onto his back, lifting his legs and kissing Trent, kissing passionately, moaning helplessly as lean, slick fingers pushed into his body. Groaning, writhing, he dug his fingers into Trent’s back, making desperate, urgent, “uh uh ah ah uh” noises, burning with need, aching from the fullness of his dick. He just wanted to come, just wanted to be fucked, just wanted Trent. “That’s it, yeah, that’s it, oh, god, Jason, yeah, yes, yes, god,” and Trent was in, pushing, stretching, thrusting deep and then deeper, fucking him. Twisting under him, Jason gripped his shoulders, moaning, burning hotter, hotter. “Harder,” oh, yes, yes, “harder,” Trent, it felt so good, it felt so good, he was filled with it, he was exploding from it, he was going up in flames, each pounding thrust was only fuel on the fire, “uh, yes, ah, Trent,” he felt Trent’s hand on his dick and that was it, climax came like a fireball, scorching him, and he was coming, groaning, gasping, coming, shaking. “God, Jason, yes, oh, yes,” and Trent’s hips slammed forward, dick driving deep into his still shuddering body. He cried out, overwhelmed, as Trent came, as Trent shook and called his name, face flushed, lips parted, eyes bright. He’d made Jason come again, and then he’d fucked Jason again, and now he was licking at Jason’s hard little nipples, a tantalizing dark pink. Jason was making aroused, exhausted, stop-don’t stop sounds, stroking his hair and twitching a little. He loved fucking Jason, loved getting Jason off, loved how well they knew each other, loved how responsive and generous Jason was, loved the way Jason moved and tasted and wanted him. He wanted Jason, wanted Jason from somewhere deep in his bones, wanted Jason in a way that was very real and very consistent and very hard to control. But it wasn’t all about sex, never had been. He’d been drawn to Jason from the beginning, had liked Jason from the start, had been attracted in an emotional, intellectual, romantic way. They’d been together for months now, and Jason had been there for him, had been at each meet, had been proud of his wins, had been there through the championships, had been very available for sex, had been awkward and taciturn and sarcastic around his friends, had reminded him to keep studying, 21 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Stupid Question had reminded him to take time for fun, had made him smile, had made him laugh, had given him what he’d needed. Smoothing the black shirt back down and stroking Jason’s nipple through it, which made Jason whimper and kiss his mouth, Trent decided to say it. “I’m in love with you.” Jason stopped kissing him back. Kissing Jason’s jaw, Trent kept his gaze lowered. Jason cleared his throat. Trent smiled against his neck, nuzzling gently. “Oh,” Jason said. “I love you,” Trent whispered, grinning, kissing his ear. Jason’s fingers ran through his hair. Jason kept touching his hair, kept petting it, now that it was growing back. “Thanks.” “You can go ahead and say it back to me,” Trent said, raising his head and looking down into Jason’s dark eyes with amusement. Jason kept things inside. Kept things pent up until some of them just came tumbling out without permission. But there were so many things that he didn’t say. So many small ways he gave himself to Trent that could only be love. Jason wouldn’t want to admit it, but, “I know that you love me.” that.”

Right on cue, Jason scowled, becoming contradictory. “You don’t know He grinned. “Do you love me?”

Uneasily avoiding his gaze, Jason stopped stroking his hair, hand dropping to his upper arm. “You can’t just ask me.” “Do you love me?” Trent asked, running his fingers over Jason’s bracelets. “It’s, it’s not, you…” Jason stammered, distressed, faltering, his normally pale cheeks a rosy pink. “I’m already your boyfriend, I give you my ass almost every time you ask for it, you don’t have to say random shit to make me feel better.” “I’m not saying it to make you feel anything,” Trent said. “I’m saying it because it makes me feel good to be this honest with you.” He brushed his lips over Jason’s, still smiling, unable to stop. “I love you.” “I love you.” Defiantly, Jason met his eyes, as if daring him to react. “I’m in love with you. I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want you to feel compelled to say it back, because I’ve been kind of intense about you for a while, and I didn’t want to push you into anything, because you’re a really nice 22 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Stupid Question guy and I didn’t want to take advantage of that. But I’m in love with you, and I don’t care who knows about it.” Rolling onto his side, bringing Jason with him, Trent wrapped his arm around Jason’s waist, kissing those soft, stubborn lips. “I know.” Jason kissed back, and Trent kissed him, stroking his back, until the tension drained out of him, until the defiance and anxiety dissipated, until Jason was simply whimpering and kissing and melting into him. Jason?”

“I love you,” Trent murmured, rubbing his spine. “Do you love me,

“Oh, god, yes, I’m so fucking in love with you,” Jason breathed, relief vibrating through his voice, slender arms wrapping around Trent’s neck. Long minutes of slow kisses passed. In the morning, as Jason was at the sink again, scrubbing off his makeup, and Trent stood beside him, shaving, Jason gave him a narrow look. “How did you know?” Trent grinned. “I’ve met you, Jason. You’d never put up with my lifestyle and my friends if you weren’t in love with me. The day that Hugh smacked your ass and called you ‘Holtz’ and handed you a beer and asked you if you’d seen the game last night, and you gave him that ‘which planet do you think I’m from’ look and said, ‘No,’ like you were the king of something and he’d asked if you’d seen him take his last shit, I knew that you were in love with me. You had to be.” He couldn’t help but smile. “Your friends aren’t that bad,” he said, and he even meant it, kind of. Trent was still grinning at him. “Neither are yours.” That was fair. Jason dried his hands. “How are Butch’s crabs?”


23

Purple and Magenta

Austin hated studying in the library. He hated studying, period. Sitting still wasn’t exactly one of his strong points. But studying in the library was even worse. Everything was too quiet. At least when he studied in his dorm room, he could do it with music blaring, or the TV on; he could get up and pace around. When he studied in the library, he couldn’t even tap his pen against his notebook without getting dirty looks. But his roommate needed privacy for the evening, and had asked him to make himself scarce. He could have gone somewhere else to hang out with friends, but he was way behind in all of his classes, and he needed to do some catching up. So, here he was, trapped in the mausoleum also known as the main campus library. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to pay attention to his textbook. He’d tried studying biology, but that hadn’t gone well at all, so now he was working his way through Shakespeare. Not a good choice. Maybe he’d do some psychology. He’d rather be on the basketball court. Or getting laid. Austin looked around the library. There were a few other people seated around the nearby tables. A guy with a shitload of books, a girl with magenta hair, a guy in his sixties at least, a girl with a baby, and, hey. Nice. Short blond hair, pouting lips, not bad. Austin cleared his throat. The old guy and the blond guy looked at him. Ignoring the old guy, Austin gave the blond guy a quick little smile. The blond guy went back to reading. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Purple and Magenta Disappointed, Austin opened his psychology textbook. He bounced his heel up and down, jiggling his leg, as he flipped to the right chapter. He read a few paragraphs. At the end of the second page, he had no memory of what those paragraphs had been about. Maybe if he studied the diagrams, that would help. Apparently not. Maybe he’d try the blond guy again. Shit, where’d he gone? Damn it. Austin looked around, but without success. Sighing, he sat back, flipping his pen through his fingers. That left the two girls, the baby, the old guy, and the guy with the shitload of books. The guy with the books had his back to Austin, so he could only see the back of the guy’s head. Nice brown hair. Kind of wavy-curly. He had on headphones, and - whoa. Was he head-banging, or was that a twitch? Dude had a tic! Whoa. Sitting forward with sick fascination, Austin watched the guy’s head snap randomly to one side. There was no pattern, no rhythm to it; it was just an odd twitch. Freaky. Austin wondered what it looked like from the front. Was his face making bizarre expressions? Did his eyes twitch, too? Maybe his mouth twisted up on one side when he jerked like that. Weird. He’d stopped, though. Maybe it was a passing condition, brought on by too much stifling library stillness. The magenta-haired girl gave him a “you jerk” look for staring at Twitchy, so he went back to reading his psych book. Maybe if he highlighted as he read, some of the words would make their way into his brain. Yellow or pink? Maybe blue. Where was his green? Purple! Purple for psychology. Absolutely. Purple psychology. Blue biology. He should have come up with this system weeks ago. What would his English class be? English… Ecru? They didn’t make ecru highlighters. Besides, if they did, no one would buy them. They wouldn’t www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Purple and Magenta exactly draw a lot of attention to the highlighted words. Same problem with eggshell. His mind was really wandering, here. He had to focus so that he could get work done so that he wouldn’t be four chapters behind the rest of the class, in every class. Six chapters, specifically, in psychology. The professor was trying to get the slackers to drop out, he just knew it. She’d never win. He’d show her. He’d stay. And probably get a C or a D, but still, he’d stay. It was the principle of the thing. The idea of himself as a highly principled person made Austin snicker, which earned him dirty looks from Old Guy. Assuming a serious expression, he pretended to buckle down, centering his gaze on his psych book. Right. Words. Knowledge. Learning. Good shit. Purple highlighter in hand, Austin read. Minutes later, after having highlighted every word that started with the letter “p,” Austin looked around the library again. Twitchy was holding pretty still. Magenta was working hard. So were Mom and Old Guy. Baby was sucking on his fingers and looking around like interesting things would happen at any second. Austin wondered why a baby was more well-behaved in a library than he was. Maybe something was wrong with the baby. Maybe something was wrong with him. He wasn’t stupid. He just, god, sitting still was so hard. Antsy, Austin shifted again, twisting the cap on and off of his highlighter. Suddenly twisting too hard, he got purple streaks across his fingers. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, sticking his fingers in his mouth to suck the ink off. Old Guy glared at him. “Sorry,” Austin whispered, taking his hand out of his mouth. Magenta gave him a dirty look for speaking, and he whispered another apology just for her, softer this time. When she gave him an impressively disgusted look and went back to reading, he scrubbed his hand on his jeans. That dried his fingers, but they were still purple. Purple fingers. Great. He’d been trapped in this library for ten years, and not only had he not learned anything, he now looked like he had an odd skin disease. Nice. He wondered if Magenta had practiced that look in the mirror. He tried it out, wondering if his expression looked as “die, scum” as hers. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Purple and Magenta Twitchy jerked his head to the side in one quick movement. It was always the same side each time, a fast move of right ear to right shoulder. Austin wondered what that was about. He was almost bored enough to be rude and ask. Homework. Studying. Minutes later, after having drawn pepperoni on his textbook’s pie charts, Austin was wiggling his purple fingers at the baby, making goofy faces. The baby seemed to like him, even though he was making an ass of himself in public. Maybe because he was making an ass of himself in public? Maybe babies thought that it was funny to make people do embarrassing shit. left.

Mom got up, packing her books away into her bag, and took Baby and Deprived of companionship, Austin looked at his psych book again. Maybe if he took notes…

Reading turned into mind wandering. Taking notes became doodling. Austin drew his name in block letters and shaded it in. Drew stick figures in compromising positions. Drew himself at the library table being bored to death. Skeleton body, cobwebs connecting him to his chair… Old Guy left. Austin waved a discreet good-bye. Old Guy actually smiled at him, a friendly smile, and suddenly Austin felt better. Invigorated, he took another stab at educating himself. It didn’t last long. Why were library chairs so damned uncomfortable? Were chair designers part of a vast anti-reading conspiracy? Maybe he could study standing up. No, Magenta would just report him to the library police. Old Guy was on Austin’s Christmas card list, but Magenta had not proven herself to be a friend. Austin drew a few more anatomically correct stick figures, daydreaming. Mmm… Sex… Man, he wanted a good blowjob. Twitchy jerked again. Austin wondered whether to feel sorry for Twitchy, or laugh. Was it rude to stare, if he was staring at the guy’s back and Twitchy couldn’t see him do it? What were all of those books Twitchy had piled up, anyway? What was he doing research on? Was it for a class? Maybe he was studying his own condition, trying to find a glimmer of hope that one day, he’d stop twitching like that. Was it a degenerative condition? www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Purple and Magenta Was “degenerative” the right word? Austin looked it up in his textbook’s glossary. It wasn’t there. He closed the book. He drummed his fingers on it. He wondered if he should even open his history book, or whether he should give it up and go find food somewhere. The dining hall called to him. The prospect of food summoned him. Getting up, Austin scooped up all of his books, dumping everything into his bag. His purple highlighter spun across the floor, rolling a few tables away. Hitching his backpack over his shoulder, he went after the highlighter, crouching down toMagenta kicked it aside. Austin counted to ten, refrained from bitching her out and crawled one table over. Clutching his highlighter in one fist, he popped up-and found himself face-to-face with Twitchy. Whoa. It had to be the same guy; these were the same piles of books, that was the same wavy-curly brown hair, those were the same headphones, the same shoulders. But…damn. If he’d known that Twitchy had wide blue eyes the color of the ocean, or high cheekbones that could inspire sculpture, he would’ve named the guy something else. Like His Royal Hotness. Torn between standing, or going back under the table and nuzzling into Hotness’s lap, Austin got off of his knees. Hotness smiled at Austin, a friendly, surprised kind of smile, and lowered his headphones. “Hi,” Austin said, and offered his purple-colored, non-contagious hand. “I’m Austin.” “Owen,” Hotness said, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “What are you reading?” He probably should have used his hushed, inside-the-library voice, but the only person around to be disturbed was Magenta, and, well, screw her. “I’m researching male friendships in Dickens,” Owen said. Heh. Excellent. “Do you have time to take a break? I was just going over to the dining hall.” “I don’t, really,” Owen said. “Sorry. I’m already behind schedule.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Purple and Magenta That was either the complete truth or a nice brush-off. Austin decided to find out. Lowering his backpack, leaning forward, glancing around and lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, he asked, “What’s with the…” He quickly tipped his head to one side and back, mimicking the tic. “That girl over there’s been staring at you for hours. I think she thinks you have a nervous twitch or something.” This close, those ocean-colored eyes had the longest, curliest lashes, and Austin could see in detail how exquisitely curved Owen’s lips were. “You have such a sexy mouth.” Owen smiled, and blushed. “Thank you.” Making no effort to move away, even though Austin was leaning in really close, he removed his headphones from around his neck. “My headphones are broken. This side only kicks in if I do that.” Austin grinned. “Do you want to borrow mine?” “Aren’t you leaving?” Owen asked, interested and curious. “Yeah, but you can give them back to me later,” Austin said, unzipping his bag without looking, maintaining eye contact, keeping that smile on Owen’s face. “You know, on our date tomorrow night.” Owen’s smile widened. “I forget, were we meeting at the movie theater, or having dinner first?” “Dinner first,” Austin said, finding his headphones and handing them over. Their fingers brushed; Austin loved Owen’s blush. “I’ll meet you at six at Captain’s.” Owen looked pleased. “Six o’clock.” Zipping his bag, Austin planted a quick kiss on those sexy lips and backed up. “See you,” he said with a grin, and walked off. He flipped Magenta’s book shut as he walked past, whistling. Biology class, still behind. English, not caught up. Psychology, not even close. History, who was he kidding? Love life, Austin was going for extra credit. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, whistling, jogging, shaking off hours of stillness and silence. Stepping out into the cool night, he smiled as he walked to the dining hall. He had a date. A hot date. A smart, sexy date. A fun date. He was going to have fun with a smart, easy-going guy. A guy who was also very hot and had very kiss-friendly lips. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Purple and Magenta He wondered how far Owen went on the first date. He wondered how far Owen went on the second date, and whether or not he could talk Owen into accepting their hours together in the library as a first date. Just as Austin reached the dining hall, he put out one hand to open the door, and another hand planted warmly over his, lacing their fingers. Turning, Austin found himself once more face-to-face with Owen. He smiled, feeling a rush of warmth. Owen had followed him. He’d been chased down. Extremely cool. “Hi.” “Hi.” Owen tugged on their linked fingers to pull him aside as other students exited the dining hall. “Could we make our date for five thirty?” “Five thirty is good for me,” Austin said. There was extra color in Owen’s cheeks and tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip. “Did you run?” “You had a head start,” Owen said. “I thought you were busy,” Austin said, flexing his fingers in Owen’s hold. He was smiling too much, but so was Owen. “I was,” Owen said. “So what happened to Dickens?” Austin asked. He wanted to put his other hand on Owen, too. Or kiss Owen’s mouth again. Or both. “I got hungry,” Owen said. “We could eat together,” Austin said. That happy smile was too sexy. “Okay.” Too sexy. Austin kissed him. Slower this time, not backing off until Owen’s fingers tightened on his and Owen made a quiet little kind of aroused sound. When he looked into Owen’s eyes again, Owen’s expression was as excited and dazed as he felt. “Are you this friendly with everyone?” Owen asked. “No,” Austin said. “Only really hot guys with blue eyes and sexy lips and broken headphones.” “That’s good,” Owen said, and kissed him.


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Ten Weird Things

Eric had heard all of the horror stories. Roommates who stole money. Roommates who stole (and sold) belongings. Roommates who belonged in nudist colonies. Roommates who played loud music nonstop. By the time he got to college, he was just hoping for someone who wouldn’t sell his laptop behind his back. He was relieved to meet David. David was tidier than he was but didn’t seem to mind the clutter on his side of the room, displayed no nudist tendencies, smiled a lot, and didn’t eye Eric’s laptop speculatively. Actually, David seemed like a really good guy. He was in classes that Eric hadn’t had the balls to take yet, he did five hundred sit-ups every day, he didn’t mind giving Eric quarters for laundry, and he had a really warm laugh. They just had nothing in common. After the first two days of conversation, they were out of things to talk about. Eric watched sports and news and music videos; David watched sitcoms. Eric listened to punk and metal and grunge music; David listened to boy bands and show tunes and classical music. Eric liked to go out and get drunk and party; David liked to stay in the room and read. Eric was thinking about rushing a frat; David planned to apply to med school. They weren’t exactly close. Eric would have preferred to have a roommate he could hang out with, someone he could talk to when he got back to the room after his astronomy professor humiliated him in front of a crowded lecture hall. But David was a great guy, and he wasn’t selling Eric’s possessions on the black market, so things were okay. Rick and Rich down the hall had two TV’s and two PS2’s, and were always willing to share. Eric hung out there sometimes; he’d invited David once or twice, but David didn’t play videogames. One Monday night, Eric ditched his reading and went to see whether Rick had made any progress in his latest war game. Rick wasn’t there, but Rich and Larry were playing football, so he stayed. By the time he remembered that he www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things had a seven o’clock class the next morning, it was past midnight. He stayed a little longer, then went back to his room. David was there, on his bed in a pool of light from his lamp, on his stomach, reading. “Hey,” Eric said. “Hey,” David said, glancing over his shoulder. Eric knew that he should have something else to say, but he couldn’t think of anything remotely interesting, and he didn’t want to interrupt David’s reading. So he got his bathroom kit and went to go brush his teeth. When he got back, David was laughing. Really laughing, that warm, “oh, life is good,” laugh. He dropped the book, rolling onto his back, knees up, hands over his face, shaking with fresh laughter. “Are you okay?” Eric asked, locking the door. “No, no,” David laughed, dropping his hands. “Oh, wow.” He sat up, running his hand back through his blond hair. “It’s just this thing - - it’s not even that funny, it just struck me, it’s so strange. You have to hear this,” he said, picking up the book again and flipping through it for the right page. “People are crazy.” Eric set down his bathroom kit, starting to undress. “‘Charles Edward Padgett, forty-nine, was sentenced to fifteen years in prison for a 1986 attempted sexual assault in San Antonio. According to testimony, Padgett had gone to the home of a woman he knew slightly, pulled a gun, ordered her to undress and to stand with her back to him, and then to reach behind her and, while conversing with him, to fondle a large cucumber that he had stuffed in his pocket.’” Eric burst into laughter. “You’re kidding me! A cucumber?!” “Was she supposed to think that it was real?” David asked. “A cucumber,” Eric said. “Was that supposed to turn her on?” “I that think it turned him on,” David said. “That’s fucking disturbed,” Eric said. David laughed again. “Seriously disturbed,” he agreed. “It’s a lot of trouble to go through to get your cucumber fondled.” Now that was funny. Eric laughed, getting into bed. “I wonder if he got to take it with him to prison.” “Sounds like he was pretty close to it,” David said. “I wonder if he was vegetarian,” Eric said. “I’ll bet that he was vegisexual,” David said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things Eric laughed again. He hadn’t realized how funny David was. “Vegisexual.” “I have to stop reading this book,” David said, setting it aside, settling back in bed. “Good luck to you, Charles Padgett.” He turned off his lamp, dropping the room into darkness. “Good night.” “Night,” Eric said, getting comfortable. Vegisexual. Heh. Tuesday night, he went to the movies with Rob, Beth, Marie, and Keisha. He told them about the cucumber guy. He walked Marie back to her dorm, after the movie, and she expressed interest in his cucumber. He made out with her for a while, and then her roommate showed up, so he left. David was in bed, reading, again. Eric made a half-assed attempt to finish his lab report, then asked, “Is that the cucumber book?” David chuckled. “Yeah. Listen to this. ‘Silvia Matos left New York City without a trace shortly before officials cracked down on her for 2,800 unpaid parking tickets - - over a 38-month period, an average of 2.5 per day - - totaling $171,000 in fines. She had registered her car at 19 addresses with 36 different license plates.’” Eric had trouble believing that. “What? Two and a half parking tickets a day?” “I heard the parking in New York was bad, but that’s insane,” David said. “What was she doing, parking on the sidewalk three times a day?” Eric asked. “Almost three thousand parking tickets,” David said. “She’s addicted,” Eric said. “Wouldn’t you start parking somewhere else after the first few times?” David asked. “By the time you get your eleventh ticket, that’s a serious problem. Once you get to fifty, you’re out of control. She went straight on past two thousand without blinking.” “She must have been parking illegally at home and at work,” Eric said. “But if it’s every day, wouldn’t they start towing her?” David asked. “How much money was it?” Eric asked. “One hundred seventy-one thousand,” David said. “Damn. They’re never getting that money.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “It was over three years,” David said. “She got away with that for a long time.” “I hope she moved to a new house with a garage,” Eric said. David chuckled. Wednesday, Eric stayed in the room and fought with his astronomy homework. David was probably out at the library or something. He’d finished his astronomy and was making a stab at his freshman English paper when David came in, loaded down with a backpack, extra books, and a pizza box. “Hey,” David said. “Hey,” Eric said, turning off his stereo. At first, they’d kept telling each other not to stop playing music for each other’s sake, but they couldn’t stop doing it. Eric knew that David couldn’t possibly want to listen to his punk metal, and he was absolutely certain that he didn’t want to listen to old classical operas. “Want some pizza?” David asked, dropping his backpack, dumping books on his desk. “Yeah, thanks,” Eric said. He was starving. “You can finish it,” David said, handing him the box. “Thanks,” he said again, taking a piece. grin.

“Don’t worry, we threw away the one that Shana licked,” David said with a Eric stopped chewing. “What?” David laughed. “It’s okay. She only licked one slice, and we threw it out.”

“Is she that blond girl? The one with the-” he quickly censored himself, since David was a polite guy “-uh, overbite?” David gave him a knowing grin. “No, Janelle’s the one with the, uh, overbite. Shana is Derek’s girlfriend.” “The redhead?” Eric asked. “Yeah,” David said, starting to undress. “I thought that she was Tim’s girlfriend.” “Tim’s gay,” David said, stripped down to his underwear. He lay on the floor between their beds and started to do stomach crunches. “Really?” Eric asked. “Yeah,” David said, exhaling on the way up, inhaling on the way down. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things Eric ate his pizza. What he’d written so far was shit, so he watched David for entertainment. He didn’t actually know David’s friends that well. He’d met them in passing a few times, but he’d had no idea they were the kinds of people who, for instance, licked pizza. “Do you lick pizza?” David laughed breathlessly. “No. Do you?” “No.” He bit a crust in half. “Didn’t you do that this morning?” “I promised Janelle that I’d do an extra hundred tonight. She thought that I ate too much pizza.” Eric grinned. “She likes your body?” “She likes to flirt with me.” David sat up, rubbing his hand over his sleek abs. “Paper?” “Oh, yeah,” Eric said, glancing at his laptop, wishing that it would write his paper for him. “Three pages on euthanasia.” “For or against?” David asked, propping his arms on his knees. “Uh, for,” Eric said. “Mostly.” He could tell, from the way that he had David’s interest, that this was the sort of thing David discussed with his friends. While Eric had hour-long conversations on whether Batman even needed Robin, David and his friends debated world events and socio-political issues. “What about you?” “I’m in favor of it, when practiced appropriately,” David said. “But most ideas are great, in a perfect world.” “But this world isn’t perfect,” Eric said. “Exactly,” David said, getting to his feet. For someone who didn’t seem to play any sports, David had a lot of athletic grace. It looked like he was about to start a serious conversation, and Eric wanted him to, because Eric was just starting to realize that they’d never really sat and talked at length about much of anything. Then a wide grin broke across David’s face. “Pizza.” “Pizza?” Eric asked. “Hold on. One of the weirdest things-” David found a book on his desk, one Eric recognized. “Listen to this. ‘After arguing with his stepsister and hitting her over the head with a gun, Edward Biafore, twenty-nine, barricaded himself inside his parents’ house in Meriden, Connecticut, and announced he wasn’t coming out. Armed with a dozen shotguns and pistols and two hand grenades, he held off a dozen police officers and a SWAT team for three hours before finally deciding to surrender. Witnesses told police that Biafore started the argument over a pizza. “He didn’t want mushrooms,” his girlfriend, Gina Margery, explained.’” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “Mushrooms?” Eric repeated. “He freaked out so badly the SWAT team had to come out, because he didn’t want mushrooms? Why does someone that unstable have hand grenades?” “Only someone that unstable has hand grenades,” David said. “Couldn’t he pick the mushrooms off?” Eric asked. “I guess he takes his pizza more seriously than that,” David said. “People are insane,” Eric declared. “Fucking insane.” “People are very dedicated to their food,” David said. “Pizza… Cucumbers…” Eric laughed. “I’m dedicated as hell to my cucumber, I can tell you that.” David laughed. Thursday night was party night. Eric went down to frat row with Tom, Kent, and Gina to party-hop. Tom and Kent got into a fight with a bunch of grad students over Gina and a bottle of tequila, and Eric tried to help them out, but things didn’t go well. Drunk and bruised and feeling like an ass, Erik convinced Gina that it was time to go. He walked her back to her dorm, declined her invitation to go up to her room, and went back to his own dorm. David was on his bed, reading by lamplight. Eric dropped heavily onto his own bed. “Have a good time?” David asked. “Yeah,” Eric said. “No. Yeah.” He tried to undress himself without getting up. After kicking off his sneakers and undoing his fly, he gave up and decided to sleep in his clothes. Undressing didn’t seem worth the trouble. “Here’s one,” David said. “‘Between 1980 and 1984, one hundred thirtysix fatalities in North Carolina were attributed to “Lying-in-the-Road” death. Dr. Lawrence S. Harris, a state medical examiner who studied the phenomenon, explained that the victims were intoxicated individuals who, while walking home at night, would lie down on warm rural roads and fall asleep.’” Eric frowned. “How many?” “One hundred thirty-six,” David said. “It says, ‘During the same five-year period, Tennessee recorded thirty-one such deaths, while Georgia saw twentyone in 1985 and 1986, and Arizona had thirteen in 1984.’” “You can’t die from lying in the middle of the road,” Eric said. “Unless you get run over.” “Maybe they choke on their vomit,” David said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “Yeah, nice,” Eric said. “Are you trying to tell me something?” “No,” David said. Eric pushed himself to a sitting position. “I drink, but I don’t lay down in the road to sleep.” “I know that,” David said. His tone was mild. “One hundred thirty-six people. That’s a lot.” “Lying in the road death,” Eric muttered. “People are so freaking strange.” He lay down again and rolled onto his side. “You don’t drink at all, do you?” “I eat Jell-O shooters,” David said. Eric sat up again. “What?” “Jell-O made with alcohol,” David said. “It’s great.” “You don’t drink beer, but you eat alcoholic Jell-O.” “Right,” David said. “You should be in that book,” Eric said. “You and your pizza-licking friends.” David looked over, flashing him a grin. “I think that they’re accepting submissions for their next edition.” “Lying in the middle of the fucking road death,” Eric said, and lay back down. “Which state was that?” “North Carolina,” David said. “Southerners,” Eric said. “Yankee elitism,” David said. “What?” “Nothing,” David said. “Did you just call me a Yankee?” Eric asked, sitting up again. He was starting to get dizzy. “No,” David said calmly. “You called me a Yankee! Who are you, Scarlett O’Hara?” David laughed. “You’re from Philadelphia,” Eric accused. “I spent the first sixteen years of my life in Georgia,” David said. What? “No, you didn’t.” Now he was confused. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “Yes, I did,” David said, laughing again. Oh. “I didn’t know that.” “Now you know.” Eric was suspicious. “You don’t sound like you’re from Georgia.” “I can if I want to,” David said in a slow, rural drawl. Eric blinked. “Do that again.” David laughed. “Maybe we should talk about this when you’re sober.” “I’m sober,” Eric said. “You’re from Georgia?” “Yes,” David said. “I thought you were from Philadelphia.” “I lived in Philadelphia for the past year and a half,” David said. “Why’d you move?” “My parents thought that it would be better for me.” “Because a big northern city is better than the backwoods Georgia country?” Eric guessed. David laughed. “Something like that.” “Hey. Hey,” Eric said. “When you were in Georgia, did you ever see drunk people lying in the road?” David threw a pillow at him. “Go to sleep.” Eric threw it back, and went to sleep. Eric woke up late on Friday, when David was already up and gone. He went to his afternoon classes, then went to see how Tom and Kent were doing. They ended up going downtown with Bob and Theresa. When he got back to his room, David was on the phone. “Hey, Scarlett,” he said, and David threw a pen at him. It sounded like David was on the phone with his mom. Now that Eric was listening, David was starting to slip into an accent, probably because he was talking to someone from home. The drawl faded in and out in a really…intriguing way. David’s long, lean body was tucked into itself, one arm wrapped around a knee, his blond hair falling forward as he lowered his head. David’s hair was too long on top, and he was always brushing it back from his forehead. Eric wondered if that was intentional on David’s part, to make girls want to touch him, or just because he hadn’t found a place to get his hair cut yet. When David hung up the phone, he said, “You’re here early, for a Friday.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “Slow night,” Eric said. “Besides, I didn’t want to drink so much that I’d end up dead in the middle of the road.” “Good for you,” David said with an approving smile. “Shut up,” Eric said. “I’m going to go brush my teeth.” David stretched out on his back. “Frankly, my dear, I-” “Shut up!” Eric said, leaving the room. He grinned the whole way down the hallway. When he returned with clean teeth, David was reading again. “You need to get rid of that book,” Eric said. “I think it’s warping you.” “I’m trying to find another way of dying, so you’ll drop this road death thing. How about this?” “This can’t be good,” Eric groaned, sitting on his bed. “‘After two hired killers failed in their task to murder the wife of Daytona Beach, Florida, pool hall owner Konstantinos Fotopoulos, a “tryout” was given to two others in 1989 - - Diedre Hunt, twenty, and Mark Ramsey, nineteen. Fotopoulos, skeptical that either was strong enough for the job, persuaded Ramsey to let himself be tied to a tree so Fotopoulos could fire live rounds at his feet to test his courage. However, before he could fire the shots, Hunt, angry at Fotopoulos’s chiding her that she was too weak to kill anyone, shot and killed Ramsey. Subsequently, Fotopoulos and Hunt were easily convicted of murder because Fotopoulos had set up a video camera to record the entire incident, and police were able to confiscate the tape.’” “Let me get this straight,” Eric said. “He wants to kill his wife. He hires two people to do it. They don’t get it done. He hires two new people, but he’s learned from the first experience, so he wants to make sure these two will follow through with it.” “Right,” David said. “He ties the guy to a tree, so he can fire on the guy and see how brave he is. But he’s been dogging the girl out, and she’s pissed, so she shoots and kills the guy to prove herself. Except now the guy tied to the tree is dead.” “Right,” David said. “The whole thing is on tape, because this guy was filming himself shooting a guy tied to a tree. Not only was he such an asshole he taped it in the first place, but once the guy was shot dead, he didn’t have enough sense to destroy the tape. He kept it.” “Right,” David said. “Are people that fucked up really out there?” Eric asked. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “If we’re lucky, he’s still locked up somewhere,” David said. “I hope his wife lives to be a hundred,” Eric said. “I hope she divorced him,” David said. “Who would be stupid enough to stay married to someone who’s trying to kill her?” Eric asked. “Who would be stupid enough to film himself tying a guy to a tree and shooting at him?” David asked. “Why would you let someone tie you to a tree, knowing he’s going to shoot at you?” Eric asked. “Maybe the real point of the story is that men’s misogyny hurts them just as much, if not more, in the end,” David said. “He was trying to kill his wife and he doubted the merits of the woman he’d hired. He made her prove herself, and she did.” “You’re trying to get a moral out of this?” Eric asked. “The moral is, if you’re stupid and fucked-up enough to want to kill someone, it’s going to come back and bite you in the ass.” “So your lesson would be, don’t try to kill someone?” “It’s a pretty good lesson,” Eric said. David laughed that warm, approving laugh. “It’s pretty solid.” “Why don’t you have an accent?” Eric asked. “My dad’s English, so just in my own house, the accents were split. And for every hour I spent out in the world listening to other people talk, I sat at home and watched TV, where everyone has that normalized American accent. I can sound English or Georgian, but my default is TV.” Eric laughed. “You learned how to talk from watching TV?” “When I was twelve, my parents decided that I was watching a little too much, so they limited me to two hours a day. That left me with a lot of free time, especially on weekends, so that’s when I started in on books. But by then, my accent was set.” “Your dad’s English? How’d he meet your mom?” “That’s a long story,” David said. “Are you sure that you want to hear it?” He looked into David’s warm, direct blue eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.” Saturday, Eric felt weird. Restless. He couldn’t commit to anything. He needed to do his laundry, but he didn’t have enough quarters, and the coin www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things machine was still out of order. David was his usual source for quarters, but David was out doing something somewhere. He worked on his homework. His euthanasia paper had been dragging its feet the whole way, but now that he’d given some thought to David’s comments on a perfect society - - euthanasia was actually a pretty good thing, a merciful way to end final suffering, but only in a perfect society, and in an imperfect society, there were going to be some serious flaws - - his ideas came into focus, and he typed out three pages in a flash. After that, though, American history was boring as hell, so he ditched the rest of his homework. He sat down to watch TV for a while, flipping through channels while his mind wandered back over learning how to talk from television, and what David sounded like on the phone with his mother, and how a privileged Southern belle spending a summer abroad might appeal to a lowerclass London boy. He went down to the dining hall to eat, and ran into Rick and Rich. The three of them went to the dorm across the quad for some beer, then back to Rick and Rich’s room to order pizza and play a few war games. Rick wanted pepperoni and black olives, Rich wanted sausage and mushrooms, and Eric wanted everything possible, but instead of escalating the argument and calling in the SWAT team, they just ordered three pizzas. It was one in the morning when he went down the hall to his room. It was dark, but he could see in the moonlight that David’s bed was empty, so he turned on the light. It was kind of odd for David not to be there at that time of night, and Eric was irrationally irritated that David wasn’t there, but hey, it was Saturday night. David was probably out with Janelle, the flirty girl with the overbite and large rack who liked David’s body. Not that Eric could blame her. David had a really good body. They were the same height, and Eric considered himself fit, but David had great abs, and had started doing push-ups along with the sit-ups. At least, that was what it looked like when Eric rolled over and hit the snooze button every morning. Eric sat on his bed for lack of something better to do. He didn’t want to go to bed; he still felt restless. Antsy. He could go out, find a party, see what the other guys were up to. Screw it. He’d go to bed and hook up with them tomorrow night. As he got into bed, it occurred to Eric that he had the room to himself. David was always in bed before he was, so he had to jerk off in the morning, if he slept in, or in the shower, with a dozen other people in the bathroom. But he liked doing it at night best, and he finally had the opportunity. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things Except, suddenly, he didn’t want to, because he knew what he’d start thinking about, and that wasn’t a good idea. He’d been limiting himself to Marie, or Gina, or Tiffany from astronomy, or Tiffany’s boyfriend Tony, or a TiffanyTony sandwich. If he started thinking about David - - man, David was his roommate, they had to live together, that could be such a bad, bad situation. Or a really, really good one. Eric closed his eyes, shoving his hand down the front of his boxer-briefs, pulling on his dick. David was so, god, so hot, his lean body, his tight musculature, the round curve of his ass, the blond hair dusting his long thighs. His nipples were always hard, and Erik wanted to lick them, feel them under his tongue, climb on top of David on that bed and god, god, he was going to come too fast. Eric bit his lower lip, tensing, straining, fisting his dick, picturing the fall of blond hair as David ducked his head to, god, to suck on Eric’s dick, what that would look like, what that would feel like, he curled his toes and came, moaning, grunting, panting. David was a Georgia peach and Eric wanted to eat him. God. Eric opened his eyes, letting go of his dick. He almost wanted to laugh. Okay, so maybe perving on his roommate wasn’t the brightest idea, but it felt good as hell. He’d been holding that one in since the first day. Hi, I’m David, I’m your roommate, I’m smart and funny and hot as fuck, and I’ll be sleeping two feet away from you for the rest of the year. Now he had a more immediate problem, though. He’d been so turned on by the thought of jerking off over David, he’d come in his underwear. Great. Way to make a rookie mistake years after discovering his dick. Eric sat up toThe scrape of a key in the lock. Eric froze, his heart doing a weird leaping thing. He had to“…walking me back,” David said. He was with somebody. Guys were supposed to walk their dates back, not the other way around, so David must not have been out with Janelle. “You’re welcome.” “Hey, not here, okay?” David’s was voice soft, kind of intimate. “So let me in,” the guy said, way too warmly. Eric blinked. His wheels were spinning way too fast. Tim was gay. Guys were supposed to walk their dates back. David was freaking gay, David was fucking gay, and David was getting action. He was surprised that David was gay. Not one hundred percent surprised, but surprised anyway. He was also surprised that David was getting some. Surprised, turned on, and jealous. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things Were David and this guy boyfriends or something? If they weren’t, and even if they were, Eric was going to make his move. Okay, so he’d never actually been with a guy before outside of some sloppy kissing and ass-grabbing; and, okay, there were a lot of things that he wasn’t considering, like the fact that he had to live with David, and there were thousands of ways that this could end up so so badly; but he wanted David, and now it looked like he could actually have David, and he could work out the details later. “Not right now,” David said, sounding very nice about it but also sounding very direct. “When are you going to let me in?” Tim, or whoever it was, had a really flirtatious but also slightly resentful tone. Like he wanted David, and he’d made that perfectly crystal clear, and David kept blocking. Their voices were getting softer and softer, like they knew that it wasn’t a good idea to have this conversation above a whisper, but Eric could still hear, since David was right in the doorway and their room was the size of an outhouse. “I’ll call you,” David said. “Tomorrow.” Eric suddenly didn’t want to be caught. David didn’t know that he was there, probably thought that he was out getting drunk, and he didn’t want to force the coming out conversation on David, since he wasn’t volunteering that information himself. Besides, he had cooling, drying cum in his shorts. As quietly as he could, he rolled over onto his side, putting his back to the rest of the room, pulling up his sheets. David could just assume that he’d been asleep and had missed the whole thing. “Okay,” the guy said, sounding disappointed but still very interested. “Good night.” “Good night,” David said. Eric heard the door open the rest of the way, and the light flicked on. The light flicked off again, and he held very still, picturing David standing there, shocked and wondering. Finally, quietly, the door closed, and David moved through the room. Footsteps, movement; the door opened, letting in light from the hallway, then closed again. Trip to the bathroom? Eric tried to relax. His mind was having this weird celebration; David was gay, semi-openly gay. It was possible that he didn’t want Eric, but maybe he just hadn’t realized that Eric was available for consideration. What could Eric do? How could he make his move? He could just come out to David and see what happened. He could wait until David went to bed, then crawl in beside him. These fucking dorm beds were so small, they’d have no room, but Eric decided that was a turn-on. He wanted to be crowded in with David. Crowded and naked and on top of each other, groping, humping, making out, getting off. He could just imaginewww.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things The door opened, closed. David was back. Eric swallowed, breathing as quietly as he could. Shuffling. Their carpet was an odd, ugly shade of blue, and it muffled most of the noise as David moved around the room. It didn’t silence the rip of David’s zipper, though, and Eric tensed, aroused by the knowledge that David was undressing right between their beds, and if he rolled over and reached out he could cop a feel of David’s long, hard thigh, or David’s tight, round ass, or David’s god, he had to stop thinking about his roommate’s dick. But he couldn’t help himself, could just imagine the feel of David through the soft cotton of David’s boxer-briefs, hardening in his hand as they made out, horizontal on David’s bed. He’d slip his hand inside, stroking the hard, hot flesh of David’s erection, jacking David’s dick, and David would return the favor, and god, the idea of fucking David’s hand, fucking David’s mouth, fucking David’s ass, he was so fucking hard… Bedsprings. David was getting in bed. Eric breathed through his mouth, working his hand around his dick. David was shifting, getting comfortable. He wanted David to be getting into his bed, getting comfortable with him, wanted the hand on his dick to be David’s. He’d get David to suck it for him, he’d run his fingers through David’s hair, he’d come in David’s mouth, oh, oh god, he was so, he was, ah, ah, ah… Eric tugged hard, digging his teeth into his lower lip, gasping as he came, shouting his pleasure through his mind. Okay. Whoa. Getting a little carried away. Eric tried not to moan at the sexual echoes reverberating through his body, taking his hand out of his shorts. God, that had been good. He was going to resist the urge to proposition David; he was going to go to sleep, and in the morning, he’d start thinking with his brain instead of his dick. Right. Sleep. He wondered how, if, and when David jacked off. Now there were some nice images… When Eric wakened on Sunday morning, David was gone. When he came back from his shower, he saw the note that David had left on his desk. This one made me homesick…


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Ten Weird Things When the only law enforcement officer in Arcade, Georgia, Sid Glenn, was arrested for attempted burglary, in 1989, an Atlanta Journal reporter called the Arcade police department to find out who had arrested Glenn. No one answered. Eric laughed out loud. He wanted to avoid the room for a while, until he could figure out how stupid it would be to hit on his roommate. Logically, he knew that in the end it would only make their living situation tense, if not unbearable; but he also knew that he was willing to risk that, because the idea of getting off with David was taking over his brain. He didn’t know what it was about David, exactly, that was getting inside him like this. He’d wanted guys before, but he’d never felt this driven to do something about it. The thing was, as sexually thrilling as the idea of one makeout-until-you-come session was, he kind of thought that he wanted more. He didn’t just want David; he liked David. He really liked David. He liked the way that David laughed. He liked the way that David smiled. He liked the way that David looked right at people, that direct gaze, whether warm or amused or curious or skeptical. He liked David’s family history. He liked David’s self-discipline, the way that David worked out every morning, the way that David was the only person he knew who had yet to skip one class. He liked that David was different from himself. He even liked that he didn’t know that much about David, because that meant that he could learn more, and he wanted to learn more. He wanted to know David better. David had a weird sense of humor. That really shouldn’t have been such a turn-on. Eric tracked down Bob and Kenny, and bumped into Paul and Sheena, and hung out with them for a while. They went to a club downtown, and then to a party; he ran into Marie, and then got laid. When he came, he was thinking about David. That was such a bad thing, he loved it. Officially hooked on David, Eric went back to the dorm. He went straight to the bathroom to unload some beer. No matter what he did in private, his mother had trained him that when he was in public he had to wash his hands after taking a piss, so he did. While he was running his hand under the tap, David walked in. “Hey,” David said. “Hey.” David was wearing a light gray sleeveless T-shirt with frayed khaki shorts. Eric wanted to run his hand up the back of David’s thigh and squeeze David’s ass. Time to get a grip. Rick came in, and Eric talked to him for a second, surreptitiously watching David brush his teeth. He wanted to lick David’s teeth. That had to be weird. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things He followed David back to the room. He was supposed to brush his own teeth, but he was more interested in being in the same room as David. “So. Scarlett.” “That had better not be my new nickname,” David warned. “That just guaranteed it’s going to be,” Eric said. “And you said you lived on a plantation in Georgia.” “It was a former plantation house,” David said. “What’d you grow? Tobacco?” David sighed, sitting on his bed. “Cotton.” Eric sat on his own bed, facing David. “Really?” David pushed his hair back from his face. “Yeah.” He certainly didn’t seem proud of it, but he was meeting Eric’s eyes. His gaze was always direct, like he had nothing to hide, nothing to hide from. Confidence. Big turn-on. Then again, with David, for Eric, everything was a turn-on, including the way that he exercised every morning, alphabetized his CD collection, and folded his socks, but never once made his bed. “We don’t grow it anymore.” “Do you still have the land?” David had told him that even though they’d moved to Philadelphia, they still owned their house in Georgia. “Yeah,” David said. “Most of it. Mom and Dad are moving back down there next week.” “They’re not staying in Philadelphia?” “No. They miss home.” “Do you miss it?” “Yeah,” David said. “I do. I can’t imagine calling anywhere else home. Philadelphia was never part of me like Georgia is. That house is my family, my history.” “You’re going to inherit it, right? The house?” “Yeah,” David said. “So if I want to look you up in fifty years, I’ll know where to find you.” David smiled. “Yeah.” There was an odd sense of security about that. David knew where he’d be decades from now. His destiny was mapped out: he’d be a doctor, he’d live in his ancestral home, he’d probably still work out every morning. Eric’s life wasn’t that clearly set. He didn’t even have a major. But he liked David’s established path. It wasn’t boring; it was secure. David knew who he was. David knew what he wanted. Eric liked it. 46 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Ten Weird Things He wanted to visit David in Georgia. See where David lived, the big house, the surrounding property. He could picture high ceilings, wooden floors, grand staircases. Mammoth, curtained, four-poster beds with goose down pillows, where he could ravish his very own Southern gentleman. David reached across the space between their beds and poked him in the forehead until he let gravity take over and dropped onto his back. “You’re drunk,” David said. “You’re sitting there, staring into space, grinning like a fool. What are you thinking about?” Eric heard himself giggle. “A Yankee invasion.” His giggles turned into full laughter. David sounded amused. “Sleep it off.” Eric’s laughter drifted into silence. He gazed at the ceiling, letting his mind wander, thinking about letting his hands wander. Then he realized that his eyes had closed. He sat up, opening his eyes, and realized that not only was he tired, but the overhead light was off, and David was reading in bed. Apparently time had passed without him. He undressed and got into bed. “Tell me a weird thing.” “Okay,” David said. “‘Kevin Ford and Donald McNair were charged with various driving-related offenses in Buffalo, New York, after Ford’s brother, Montgomery, drove Kevin’s car up a telephone pole guide wire, causing the car to flip over. Kevin explained that he had been drinking and turned the keys over to Montgomery, who is blind, but who “always wanted to drive.”’” Eric laughed himself to sleep. Eric made it to his afternoon classes on Monday. He was going to have to stop drinking, or at least learn to get his ass out of bed. Or maybe he’d just stop scheduling morning classes. He had such respect for David’s self-discipline, he wondered whether David was disgusted with his lack thereof. Maybe not disgusted, maybe just disappointed. He wanted to have David’s respect. Maybe he should shape up. Party less, or drink less; attend more classes, make an effort to complete more than half of his homework. David barely even commented on the differences in their lifestyles, though. He certainly didn’t make disgusted or disparaging remarks about it. He just did his own thing, and let Eric do his own thing, and if they met in the middle, then okay. Eric wanted more than that. He wanted to bring their worlds together. If a Southern belle steeped in American history could marry a boy from London’s www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things streets, then a smart, confident, self-motivated guy might be interested in a somewhat aimless wannabe frat boy. It was possible. He was in the dining hall, standing in line to pick up a cheeseburger and fries, when someone tapped his shoulder. “Hey, cutie.” He turned. Cute girl, red hair, David’s friend. The pizza licker. “Shana, right?” She had a nice smile. “Eric, David’s roommate.” “Right. How are you doing?” “Wishing that it were still the weekend,” she said with a little chuckle. “Listen, are you busy? We’re going to the theater to see what’s playing.” “The black-and-white film festival is over, right?” he asked. She laughed. All of David’s friends seemed like naturally happy people. “Yeah. I think that they’re showing 80’s teen movies this week.” “Classics,” Eric said. “You should come,” she said. “You can help me sneak in food.” “Sure,” he said. “Sounds good.” He and Shana bought a bunch of cheeseburgers, French fries, and sodas, then walked up the hill to the student union. The movie had already started. There were couples dotting the theater, and a group near the back. Shana led him there, whispering, “Take the first seat, I’m going down to sit with Derek.” She started down the row, greeting people, handing out food, sitting down at the other end. Eric sat in the first seat, which happened to be right beside David. “Hi.” “Hey,” David said, taking a soda from his hand, looking surprised to see him. Also happy to see him, and he knew that he wasn’t imagining it. “What did Shana kidnap you from?” “I was getting dinner,” Eric said, unzipping his bag and pulling out foam dining hall cartons full of food. “Fries?” David laughed, accepting a carton, passing it down the row. They watched the movie, eating, laughing, reciting famous lines. David and Eric shared a soda. After the second movie, all of them started walking back to the dorms. Tim was there, and Eric was irritated when Tim pulled David aside, walking together with him a little behind the others. People started to part ways as they walked along, taking off for their final destinations. When Eric reached his dorm, he said good-bye to everybody and pulled out his key, glancing back at David. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things David had stopped walking, and Tim was standing way too close to him, touching his arm. Stroking his forearm. David was in short sleeves, and his forearm was bared to Tim’s touch. Eric thought that he was probably cold. Eric also thought that Tim needed to back up, or die a painful death. Eric slowly walked up the steps to the front doors. Once there, he stopped and looked back. David was stepping away from Tim. Tim reached out a little; David glanced up, and Eric looked away, but not before they made eye contact. Feeling burned, somehow, by David’s gaze, wondering why David had looked in his direction, Eric unlocked the door. Should he wait for David? If he looked back, would he see David walking away with Tim? Had David looked at him to see if he was watching? Should he pretend that he hadn’t realized the intimacy of the conversation? “I’m freezing.” David was right behind him; Eric stepped into the lobby feeling like he’d won. It was bizarre to feel victorious, because David hadn’t chosen him over Tim, not at all, but he felt that way anyway. He wanted to put David at ease, in case David was worried that he’d read anything into David’s friendship with Tim, so in the elevator on the way up to their floor, he started talking about Shana. They walked to their room together, brushed their teeth together, and got ready for bed together, talking about Shana, about Derek, about popcorn, and about why they didn’t want to work in a movie theater. Eric yawned, rolling over in bed. “Tell me something weird.” “Close your eyes.” He did, and David switched on the lamp. He opened his eyes again, watching David page through the book. David chuckled, and Eric wanted to kiss him. “Here’s one. ‘Police in Lewisburg, Tennessee, spotted a ten-gallon tub of marijuana plants but couldn’t spare any officers to watch for the owner. They confiscated the plants and printed a picture of them in the Lewisburg Tribune with the caption: “Have you lost a tub of marijuana? If you have, you may claim it at the Lewisburg Police Department.” Police arrested Leroy Chilton, twenty-six, when he appeared and said the plants were his.’” Eric laughed. “He’s a genius.” “Just drop by the police station to pick up your drugs,” David said. “No problem.” “Where did he have this tub, anyway?” Eric asked. “I wonder if it wasn’t really his, he just thought that he could get some free marijuana,” David said. “Sounds like he was smoking some before he got there, anyway,” Eric said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “Do you smoke?” David asked. “Pot?” Eric asked. He hesitated, then decided to be honest. “A few times in tenth grade. My mom found out and threatened my life. I was more afraid of her than of what Randy Haskell thought, so I didn’t do it again.” David chuckled. “You’re a good son.” “What about you?” Eric asked. “I haven’t seen any track marks.” Another chuckle. “No, I don’t do drugs. I figure that if cigarettes and alcohol are that bad for you and that destructive, the illegal stuff really isn’t worth it.” Heh. Good point. “Tim smokes pot,” David said. “Really,” Eric said slowly. Score. “Yeah.” “Does he want you to?” Eric asked, trying to get a handle on Tim’s personality. “He’s asked me,” David said. “Twice. I told him that I wasn’t into it, and he hasn’t brought it up again.” “Well, that’s nice of him,” Eric said. “Wanting to share his interests with you.” Soft, startled laughter. “Yeah, I guess so.” Tuesday, he hung out with Marie. They had sex, then had dinner, then had sex again. Then her mother called, so he left. He went to Rick and Rich’s room, and finished their Chinese take-out, and got his ass kicked all over the screen. Then he went to his room. Sitting up from where he’d been lounging on his bed, David turned off the TV. “Hey.” “Hey. What were you watching?” Judging from that reaction, it was porn or something. “Nothing. You want some chicken?” There were bags and cartons from KFC sitting on the floor by David’s desk. Either David had over-ordered, or he’d had company. “No, thanks. I just ate my weight in egg rolls.” There was a videotape box on top of David’s backpack. “The Lion King?” He’d never seen David blush before, ever. The pink creeping into his cheeks was really attractive. “I have a thing for Disney.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “Which part were you on?” Eric asked. “Did you get to the stampede yet?” “No, not yet,” David said, looking a little taken aback but handling it gracefully. “They’re in the elephant burial grounds.” “You just got started,” Eric said. “Turn it back on.” He toed out of his sneakers and pulled off his socks, sitting on his bed. David gave him a long look, then started the tape again. “I didn’t think that most guys were into Disney.” “Everybody’s into The Lion King,” Eric assured him. “Animal stampedes, regicide, something for everybody.” He laughed. “I finally got to say it. I’ve been trying to work ‘regicide’ into a conversation since I learned it three weeks ago.” “Congratulations,” David said with an amused, almost proud smile. “Where’d you learn it?” “Bob’s an English major. He was going on and on about Shakespeare with Kelly, and I was trying to hit on Kelly, so I had to pay attention.” David laughed. “And now you know what an idiot I am,” Eric said. “You’re not an idiot, you just have a unique learning process,” David said. Eric laughed. “Thanks.” They watched the rest of the movie, and then they got ready for bed. Eric watched David undress while trying not to get caught staring, but his attention snagged on something. There was a mark on David’s shoulder, right under where his shirt collar had been. It looked like a bruise, or… Eric’s brain stopped. “You have a hickey.” He hadn’t meant to say it, he really hadn’t, but he was surprised and jealous and angry and hurt. Movies, food, Tim had been there, had made out with David on David’s bed. Had been kissing David’s neck and doing fuck knew what else, in his room, with his David. David wasn’t his, but damn it, David should have been his, his to kiss, his to grope, his to pleasure. He could picture Tim on top of David, tugging David’s collar aside to suck on David’s skin, and the image was arousing, yeah, sure, but it was also fucking enraging. “What?” David asked, looking startled. “Nothing,” Eric said, turning away. He had nowhere to go, so he got into bed. He avoided looking anywhere near David, David’s blue eyes, David’s body that had been visited by someone else. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things He’d thought that David was turning Tim down. He’d convinced himself that David didn’t really want Tim. But apparently David did want Tim, and had started saying yes. Yes to hickeys, this time. Yes to sex, next time? Eric had never fucked a guy, but he sure as hell wanted to. He’d read about it and seen pictures of it and watched enough gay porn to know what it looked like, and what it looked like was fucking hot. If anybody was fucking David, it was going to be him, damn it. Just that evening, he’d been in Marie’s bed, and she’d been going down on him, and he’d closed his eyes and pretended that it was David; after he’d come, he’d opened his eyes and he’d seen her, instead of David, and he’d had a weird, strong moment of disorientation. For a second, he hadn’t even wanted to be in the room with her; it had felt wrong, to have her there where David should have been. While he’d been fucking her, Tim had been in his room, with his David, doing what he should have been doing. He wasn’t going to let Tim take his place again. “Are you okay?” David asked. Nowhere close to it. He rolled over, trying to smooth his expression into something more pleasant. He was angry, and jealous, and scared. Afraid of losing David, afraid of not making his move, afraid of being too chickenshit to go for what he wanted. “Tell me something weird,” he said, because that was their thing now, their little tradition, and he still had that, anyway. David looked uncertain for a split second, like one of them should say something different, then smiled a little. “Okay.” Eric dropped back, looking at the ceiling. “‘When California State University at Northridge replaced traditional toggle-style light switches in one hundred eighty campus offices with energysaving switches that work by automatically shutting off the lights any time they fail to detect motion, professors complained. James Sefton, for instance, said he had to get up from his chair ten times in three hours and wave to convince the switch he was there. “There was a woman across the hall engaging in all sorts of gymnastics in her office to keep the light on,” his colleague Max Lupal noted.’” Eric laughed. “I can just picture it.” “Sounds like it would keep classes interesting,” David said. “We should try it here,” Eric said. “Astronomy would be a lot better if Dr. Dalton got up and jumped around a few times.” “Imagine going to meet with your professor in his office and seeing him in there frantically waving his hands around,” David said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things Eric laughed. “I’d pay to see that.” “Maybe that should be a test,” David said. “They should have those lights in all of the lecture halls. Any class where the lights go off more than once would be labeled too boring and get cancelled.” “I’d have to get a whole new schedule,” Eric said. David laughed. “So would I.” Eric loved the sound of David’s laughter. What if he made his move, and got rejected? What if he made his move and had a good time, but then things fell apart and he lost David’s laughter for good? Would it be worth it? Could he afford not to try? Wednesday, Eric zoned out in all of his classes, and during all of his conversations, and while kissing Marie. All of his thoughts were circling around David, and how David’s lips might feel brushing his in a kiss, and how David’s lips might feel wrapped around his dick, and how much experience David actually had, and since David’s nipples were hard all of the time, did that mean that they were sensitive, and if he licked them, would David moan? Was David loud in bed? Quiet? A screamer? A talker? Did he like to kiss and make out for hours, or did he like to go straight to sex every time? What did Eric want? Casual, random sex? Casual, steady sex? A relationship? A monogamous relationship? He wanted to be in that house in the lush Georgia countryside, wanted to spread David’s gorgeous, naked body across that four-poster feather bed, wanted to fuck until David experienced such intense, shattering pleasure that the whole fucking country came. Okay, so he wanted David. He wanted exclusive rights to David’s body and sexuality. If David was monogamous, then he’d have to be monogamous, too, and that was a little scary, but so was wanting someone this much. He was willing to go with it. It seemed to him that maybe what he wanted was for David to be his boyfriend. He’d never had a boyfriend. Girlfriends, sure, he’d had girlfriends since first grade. Boyfriends… www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things A serious commitment could be a frightening thing, but if it meant that he got to be the one leaving love bites on David’s body, then hell, sign him up. He got back to the room early, nervous but determined. When someone knocked on the door, he jumped up, but it couldn’t be David, because David didn’t knock. He calmed his nerves a little and opened the door. “Hi,” Shana said. “Is David here?” “No,” Eric said. He took a gamble. “Do you know where he might be? I kind of need to talk to him.” Before Tim got there first. “Probably at the library, or at Tim’s,” Shana said. “If I see him, I’ll tell him that you’re looking for him.” “Which dorm is Tim in?” Eric asked. “He’s off-campus,” Shana said. “The Weverly apartments.” “Oh.” Damn it. Off-campus. Tim had a room to himself, if not a whole apartment; it was the perfect place for sex. Eric decided that he officially and forever hated that fuckwad. “You okay?” Shana asked. “Yeah,” Eric said. He tried to smile at her. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll tell David that you’re looking for him.” “Thanks,” Eric said, but it came out sounding weak. Defeated. Sighing, pissed off at himself, he closed the door. He should’ve made his move before, while David had still been resisting Tim. David was probably getting laid at that very moment, all over Tim’s off-campus housing. What if David moved in with Tim? He was getting ahead of himself. He was starting to panic. He didn’t have to panic. There was no reason to think that David wanted to shack up with Tim. There was no reason to think that Tim and David were fucking; one hickey wasn’t sex. Besides, even if David was having sex with Tim, maybe he’d have sex with Eric, too. Eric took a shower, complete with hot masturbatory fantasies of exploring David’s naked body. Back in his room, putting on boxer-briefs and a T-shirt, Eric spotted the weird things book on the floor by David’s bed. He picked it up and flipped through it. It was kind of funny how David read all of the time, but was taking forever to finish this book. Heh, there was the lady with the parking tickets, and there was the blind driver, and ha! There was the guy with the cucumber. Man, peoplewww.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things Eric frowned. Wait a second. The cucumber story had been the first one. Hadn’t it? And the next day, he’d come in, and David had been reading, and David had told him about the parking tickets. But the parking tickets were before the cucumber, in the book. Maybe David was reading out of order. David alphabetized his CD’s. David folded his underwear. David didn’t read books out of order. But then…what did that mean? He’d thought that David had mentioned the parking tickets because that was the entry he’d been reading at the time he’d asked, but maybe David had been reading something else, and flipped back to the parking tickets because they were funnier. Or maybe David had finished the book days ago, and he’d just assumed that David was still reading it. Then why was it out, sitting in the spot reserved for David’s current book? Maybe David liked their little nighttime ritual, too. Eric sat down on David’s bed for the first time, Indian-style, and read the book. It was just past ten when David came in. “Hey. You okay? I just ran into Shana and she said that you wanted to talk to me.” “Yeah,” Eric said, feeling oddly clear-headed. Or maybe that was dizziness. “I want to tell you something really weird.” “Yeah?” David asked, dropping his backpack on the floor. He sat beside Eric on the bed, flipping his hair back. He smiled suddenly, like he was remembering a private joke. “Tell me a weird thing.” Looking into those clear, blue eyes, Eric felt his brain seizing up on him, and fumbled the ball. “I’m gay and I want you.” David’s smile dimmed. “Is that in the book?” Eric tossed the book across the room to his own bed. “I’m gay and I want you,” he repeated. It wasn’t exactly great rhetoric, but it hit the main points. “I don’t know what to say,” David said, backing up a little, shifting away from Eric. “Say you’re gay and you want me,” Eric said, pushing himself to sound confident, trying to deny the note of desperation in his voice. “You’re not,” David said. “What about all of those bubbly girls who keep showing up here asking for you?” “What? Who?” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “Gina, Marie, Rita, Lisa…” “They’re just…” Girls he’d fucked since he’d stepped on campus. “Friends.” “You’re not gay,” David said. “I’m bi,” Eric said. “Since when?” David demanded. “Since fourth grade! Ask Jim Taylor what we did in my bedroom while we were supposed to be working on our physics homework. Ask Pete Dixon what we did together in church camp while everybody else was painting pottery.” That made him sound more experienced than he actually was; Jim’s once and Pete’s twice totaled his entire three times with guys, which had amounted mostly to kissing. But he didn’t want David to think that he was a complete novice. “You’re bi,” David said, getting up. Eric stood, too. “I’m bi and I want you.” “What is this?” David asked. “What started this?” “What started this is when I met you I wanted to see you naked, when I talk to you I want to taste you, when I jack off I’m thinking about you. I figure I can tell you anything right now, because if you don’t want me and things get awkward and you move out of our room, at least I’ll know I tried.” David sat down again. Eric sat beside him. “I think you’re into something with Tim, and that’s your business, but if you’ll break it off with him and agree to be my boyfriend, that would be great for me.” David laughed out loud, dropping back and to the side, lying curved behind Eric on the mattress. Attracted to the sound of David’s laughter, Eric turned, putting his hand on David’s stomach. They rarely ever touched, never like this, and David stopped laughing, lifting a hand, tucking his fingers in the collar of Eric’s T-shirt. David tugged, and Eric moved in, and just before their lips met, there was a small explosion in the back of Eric’s brain. Their first kiss was deep and wet, and things moved fast from there. Eric got on top of David, kissing him hard, using lots of tongue, pushing up David’s shirt, feeling over his chest, his nipples. David moaned, sucking at his kiss, squeezing his ass, pulling on him like they weren’t close enough. Eric ground his hips down, and god that felt good, and David was groaning, and David’s hard-on was right against his, and Eric had never felt anything like this in his life. He couldn’t stop kissing David’s mouth, so he used his hands to explore, stroking David’s silky skin, tracing the lines of hard muscle. He wanted to feel David’s dick in his hand, but he couldn’t stop rocking his own hips against it, 56 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Ten Weird Things driven by the urge to get off all over David’s gorgeous body. David was licking deep in his mouth and pulling on his hair and when he had to stop kissing to breathe, David groaned, “Oh, god, Eric,” in a voice loaded with lust and drenched in the South. The sound of it made Eric kiss him even faster, rocking against him harder, harder, harder, oh god, oh god, it was too, it was so, David groaned into his kiss, suddenly going rigid beneath him, then shuddered, moaning with hot satisfaction. So fucking turned on he was on fire from it, Eric ground down hard, needing to come so badly that he could feel it, he could taste it, he could oh, oh, so fucking close, so fucking close, he reached for it, he was there, he was there, he - - “Oh, fuck!” - - and he came, feeling orgasm tear through him, feeling his entire body cry out David’s name with rich, wild pleasure. God, that was, he felt, that had been, he was going to fucking go insane, he felt so good. David’s neck smelled good. It was Eric’s new favorite scent. One of his hands was curled up by David’s other shoulder, and he reached up without looking until he found David’s hair. He ran his fingers through it, twined it around his fingers, stroked it, and finally tipped David’s head to the side so that he could turn his face up and nuzzle behind David’s ear, sniffing up into David’s hair, deciding that it was his other new favorite scent. David’s hand rubbed his back. Massaged down his spine. Stroked over his ass, right through his boxer-briefs, and yeah, that felt good. Eric grinned. “David.” The hand slid up to his back again. “Eric,” David said, his voice warm but restrained. David still didn’t know where this was going. Eric knew where he wanted this to go. “I’m bi and I want you.” David’s voice was a little more trusting this time, as his fingers slipped under Eric’s shirt and caressed the small of Eric’s back. “I’m gay and I want you, too.” Eric lifted his head and kissed David’s mouth. David kissed back, so warm, so assertive, Eric’s blood was running hot. “I want you,” he said again, breaking the kiss but staying close. “I want you,” David said, and kissed him like there couldn’t be enough. Finally, panting for breath, feeling things start to get seriously heated up again, Eric pulled back, raising himself off of David. “Tell me Tim’s not fucking you.” “What?” For a second, it looked like David didn’t even remember who the hell Tim was, and Eric liked that. Then David’s expression cleared, and he shook his head. “We’re not together. The other day, yesterday, we kissed, and he wanted to do more, but I couldn’t.” 57 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Ten Weird Things “Why not?” Eric asked. David started sitting up, so he moved back, giving David room. Not being in complete physical contact sucked, so he comforted himself by leaning in and sucking on David’s earlobe. “He… Oh… I wanted you, I wanted, I couldn’t have you,” David explained, wrapping his arm around Eric’s shoulders, shivering a little. Eric wrapped his own arm around David’s waist, getting in closer, nibbling on David’s ear. “I thought that he could take my mind off of you, but oh, oh, Eric, I…” David moaned, arching against him. “It was wrong, it didn’t work, I couldn’t, ah, Eric, I want you so...” Eric kissed David’s long neck, licking up the taste of him. David’s accent was getting thicker and thicker the more turned on he got, and that was doing seriously wicked things to Eric’s brain. “I’ve wanted you for so long…” “So fucking long,” Eric said, lowering him onto his back again. “Be my boyfriend.” “What?” David sounded startled. This was serious; Eric raised his head and looked into David’s flushed face, into dazed eyes. “Be my boyfriend.” “You don’t-” “Yes, I do,” Eric said. “I don’t want Tim or anybody else on you, and it’s stupid to waste my time trying to hook up with other people when you’re the only one I want. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, and I know we’re roommates and this could get bad, but this can be so fucking good, David, make it good with me.” David looked like he wanted to say yes, but doubt clouded his eyes, and he said, “I-” “When did you finish the book?” Eric asked. “The weird things book, when did you finish it?” David frowned a little. “Tuesday.” “Yesterday?” “Last week,” David admitted. Eric grinned. “I knew it.” “It gave us something to talk about,” David said. He looked incredible spread out under Eric’s body, and being on top of him felt even better, and as soon as this conversation was over, Eric was going to start ravishing. “I wanted to keep it going.” “Be my boyfriend,” Eric said. He had to get David naked. He wanted to see everything. Touch everything. Lick everything. Everything. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Ten Weird Things “Eric-” “You want to be my boyfriend,” Eric said. David smiled a little. “Yeah.” “So be my boyfriend,” Eric urged. “It’s not that simple,” David said, but he was still smiling, like he thought that Eric’s persistence was cute. Hey, whatever worked. “It’s not simple, but it can be good,” Eric said. “Make it good with me.” David drew his thumb across Eric’s forehead, then trailed his fingers down Eric’s nose. The caress made Eric want to close his eyes, but he couldn’t look away; the shifting emotions in David’s eyes were too compelling. “Okay,” David said, and kissed him until his eyes closed. “I’ll be your boyfriend if you’ll be mine.” Dorm beds didn’t have four posters or curtains or down-filled pillows, and Eric didn’t make David come so hard that the entire country felt it, as far as he could tell. But he did get to lick David’s nipples, and it did make David moan, and reality was better than a million of the grandest fantasies, when it came right down to it. Nine weird things quoted from Beyond News of the Weird by Chuck Shepherd, John J. Kohut, and Roland Sweet, published in New York by Plume in 1991. Some of the quotations were altered slightly, in punctuation and word order, for easier blending into the text.


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Cool

Veering around a couple holding hands and a guy walking his dog, Danny came to a quick halt in front of McKinnis, flipping his board up into his hands. “Excuse me,” he said to a passing student. “What time is it?” “Seven thirty,” she said, hurrying down the stairs. He was half an hour early. This was what happened when none of his friends had a reliable watch. Danny blew on his cold fingers, considering his options. He could go get something to eat and come back at eight. Or, he could just be early. He grinned. Getting to see Ryan half an hour early sounded good to him. Skateboard under one arm, Danny walked into the university library. Ryan was usually on the fourth floor somewhere, so he took the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent stairway. Stepping onto the fourth floor, he was surrounded by somber silence. Libraries were too quiet for Danny, too serious, and he moved self-consciously toward the stacks, trying to keep his sneakers from squeaking as he left the carpeted area, passing students absorbed in their work. Danny tended to do most of his research on the Net or by borrowing books from other students. Whenever he used the library, he did it as quickly as possible, in and out, a man on a mission. He preferred a little more action in his life than the library provided. But Ryan was an English major, always reading and studying, and Ryan liked the library, the quiet, the structure, the books, the overwhelming volume of knowledge. They’d actually met in the library. Danny had been looking for a book on Eskimo mythology or something, and Ryan had been standing right there in front of that section. He’d been cute as hell, just Danny’s height with a mop of brown curls, really dark brown eyes, and the sweetest curve to his ass. When Danny said hi and Ryan said hi back, flashing him a nervous smile, and Danny saw dimples, it was game over. Nothing got to Danny like dimples, and Ryan’s were a mile deep. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cool That had been months ago, and Danny was still hooked. Roaming the stacks, he spotted Ryan searching the shelves. Grinning to himself, Danny propped his skateboard at the end of the aisle and approached his prey with caution. book.

Ryan sighed, running a distracted hand through his curls, reaching for a Danny snuck closer, closer, closer. Ryan opened the book, flipping through its pages.

Danny pounced. Ryan’s book hit the floor. After a moment’s struggle, Ryan moaned, giving in, wrapping his arms around Danny’s waist. Danny cupped Ryan’s jaw with one hand, making love to Ryan’s mouth with his kiss, his other hand splayed against Ryan’s chest. The warm welcome of Ryan’s embrace invited Danny to settle in and stay, and Danny kissed with a little more aggression, rubbing Ryan’s chest through layers of clothing. “Mmm.” Ryan pushed him back slightly, breaking their kiss. “You’re early. And your nose is cold,” Ryan added with a smile, brushing a soft kiss across his cheek. “It’s cold outside,” Danny said. “What’re you looking up?” “I’m working on my Dickens paper,” Ryan said, taking his hands and rubbing them. He was wearing fingerless gloves, which weren’t the warmest thing in December, but the way that Ryan kissed his fingers made up for that. “I can’t find a book that I need. Where’s Red?” “Back there,” Danny said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that his skateboard was still waiting for him. “You want me to help you find it?” “Find what?” Ryan asked, now kissing his knuckles. “Your book,” Danny said, grinning. “Mmm,” Ryan said, and kissed him. Danny wrapped an arm around Ryan’s waist, guiding Ryan closer to his body, sliding a hand up into thick curls. “What book?” Ryan asked around his tongue. “It doesn’t matter,” Danny said, because the way Ryan was rubbing high inside his thigh made everything else seem really unimportant. “Let’s go.” “Where?” Ryan asked breathlessly between kisses, hand so close to his dick that Danny wanted to squirm. “Anywhere we can suck dick,” Danny said. He knew that Ryan wouldn’t try it in the library; he’d asked, often. “Okay,” Ryan said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cool Danny couldn’t take it any longer; he grabbed Ryan’s wrist and pushed Ryan’s hand over a few inches. Ryan’s hand closed firmly over his dick, and Danny groaned, head smacking back into a row of books. God… Ryan kissed his neck, cupping his dick, squeezing rhythmically, rubbing him down. Moaning, Danny caught Ryan’s mouth in a greedy kiss, need rising fast. If they didn’t get moving soon“I hate to bother you, but I need one of the books right behind you.” Danny flashed her a quick smile, wiping his mouth with the back of one gloved hand. “Go ahead, I think we have somewhere else to be,” he said, taking Ryan’s hand and pulling Ryan along. Ducking back for his bookbag, mumbling embarrassed apologies, Ryan followed. Danny picked up his skateboard and tugged Ryan towards the stairwell. “My room or yours?” “Where’s Jeremy?” “What day is today?” Danny asked, starting down the stairs, one hand holding Red, fingers of his other hand lacing through Ryan’s. “Thursday,” Ryan said. “You didn’t go to class, did you?” “One of them,” Danny said. “Jeremy’s going to be at Melissa’s, so my room’s free.” “You didn’t go to biology or astronomy?” “I read the textbook,” Danny said. “I used a highlighter and everything.” They walked outside. “Now don’t you wish you had a coat?” “I’ll walk fast,” Ryan said, unlacing their fingers so that he could tug his sleeves down over his hands. “You want my jacket?” “You’d freeze,” Ryan said. “I’m okay.” “I don’t get cold,” Danny said. “Yeah?” Ryan asked. “That must be a really warm T-shirt.” Danny laughed as they crossed the quad. “You staying over tonight?” “Yeah,” Ryan said. Danny smiled to himself. Cool. When they got to Danny’s dorm, they locked themselves into his room. Danny took off his jacket and nuzzled Ryan’s neck, tucking his cold hands into Ryan’s pockets. Ryan nuzzled back, and they started kissing, Ryan’s tongue soft and insistent in Danny’s mouth, Ryan’s hands cold and stroking on Danny’s back. Danny drew Ryan down to his bed, and they made out for a while, pulling www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cool the blankets up and burrowing into each other. They kicked their sneakers off, and when Danny shimmied out of his T-shirt, Ryan started stroking his chest, rubbing his abs, licking the hard nubs of his nipples. Danny moaned, arching a little, loving the attention, running his fingers through Ryan’s hair. “You wanna suck my dick?” he asked, a little breathlessly, his dick twitching at the idea. “Yeah,” Ryan said against his skin, kissing down over his stomach, already flicking open the buttons on his fly. Danny helped Ryan to push his jeans down, kicking them off and spreading his thighs. Ryan started licking his dick, and Danny moaned, twisting his fingers in Ryan’s curls. Oh, yeah… God, he loved this. He loved getting head, it felt so good, and he loved it from Ryan, loved the way that Ryan sucked on him, loved the way that Ryan swallowed, loved the way that Ryan looked down there. Watching Ryan’s cheeks hollow like that, the dark line of Ryan’s lowered lashes, the way that his dick disappeared between Ryan’s lips, made Danny dizzy with lust, so he closed his eyes, pushing his head back into the pillow, drawing his knees up tighter, trying not to pull on Ryan’s hair too hard. God, the…suction…it felt so…good… Groaning, Danny rocked his hips a little, thrusting just enough to make Ryan suck harder. God, it was, unh, Danny felt Ryan’s fingers stroking across his asshole and he tensed, toes curling, feeling the pleasure swell past the point of possibility and explode inside him, spitting cum thickly down Ryan’s throat. Danny felt his entire body relax, his fingers loosening their hold on Ryan’s hair, his other hand releasing its grip on the sheets, his spine dissolving. He heard and felt Ryan moving, but he knew what was going on, so he didn’t bother to open his eyes. “If you’re asleep, I’m not going to fuck you.” Naked, Ryan kissed his cheek, fingers trailing across his chest. Danny grinned, opening his eyes, admiring Ryan’s dimples. “You want me to roll over?” Ryan’s kiss was deep and urgent. “No, just scream when it feels good,” he said, slipping on a condom. Danny laughed, raising his knees, and Ryan kissed him some more, carefully sliding one lubed finger into his ass. Danny kissed with a little more tongue, his body starting to send some very happy signals as Ryan stroked his prostate. Mmm, yeah. Oh, yeah, that was, yeah, like that, right there… Danny shivered, tugging Ryan closer. He started to get lost in his body’s rising pleasure and Ryan’s hot kiss, but he was brought right back to reality by the slow, thick press of Ryan’s dick. God, it felt, Danny groaned, trying not to tense, digging his fingers into Ryan’s shoulder while Ryan cursed softly. The stretch and fullness of it made him ache in the best possible way, and when Ryan pulled back only to thrust in farther, www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cool Danny moaned Ryan’s name and dragged his blunt nails across Ryan’s collarbone. Something about the sight of his own hand bothered him, and the next thrust sparked such a bright flare inside him that some of it reached his brain and he realized that he was still wearing his gloves. He made a move to pull them off, but the next thrust had him too busy moaning to remember how his hands worked. Ryan ducked his head, licking - - thrust - - across Danny’s wrist, and - thrust - - unfastened Danny’s glove with his - - thrust - - teeth - - thrust - peeling it down - - thrust - - over Danny’s hand and - - thrust - - off, spitting it aside and - - thrust - - moving in for the other one. Ryan kissed Danny’s palm first this time, sucking on his fingers, fucking him in deep, steady rhythm. Danny didn’t know what was making him harder, Ryan’s mouth or Ryan’s dick, the steady explosions in his body or the light scrape of Ryan’s teeth soothed by the quick flick of Danny’s tongue, but he was starting to think that his second orgasm was going to arrive a lot sooner than he’d expected. Ryan was fucking him harder now, faster, dropping his other glove and putting a hand on his chest, stroking, rubbing, flicking at a nipple, twisting it lightly, making him moan Ryan’s name. Ryan’s dark eyes were focused on him, watching his face, and Danny felt heat rising, the intensity in Ryan’s gaze building with every deep thrust. Danny was sweating, his dick aching, his hands rubbing Ryan’s arms with agitated need. He loved getting fucked, but he could never take it for very long; he always started to get restless, needy, pushy. He didn’t know what Ryan was looking for in his face, what Ryan really saw. Something was starting to burn in Ryan’s eyes, something hot and dark, and Ryan’s hand pushed on his chest, holding him down, while Ryan’s dick fucked into him faster, faster, faster. Groaning, trying to buck and twist under Ryan’s body, Danny jacked his own dick, forcing the pleasure on faster, pushing himself closer to climax. He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to come now, he wanted it now, he heard himself moaning things like “now” and “Ryan” and “please.” Ryan’s hips snapped hard, Ryan’s dick slamming in deep, and Danny cried out, jacking his dick a little too hard and coming in a wild rush, cum splattering hot and white across his stomach and up onto his chest. Ryan was moaning a lot of “oh god Danny yes” and coming inside him with one final thrust. Danny welcomed Ryan’s full weight onto him, kissing Ryan’s shoulder, wrapping his arms and legs around Ryan and dragging his fingers slowly through Ryan’s curls. He was glad that Ryan was going to spend the night. His bed was too small, but that just made them share more personal space.


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Cool Besides, Ryan liked to get off first thing each morning, and Danny liked to be around to help him with that. Danny combed his fingers through Ryan’s hair some more. “Tell me about the first time we met.” Ryan laughed against his neck. It made him shiver. “You were there.” “I like the way you tell it.” I was doing research on various mythologies and creation stories, and I was trying to find a certain book in the library, when someone walked up to me and said, “Do you need help with anything?” I turned and looked at him. He was about five foot eight, with short, spiky blond hair and bright blue eyes. He had freckles and a hot, sweet, cute, impish smile. I asked him if he worked there. He just grinned at me and said no, but he’d be happy to help me anyway. I couldn’t tell if he was flirting or trying to make friends, but when he said, “Hi, I’m Danny,” and offered me his hand, I shook it and said, “I’m Ryan.” He had on fingerless gloves and a shirt that said “Punk You” and a tight strand of silver beads around his neck, and he was carrying a skateboard. Guys like that normally don’t walk up to me and try to be my friend, so I assumed that he'd move along shortly. He picked up a book as if he didn’t care which one it was, and asked me with a charmingly bright yet casual smile, “You doing anything later?” I had no idea what he wanted. He was very, very cute, and I loved the way that he kept smiling at me. On the other hand, there were a lot of bizarre people on campus, and it occurred to me that maybe he wanted to recruit me for some religious organization. “Probably studying,” I said. “I have a lot of work to do.” “Okay,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” “Maybe,” I said. He gave me another one of those bright, impish grins and left, and I turned back to the books, forcing myself back to my task and trying to ignore the impulse to chase him down. About fifteen minutes later, when I was standing at the copier, feeding it quarters, I heard a quick, “Hey, Ryan.” I looked up, and Danny, still cute, still hot, handed me a folded piece of paper. “You dropped this,” he said with a smile, and left. I watched him walk away, and then I glanced at the paper, unfolding it, certain that I hadn’t dropped it. It had a phone number, an e-mail address, and “Danny – call me.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cool I had to smile, because there was nothing subtle in that. He’d been hitting on me the whole time, only I’d been too oblivious to pick up on it. I spent a few minutes debating whether I should contact him or not. I wasn’t interested in a one-night stand, but I didn’t have the time to devote to a relationship. Whichever he wanted, I didn’t think I could give him. That smile, though, that smile was irresistible, and I was incredibly attracted to him. As soon as I finished with the copier, I went over to one of the computer terminals and e-mailed Danny, telling him that I'd be free the next night. By the time that I got back to my room, I had an e-mail message waiting for me, telling me that he’d meet me in front of the library. “Did you meet him?” Danny asked, on top now, nuzzling Ryan’s neck. “Yes,” Ryan said, fingers tracing the line of Danny’s spine. “How hot was he?” Danny asked, licking at Ryan’s dimple. Ryan laughed. “Very hot.” “Did you get any?” “Not the first night,” Ryan said. Danny grinned at him. “What about the second night?” Ryan laughed, kissing him. “That’s a whole other story.”


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Cruel, Cruel World

Short, thick, black hair. Eyes so blue that they were striking even several tables away. Pale skin, deliciously red lips. Strong, confident features. Victor stared across the campus dining hall. “What’s his name?” “Jack,” Richard said. Victor tore his gaze from Blue Eyes just long enough to check Richard’s expression. “Jack?” he repeated, gaze wandering back again, drawn to Blue Eyes. “Jack,” Richard confirmed. “But he’s not the real prize.” “He’s not?” Victor asked. How the hell could Jack of the Blue Eyes not be the main attraction? “Wait for Gavin to turn around,” Richard said. There was a smile in his voice. “Or just enjoy the view you have now.” Gavin had to be the guy standing across the table from Jack, hands braced on the tabletop, one knee on a chair. His red T-shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders; Victor’s gaze wandered down a slender back to slim hips and, oh, damn, that was one sweet little ass. “Rumor has it he’s a natural blond,” Richard said. “I haven’t been able to confirm that personally. He hardly ever gives it up.” “What else do you know about Blue Eyes and Sweet Ass?” Victor asked, taking Richard’s advice and enjoying the view. Seated at the table, Jack was gazing up at Gavin, giving Gavin all of his attention; Gavin seemed to be talking steadily, now gesturing with his right hand. The focused look in those big blue eyes, the slight pout to Jack’s red lips as he focused on Gavin’s words, damn, Victor wanted him. “They’re best friends from high school,” Richard said. “Some small town somewhere out of state. They’re roommates. Freshmen.” “The two of them in the same dorm room?” Victor asked, still studying them, unable to look away. Jack nodded in response to whatever Gavin had www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cruel, Cruel World been talking about, saying something in reply. “Tell me where it is so I can break in tonight.” Ignoring that last request, Richard continued on with, “Gavin’s majoring in drama. He wants to be an actor. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, he’s fucking beautiful, and he’s sweet as hell. Can’t act worth shit, but it’s adorable to watch him try.” Still in conversation, Gavin briefly touched Jack’s shoulder. Victor wanted Gavin to turn around so that he could get a clear face shot. Maybe if he got up and walked around the room… “Jack’s an art major. He’s talented, really talented, his stuff’s been in galleries.” “Galleries?” Victor repeated, watching Jack laugh. “He’s a freshman.” “He’s a talented freshman,” Richard said. Jack seemed to catch sight of something behind Gavin, something in Victor and Richard’s direction. Gavin turned, and Victor stopped breathing. Fuck. Ing. Per. Fec. Tion. Gavin smiled. Victor’s heart lurched. Oh, god. He was fucking gorgeous. He was fucking - - those cheekbones, those eyes, that jaw, that nose, that, that, god, just looking at him made Victor dizzy with awe and desire and fascinated shock. A guy walked past Victor’s table, stopped by Gavin, and leaned down to plant a quick, warm, hello kiss on Jack’s lips. Victor’s skin was hot from the sight of Gavin’s beauty, and his stomach twisted in jealous, incredulous knots at seeing someone kiss Jack. “That’s Jack’s boyfriend,” Richard said, knowing and disgusted. “I know him,” Victor said, watching the three of them. “That’s Mason somebody, he’s in half of my classes this semester, he lived down the hall from me last year.” Mason sat down, Gavin sitting beside him. Gavin was turned at an angle, and Victor stared at his profile hungrily, captivated by his utter beauty. “What the hell is he doing with Jack?” “Fucking him, if he’s smart,” Richard said. Mason wasn’t ugly, exactly, but he wasn’t five-star material, either. He wasn’t stupid or worthless or offensive in any way, he was just…Mason. He was interesting enough to talk to, and he seemed pretty on top of his shit during class, but… “We have a betting pool going on how long it’ll take before Mason figures out that Jack’s fucking Gavin behind his back,” Richard said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cruel, Cruel World “Is he?” Richard asked, perking up at the idea. Jack and Gavin, their bodies entwined, Jack pumping his dick deep into Gavin’s sweet ass. Hot moans, hotter kisses, Gavin coming in Jack’s hand and“Nobody’s caught them doing anything, but if you were Jack, and you had that sweet slice of hotness in the same room with you every night, in the next bed, wouldn’t you help yourself to some of that?” Richard asked. “They’re too close to each other, they’ve been best friends for years. They must have spent the last few years doing something together in that small town, and it wasn’t cow-tipping.” “Why is he even pretending to date Mason?” Victor asked. Why would Jack bother to have a boyfriend who was, to be brutally honest, clearly unworthy, when he could have a boyfriend who made jaws drop? Why would Jack even put up the front? And why would Mason fall for it? Didn’t he see what was right in front of him? “Who the hell knows?” Richard asked, in the tone of someone who’d investigated the problem from every angle and had walked away frustrated each time. Jack was almost too good-looking and too successful for his age. Gavin was so fucking gorgeous that it wouldn’t have mattered if he was an asshole, but that open, welcoming smile told Victor that Gavin was as warm, friendly, and sweet as he was beautiful. They were best friends and roommates, and Jack’s boyfriend was… Victor didn’t even know how to describe Mason. The guy was nice, but also kind of bland. Nondescript. So normal, nothing stuck out as noteworthy to set him apart from everyone else. Normal light brown hair. Normal brown eyes. Normal face. Normal body. Normal personality. He was just a regular guy. Jack deserved so much more than normal and regular. Why weren’t Jack and Gavin together? What did Mason have that Jack found more appealing than what Gavin had to offer? Seized with the need to know, Victor stood. “I’m going in,” he told Richard. “Are you kidding me?” Richard asked, startled. “Are you coming?” Victor asked, already on his way. “Hell, yeah,” Richard said, quickly following. Victor walked right over to their table, stopping right behind Gavin, Richard beside him behind Mason, facing Jack. “Hi,” Victor said, looking www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cruel, Cruel World around with a smile, electricity sparking through him at Gavin and Jack’s nearness. “Victor,” Mason said with a smile of recognition. “I’m Richard,” Richard said, offering Gavin his hand. “I remember,” Gavin said with an amused, friendly smile, shaking his hand. “Gavin,” he told Victor, and shook Victor’s hand, too. Touching him made Victor’s dick stiffen. “I’m Jack,” Jack said. “Victor’s in Shakespeare and Hemingway and Restoration Lit. with me,” Mason told Jack. too?”

“Yeah?” Jack asked, with an interested smile. “Did Bauer’s test kill you,

“My essays could only have made less sense if I’d skipped every other word,” Victor said. “Or maybe that would have helped.” If Jack knew details on Mason’s classes, that meant that not only did they talk to each other, but when Mason talked, Jack listened and remembered. They had an actual friendship? That probably made sense; Jack had to be attracted to Mason’s personality, since with Gavin around, there was no way that Jack was with Mason for his body. “How’s the play coming?” Richard asked Gavin. “I can’t wait to see you up on that stage.” “It’s great,” Gavin said, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Rehearsal has been awesome. It keeps me busy, but I’m getting so much out of it. The show’s going to be terrific. You have to come on opening night.” “I will,” Richard said, gazing at Gavin like a horny, love-drunk teenager. Victor would have laughed if he hadn’t felt the same way. “What’s the play?” Victor asked, to get Gavin’s attention, to get Gavin to talk to him and look at him again. Happy blue eyes focused on Victor, and his dick and his brain fell in love at the same time. “It’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’m Lysander. They don’t usually give big parts to freshmen, so I’m working really hard to prove I can handle it.” “We just studied that in class,” Victor said. Maybe he could talk to Gavin about it, discuss interpretations of the text, offer to“I know,” Gavin said. “Mason’s been going over it with me, helping me figure out how to approach the character. Lisa, the director, she says that it’s really made a difference.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cruel, Cruel World “Always happy to help,” Mason said with a quick smile. Victor hated Mason. “Damn,” Jack said, checking his watch. “I have to go.” He slipped his backpack over one shoulder, rising. “I’ll see you later,” he said to Gavin. “I’ll see you sooner,” he said, and kissed Mason. Lifting his tray, he said, “Nice to meet you,” to Victor and Richard, and left. “I should probably go, too,” Mason said. “I have to study for my - - shit, I left my book in your room.” “I’m about to head back there,” Gavin said. “You can come pick it up.” “Great,” Mason said. “Your black sweater’s there, too,” Gavin said, standing. On his feet, he was even closer and even more beautiful, and he and Victor would have been eye-to-eye if Gavin had made the slightest effort to glance in Victor’s direction. “Jack said if you don’t rescue it, he’s keeping it.” “He wishes,” Mason said. “What else did I leave over there?” “We have a pile,” Gavin said, smiling. “I’d better get over there and salvage what I can before Jack decides to keep it,” Mason said. “It was great to see you.” “You, too,” Richard said, gazing at Gavin. “Nice to meet you,” Victor told Gavin. “I’ll see you around sometime,” Gavin said. “Come to opening night if you can make it.” “We’ll be there,” Victor promised. Gavin smiled, and Mason smiled too, and they left. Victor and Richard watched them go. Victor yearned. “Mason’s fucking them,” Richard said. “Both of them.” “Is this a practical joke?” Victor asked, pained. “He’s fucking both of them,” Richard said. “What does he have that we don’t?” Victor asked, still staring in the direction that Gavin had gone. “Both of them,” Richard repeated. “It’s a cruel, cruel world,” Victor said, sitting in Gavin’s vacated chair, defeated. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Cruel, Cruel World “They’re the hottest, sexiest guys on this campus,” Richard said. “In the history of this campus,” Victor said. “And he’s fucking both of them,” Richard said. Devastated, Victor put his face in his hands. What a cruel, cruel joke played upon him by a cruel, cruel world. Beside him, Richard heaved a traumatized sigh. Someone laughed. Male laughter. Happy male laughter. Victor peeked through his fingers. Three guys sat a few tables away. A sexy little goth boy and two redheads. Victor lowered his hands. The redheads were twins. Victor liked twins. “Brandon and Brendan,” Richard said. Intrigued, Victor leaned closer to Richard, keeping his eyes on the twins, and asked, “Which one’s which?” “Brandon’s the one on the left,” Richard said. “Our left. The other guy, his name’s Adrian, he’s a psych major…”


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Two Bodies

Bruce loved guys, Bruce loved dick, Bruce loved sex. Intense, hardcore, groping fucking sex. There was nothing like running his hands over naked flesh, sucking tongue and sucking dick, moaning and sweating and groaning and coming. He wasn’t shy about it, and he didn’t care who knew it. Sex was a natural urge; fucking was a biological pleasure. Whenever he had a free night, he’d go out and pick up a guy or two and fuck, long and hard, sucking dick and fucking ass and overloading his senses with pure male sex. He liked younger guys. He was only twenty-five himself, and most nights he picked up guys who were anywhere from his age to forty. But the guys who caught his eye were younger, college kids, slender twenty-year-olds. Fresh meat. He was a mechanic, so his nights were open. When the shop closed, if he didn’t already have plans with his friends, he went to one of the clubs around town. He wasn’t so hot that he stopped traffic, but he’d been known to turn a head here and there. He stayed in shape, he kept a close shave, he had short light brown hair and what one of his almost-boyfriends had called “sexually intense” blue eyes. He’d had several almost-boyfriends over the years, but never an actual boyfriend. No one he’d ever committed to. He’d come close to establishing long-term relationships, but he’d never been able to promise monogamy. Not that he required a different fuck every night; but no one had ever grabbed his attention long enough to keep his gaze, or his hands, from wandering. One of his closest friends, Mark, did require a different fuck every night. The frequency of Bruce’s sexual encounters was based on Bruce’s healthy, appreciative interest in fucking the male form. Mark was just a slut, by his own admission. When Mark was approached by someone calling himself a pornographer, Bruce wasn’t entirely surprised. Bruce also didn’t believe that the guy was legitimate. But Mark insisted on checking it out, and came back smiling with www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies cash and a story. The pornographer hired guys, amateurs off the street largely gathered through word of mouth, and paid them to fuck each other. They could do whatever they wanted, no script, just sex; and once they were paid, he’d put it on the Net. Mark had been paired with someone he described as a Norse god hung like a stallion. He was happy about the experience and already had agreed to go back for another round. Bruce enjoyed sex, and he couldn’t help but think of the many uses he had for some extra cash. His landlord had just raised the rent, his car was getting to the point where even he couldn’t salvage it, and he was planning a trip to California in a couple of months. A little extra money was just what he needed. Mark assured him that the pornographer was on the level. The guy hadn’t tried to touch him, had paid him exactly what they’d agreed on, hadn’t even suggested that they try any kinky shit. Just sex for money. Bruce thought about it, but he wasn’t sure. The idea of getting paid to fuck somebody was dirty no matter how he looked at it. His honest enjoyment of sex and his interest in the money couldn’t overcome his reluctance to get paid to fuck a stranger. Then his car died. Everyone at the shop did his best, but the facts had to be faced: it was over. He had to get a new car. He got a good one cheap, but not cheap enough, and when it came time to pay the rent, he didn’t have the money. Two hundred bucks short, he went downtown and met his friends at the bar. At a table over some beers, they brainstormed about where he could pick up the extra cash. Another job? A loan? Mark said that if he needed the money immediately, the fastest way to get it would be to talk to Kent. “Kent who?” Bruce asked, tipping back another bottle. “Kent Carlson,” Mark said. “The porno perv?” John asked. “It’s good money and good sex,” Mark said. “Nothing wrong with that.” “I like good sex,” Bruce admitted. “And you could use good money,” Mark reminded him. Bruce took a long swallow and thought about it. Hell. He could at least meet the guy.


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Two Bodies Twenty minutes later, he and Mark were in Kent Carlson’s spacious twobedroom apartment. He talked to Kent about his sexual experience, he met the second cameraman, he showed off his dick, and he was hired. After signing on the dotted line, he asked, “Who am I fucking?” “His name is Cory,” Kent said. “I found him a few weeks ago, but I couldn’t find the right guy to put him with. I think that he’d look great with you. Relax and have a drink, and I’ll call him over.” “I’ve already had a few,” Bruce said as he was handed a beer. “Don’t worry about it,” Kent said. “It’ll help you loosen up and forget the cameras.” Bruce and Mark hung out in the second bedroom, which was where Kent filmed. While the second cameraman adjusted the lighting, they sat on the bed and had a few beers and talked about the last time Mark had been there; he’d had a three-way with the Norse god and a sweet-faced Latino bottom boy. When Bruce cracked open another beer, Mark asked him if he was going to be sober enough to fuck. Bruce couldn’t remember how many he’d already had, but while he’d occasionally been too drunk to drive or too drunk to walk straight or too drunk to string together a coherent sentence, he’d never been too drunk to fuck. At the moment, he was pretty damned smashed, but that wouldn’t slow him down, unless the guy wanted to talk first. Kent walked into the room. “Cory, this is Bruce. Bruce, this is Cory.” Finding his feet, Bruce looked the guy over slowly, feeling heat rise. Cory was young, and Cory was hot. Maybe twenty years old, short near-black hair, thick-lashed dark brown eyes, pale skin, slender build. He was wearing jeans and sneakers, a long-sleeved Nathanson University T-shirt, and a nervous expression. Bruce stared at him, entranced. The contrast of vulnerability and determination in his eyes was captivating, and he was so pretty that just looking at him made Bruce flush with heat all the way through. Gazing, lost, Bruce was deaf to everything that Kent said. Cory was so pretty that it was distracting, so hot that it was maddening, so beautiful that Bruce was intoxicated. “Okay with you?” Kent asked Bruce. “Okay with you?” he asked Cory. “Oh, yeah,” Bruce said, already anticipating the taste of those pink lips, the feel of that smooth skin. He couldn’t look away from those eyes. “Yeah,” Cory said. “Okay,” Kent said. “Mark, you’re going to have to leave the room. Ben, let’s get the cameras rolling. You two can start undressing each other. Bruce, Cory’s never bottomed before, so let’s take this one slowly.”


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Two Bodies Cory stepped out of his sandals, curling bare toes against the carpet. When Bruce walked in closer, soft pink lips parted. “Hi,” Cory said. “Hi,” Bruce said, and kissed him. He was sweet and surprised; Bruce’s hand cupped his nape, keeping him in place, while Bruce’s kiss ravaged his mouth. Cory made an overwhelmed noise and Bruce’s hands went on the move, groping and fondling, squeezing and cupping, feeling over his body. He had slim hips that enhanced the taut curves of his ass, and broad shoulders that he’d just grown into. His long-fingered hands skimmed up Bruce’s arms, grip tightening when Bruce rubbed his dick through his jeans. “Mmm, yeah,” Bruce murmured, loving the feel of a dick in his hand. “Take your shirt off.” Releasing Cory’s cock with a squeeze, Bruce pulled off his own shirt and kicked his shoes side, going down on his knees and pressing his face to Cory’s newly bared abdomen, kissing a firm stomach and licking Cory’s navel. His hands stroked up and rubbed down, relishing the feel of naked skin. Cory’s chest was hairless, his pecs nicely defined, his small nipples hard from Bruce’s touch. When Cory’s fingers slid through Bruce’s hair, Bruce pushed his face into Cory’s crotch, nuzzling the bulge of Cory’s arousal, hands sliding with lusting impatience over Cory’s hips. Unbuttoning, unzipping, Bruce opened Cory’s jeans, pushing them down to his ankles. Cory had on light gray boxer-briefs, and Bruce put his mouth to where Cory’s erection was beginning to strain against the fabric, licking the head. Moaning in aroused surprise, Cory rubbed his naked shoulders, encouraging. Bruce peeled down Cory’s underwear, pausing only to let Cory step free and kick the clothes aside before reaching out with both hands, stroking the thickening hardness of Cory’s dick. It was starting to curve upward as it lifted and filled, and the mushroom cap of a head tempted his mouth. “Gorgeous dick,” Bruce said, kissing the head, licking it, moaning over the press of it against his tongue. “You have a gorgeous dick,” and god, it felt so, tasted so, mmm… Bruce licked the shaft, running his tongue up, down, up again. Cory’s quiet moan coincided with Cory’s fingers tightening in his hair, and Bruce sucked on the head, licking it, wrapping one hand around the shaft and sucking just deep enough to kiss his fist. Cory’s dick was almost as long as his, and thick enough to make things interesting. Bruce cupped Cory’s balls in one hand, other hand sliding down Cory’s thigh, up Cory’s chest, moaning as he stroked smooth, taut skin. Coming off of Cory’s dick with a wet kiss, Bruce sucked on Cory’s balls, Cory’s hands rubbing his neck with need and agitation. Bruce hadn’t had anyone this young, this pretty, this hot in a long time, and he couldn’t wait to experience more, and more, and more. Getting a firm grasp on Cory’s hips, Bruce pulled, yanking Cory down, jerking Cory onto his lap and then spilling Cory back across the floor, Cory www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies unable to catch himself on his hands in time, ass in Bruce’s lap and back arching beautifully to display gorgeous virgin skin, arms flung wide. Bruce dumped Cory’s ass on the floor, spreading Cory’s firm thighs, kneeling between them and nuzzling Cory’s chest, licking and sucking at a tight nipple. “Fuck, Jesus,” Cory whispered. Bruce sucked harder, wanting him, wanting to fuck him, wanting to have him and take him and own him, feeling Cory tense and shiver under his hands as he stroked and caressed and teased deliciously smooth skin. Dimly, Bruce was aware that Kent was saying something; he didn’t care what it was, too busy kissing Cory’s neck, pushing Cory’s thighs wider with his knees and gliding his hands over Cory’s chest. Cory said, “It’s okay, I’m okay,” and rubbed his arms, stroking his shoulders. Bruce lifted his head and kissed Cory, devouring quiet moans, kissing more deeply when exploring hands traveled over his body, feeding off of anxious lust. Cory was delicious, soft sucking mouth and sleek licking tongue. The urge to fuck was driving Bruce’s hips forward; he rocked his dick against Cory’s erection, and even muffled by their kiss, Cory’s hot groans of pleasure made Bruce harder, made Bruce want to fuck him to hear more. A thigh in one hand and a hip in the other, Bruce flipped Cory over, pushing him down onto his stomach and then pulling his hips up to bring him onto his knees, kissing his sweet ass, licking that tight virgin pucker and spreading his thighs wide. Bruce loved ass, loved Cory’s ass, licked the soft skin, squeezed the curves. High, round, pale, tight, it was perfect. “Sweet ass,” he murmured, massaging it, fascinated by its softness, its resiliency. “Sweet, sweet ass.” Oh, yeah, he was going to fuck this baby hard. “Bruce.” Kent’s voice broke through his haze. “Yeah,” he said vaguely, caressing Cory’s ass, leaning in to kiss the small of his back, kissing up his spine, stroking, licking, god, “You taste so good.” “Maybe you should take this to the bed,” Kent said. “No,” Bruce said. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay right where he was. Stroking Cory’s ass, finger riding the cleft, he kissed the back of Cory’s neck, licking one sweetly curved ear. “Gonna fuck you so hard,” he whispered, nuzzling, kissing. “Gonna fuck you so right.” Cory was twisting slightly beneath him, ass rubbing into his touch one second and shying away the next. Cory’s rapid breathing was nervous and eager and hot. Bruce kissed down Cory’s back again, licking hungrily into the cleft of his ass, spreading his cheeks with eager hands. The perfect little pucker of Cory’s asshole had been made to fit Bruce’s tongue, and the longer Bruce licked, the harder his dick throbbed and ached to be in there. He couldn’t go in bare. He and Kent had talked about it. Bruce raised his head, looking for the lube and condoms, finding them right there at his side. 77 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Two Bodies He didn’t remember them being there before, but he didn’t worry about it, shucking off his jeans, quickly getting the condom on and slicking it down. He tested the virgin tunnel with one finger, stretching and lubing, ducking his head to suck at Cory’s balls before pushing in with a second finger while Cory’s quick, responsive moans grew louder. “Mmm, yeah, tight ass,” he said, licking between his fingers. “Gonna fuck your tight ass.” Rising up onto his knees, Bruce grabbed Cory’s hips and pulled Cory closer, ass in position. Taking his dick in one hand, Bruce aimed at the vulnerable target, his other hand holding Cory in place. With one thrust he was in, burying his dick in sweet, hot ass. Cory groaned, lowering his head. Bruce didn’t even pause. Cory was too tight for him, and he was going to come too soon, but he was determined to get a solid fucking out of it. Rocking back, he thrust in again, dick surging deep. His rhythm was steady and the pace was quick, thrust after thrust, slamming into Cory’s ass with the sound of flesh hitting flesh. He pounded that pretty ass, moaning and panting, fucking and fucking and fucking. Holding back was impossible. The idea of it didn’t even cross Bruce’s mind. Cory’s ass felt too good, like nothing he’d ever felt before. He drove in deep and steady, aching all through his body with bone-deep fever, possessed by the urge to fuck and the need to come. Cory’s groans echoed in his mind and his hands couldn’t get enough of that smooth skin. He wanted more. More, and more. Bruce pulled out, flipping Cory over, yanking Cory into place and sliding deep inside. “God,” he groaned, as Cory twitched and panted beneath him. So tight, so perfect, clamping down around him and almost sucking the cum out through his dick. He fucked harder, faster, pounding, balls-deep, hiking Cory’s legs over his shoulders. The way his head was spinning and his vision was blurring told Bruce that he’d better not drag out the moment. The way his dick was throbbing and his body was aching told Bruce that he’d better not put off orgasm a second longer. Driving his dick as deep as it would go, cupping Cory’s ass in both hands and lifting Cory against his body, Bruce kissed Cory’s chest, slamming his dick in hard as he came, feeling hot wild ecstasy pump through his body, groaning incoherently, those sweet ass muscles flexing in his hands as his teeth grazed a nipple. God. Bruce wanted to pass out. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes and waited for the double vision to pass. Popping his dick from Cory’s ass, he shed the condom and slumped forward, kissing Cory’s chest. “God, I love your dick,” he breathed, sliding down and opening his mouth for it, sucking the head. Cory whimpered, then moaned breathlessly, drawing up his knees and arching www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies his back. “So fucking hot,” Bruce said, taking in more, swallowing down to the base and then backing off. “Want you so fucking much,” he muttered, mouthing Cory’s balls before deep-throating that thick erection, humming around it and pushing three fingers into that hot, wet ass. Cory was rubbing his hair, undulating and groaning helplessly, convulsing suddenly and coming down his throat. Swallowing greedily, Bruce kept sucking until there was nothing left, then collapsed, pillowing his head on Cory’s stomach. He needed to take a breather; the room wasn’t just spinning, it was swirling in several directions at once. Cory’s fingers threaded through his hair. Reaching up, he caught that hand and brought it before his face, pressing kisses to the palm, sucking on the fingertips. The second before his eyes closed, his mind registered the sight of a white coral bracelet. Bruce opened his eyes and regretted it. He was tempted to wallow in bed, but that wouldn’t do him any good, so he forced himself up, staggering to the bathroom. Hangover, he definitely had a hangover. He took a piss, then caught sight of the bathroom mirror. There was a note taped there, a scrap of paper with Mark’s handwriting. Call me when you get up, porn star. He wondered what Mark had been doing in his place. He drank some water, made some coffee, took a shower, and shaved. As he dressed, he decided to call Mark. He tried to remember Mark coming home with him. Call me when you get up, porn star. Porn star. Porn. Porn - - Kent Carlson - - Kent’s apartment - - Cory. Cory. Bruce froze, remembering. Remembering that dark hair, those dark eyes, that smooth skin. Remembering being incredibly turned on, rock-hard, luxuriating in the pleasure of Cory’s body. Remembering being drunk as hell and exercising no self-control whatsoever. He’d been drunk, not kind of drunk, drunk off his ass, and they’d let him fuck that kid, that, shit, that virgin. In front of fucking cameras for the world to see. Bruce grabbed the phone, dialing impatiently. “Hey, good morn-” “Get over here. Now.”


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Two Bodies Mark strolled into Bruce’s apartment. “You were so charming on the phone, I rushed right over. What can I do for you?” he asked, dropping familiarly onto the sofa. “You knew I was drunk last night,” Bruce said. “Morning after regrets?” Mark guessed. “Look, you needed the money-” “I don’t care about that,” Bruce said. “It’s Cory.” Saying the name out loud seemed, suddenly, too intimate. God, he’d barely said hello to the guy. What had he even said besides “hi?” “The kid?” Mark asked. “He was cute as hell. Not my type, but damned hot. Great dick, too.” He smirked and corrected himself. “Gorgeous dick.” Gorgeous dick. He’d said that, he remembered that. “You saw us?” Bruce demanded. Hadn’t Kent sent Mark out of the room? “Kent showed me some of the video,” Mark said. “While you were…asleep.” Passed out. He’d fucked Cory and then passed out right on top of him. Fuck. “What the hell were you thinking? Is that how Kent does business? I was drunk, I was practically wasted-” “I was high the first two times I did it,” Mark said. “You were sober enough to sign the contract. Whatever you drank after that was up to you.” “What about Cory?” Bruce demanded, standing over him. “He was a virgin, who knows how much other experience he’s had, he’s young, he’s probably only twenty years old-” “Eighteen.” No. “What?” Bruce asked, willing it to be a lie. “He’s eighteen,” Mark said. Jesus. “He’s barely legal,” Bruce said. God, this was getting worse and worse. Bruce rubbed his hands over his face. He felt like absolute shit, and he couldn’t stop flashing back to just how fucking incredible last night had been, and that only made him feel worse. He could still remember licking Cory’s navel, tasting salt and soap, inhaling musk, smooth skin and slender muscle under his hands. Hell, probably newly acquired muscle. Eighteen? “Was he okay?” “He was fine,” Mark said. “We tried to get you off of him, you started kissing him and mumbling something, you passed out again, we got him free, he got up and got dressed and left. Kent asked him if he was okay, and he said he www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies was. Kent even asked him a couple of times in the middle of taping, and he said he was fine.” Bruce searched back through his memory. He couldn’t remember anything after Cory’s orgasm. He’d rested his head on Cory’s warm stomach, and Cory had touched his hair, and…he’d kissed Cory’s hand…he remembered sucking on Cory’s fingertips…coral bracelet… Shit. He’d passed out with his fingers still up Cory’s ass. Fuck. “Just kill me now,” he groaned, collapsing beside Mark on the couch. “He was fine,” Mark said. “He never pushed you away, he never asked you to stop. He came. And let me tell you how pissed off Kent is that you ruined both cum shots.” “Fuck Kent,” Bruce said. No, as a matter of fact, “Let’s go see Kent.” “Don’t do anything stupid,” Mark warned him. “I won’t,” Bruce promised. He didn’t give a shit about Kent. All he cared about was Cory. Kent had been in charge and in control. Bruce had been drunk, without any higher judgment functions, and it had been Kent’s job to look out for Cory. Kent had failed. Now it was up to Bruce to make sure that Cory was all right. He couldn’t deny that even though most of last night was a blur, it was a hot blur, with vividly erotic moments that even now made his body react. His regret was mixing in with undeniably strong lust, and the product was a protective instinct that he couldn’t explain. Two long days passed before they could see Kent. Two whole fucking days, during which Bruce worried about Cory and plotted Kent’s death. He had to admit that he was becoming somewhat obsessive, which was so unlike him that he had to worry about himself. But his memories of Cory were so intensely sexual that he couldn’t get Cory out of his head. Which meant that he spent most of his time half-hard. At home, at work, in the grocery store, it didn’t matter where he was or what was happening, his mind was on Cory. The wet luxury of Cory’s mouth, the softness of pink lips. The roundness of Cory’s ass, the slimness of Cory’s hips, the lines of Cory’s pelvis that begged to be traced by Bruce’s fingers, by Bruce’s tongue. He’d manhandled Cory. Had he been too rough? Those tiny pink nipples. Those high, round balls. That sweet little asshole, aching to be licked wet by his tongue, tight around his fingers. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies hurt.

He’d fucked too hard, he’d thrust in too fast, he must have hurt Cory, it must have

That gorgeous dick, so perfectly thick, that gentle curve, the delicious head. He remembered swallowing Cory’s dick, swallowing Cory’s cum. His mouth watered; his own dick twitched. Cory had come. He’d made Cory come, Cory must have liked it, Cory must have had a good time. Kissing Cory’s neck. Watching Cory’s back arch. Licking Cory’s spine. Sucking Cory’s fingertips. Flashes of skin, fuzzily remembered sounds of…pleasure? Anxiety and lust rising from Cory in equal parts. Tight muscle fluttering around Bruce’s fingers, around Bruce’s tongue, around Bruce’s dick. He’d been wearing a shirt from Nathanson U. Maybe he went to college there. Maybe Bruce could track him down. Gorgeous, pretty Cory, splayed out across his lap, naked except for one white coral bracelet. Bruce could almost, almost remember waking up to kiss Cory good-bye. Could almost, almost remember stroking his tongue into Cory’s mouth, twisting his fingers deeper inside Cory’s ass, whispering “You’re so beautiful” and “I love you” against soft, gently curving lips. Could almost, almost remember gazing into scared, aroused, uncertain eyes. But that was something his brain was making up. That wasn’t real. That hadn’t happened. Had it? you?”

Had he fucked Cory with intense, greedy lust and then whispered, “I love

Bruce never confused sex with love. He never mistook what his body wanted for what his heart felt. Desire was a great thing, could be a wonderfully strong emotion, but it wasn’t love. But what could explain how he felt about Cory? He wanted Cory with an intensity that almost frightened him. He felt protective, yes, but also possessive. Even though he had absolutely no right to expect Cory to so much as like him, and even though he couldn’t expect to see Cory ever again, the idea of Cory in bed with anyone else made him angry. Viciously angry. He wanted Cory all to himself. He’d done something wrong, and he wanted to make it right. There was more to it than that. Irrationally more. He jacked off each night and each morning, thinking about Cory, remembering the tight grip of Cory’s ass and the delicious smoothness of Cory’s www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies skin. The heat of Cory’s body. The feel of Cory’s hands sliding over his flesh. In the hours between, his body ached with need. Sometimes, when he was honest with himself, he didn’t know if he wanted to track Cory down to apologize, or to try to get laid. Kent refused to give out Cory’s last name. Absolutely refused, even when Bruce pinned him to the wall with a forearm across his neck and a wrench in one hand. Kent could confirm that Cory was a student at Nathanson U., and that he was indeed eighteen. And a physics major. Physics? “Astrophysics, quantum physics, one of those brainiac sciences,” Kent said. “He lives off-campus, apartment housing. Daddy’s got money.” That didn’t make sense. “Then why would he come here?” Bruce asked. “He’s studying too hard to get a job,” Kent said. “He’s taking extra classes. But he needs money. Daddy’s rich, but Daddy’s stingy.” Bruce immediately hated Cory’s father. Kent wouldn’t give Bruce any contact information for Cory, but Kent did agree to give Cory Bruce’s phone number, work number, home address, work address, and e-mail address. “You really want him bad,” Kent said. hand.

“I have to talk to him,” Bruce said, fingers flexing on the wrench in his

“You want a rematch?” Kent asked. “Maybe I can see if he’s interested in pairing up with you again.” Despite the fact that Bruce spent every waking minute fantasizing over Cory’s naked body, the idea of anyone else having even remotely lecherous thoughts about Cory gave him violent tendencies. But Kent’s comments brought up a point that Bruce hadn’t considered. “You said you haven’t heard from him.” “Not since he left here,” Kent said. “Are you planning to call him for another…job?” Fingers flexed. “Oh, yeah,” Kent said. “That’s one sweet piece of-” Bruce slammed Kent into the wall again, and kept him there until it was clearly understood that Kent was never, ever to cast Cory in one of his movies ever again. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies “Then what’s the kid supposed to do for money?” Kent asked. Bruce didn’t know, but he’d come up with something. Bruce had never been on the university’s campus before. It was only a ten-minute drive from work, but it wasn’t his territory. He was a fairly intelligent guy, and a lot of people had told him to go to college, but he loved cars. He was a mechanic at heart, and he’d always be a mechanic, and given the choice between spending four more years in school or getting grease on his hands right away, he’d opted for the grease. After he found visitor parking, he asked around, and was directed to the Hoffmaier building, where most physics classes were held. He hung around outside, taking a seat on a stone bench, watching the front doors. Hours passed. The foot traffic thinned considerably. Night fell. No Cory. He wasn’t going to be daunted. He’d just have to go back. Start asking around. If Cory was a physics major with a heavy course load, someone would be in a class with him; someone would know him. If Cory had been lying, and wasn’t a physics major at all, or wasn’t even a student at the university… Well, then Bruce would go back to Kent and force out more information. Days off were spent on campus. Haunting Hoffmaier. Roaming. Exploring the places were students congregated, like the cafeterias, the libraries, the bookstore, the student union. In the bookstore, Bruce discovered a small stand of jewelry by the cash register. Between a cheap charm bracelet and a strand of fake pearls he found a white coral bracelet. Cory’s bracelet, the exact one. He bought it. He checked in with Kent. Kent had called Cory and given Cory all of his contact information. Cory had sounded fine; hadn’t said much, though. He picked up a few extra shifts. rent.

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Two Bodies During his sixth day on campus, he saw Cory. The visual impact was staggering. Bruce stared, locked in place. Cory was walking out of the physics building, backpack over one shoulder, one hand curled around the strap. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt open over a blue T-shirt. His short, dark hair was gelled in vaguely punk disarray and he looked exactly like the beautiful young man Bruce had now spent weeks obsessing over. While his heart pounded and his dick hardened, Bruce watched Cory walk away. …stroking his tongue into Cory’s mouth, twisting his fingers deeper inside Cory’s ass, whispering “You’re so beautiful” and “I love you” against soft, gently curving lips… Bruce wondered if Cory ever thought about that night. Wondered what Cory thought about that night. Wondered what Cory thought about, what Cory talked about, what Cory’s life was like. He watched until Cory disappeared from view. Bruce had seen Cory just after three o’clock on Wednesday. He traded shifts with one of the guys at the shop, and got his next Wednesday afternoon off. A week later, he was back in front of Hoffmaier, wearing his best jeans and feeling more nervous than he’d ever been in his life. He didn’t get nervous. He didn’t get romantic. He was a fun guy, a straightforward guy, a guy with common sense and a healthy interest in sex. He loved cars, he loved to fuck, and he’d never stayed up at night sweating and fantasizing and jacking off over anyone in his life. Until Cory. He had to keep in mind that he didn’t know Cory. They hadn’t even spoken to each other. They’d had sex, sure, but he had no idea what Cory’s personality was like. Maybe Cory was an arrogant jackass. A fumbling nerd. Had an offensive sense of humor. Had an explosive temper. But Bruce’s mind kept flashing back to a half-remembered gaze into Cory’s eyes, and the vulnerability mixed with desire he’d seen there almost brought him to his knees. No one could live up to the fantasy Cory he’d built in his head. But he had to know who the real Cory was. As three o’clock approached, Bruce walked closer to the front doors. The physics building was on the fringe of campus, away from the main flow of student traffic, and the sidewalks were becoming empty. Suddenly, students poured outside, laughing and joking and complaining as they spilled out across the lawn. A class was letting out. Cory’s class? Bruce listened to snatches of conversation. “-can’t believe it’s three damned chapters85 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Two Bodies ” “-know that I’m going to fail the final-” “-should have figured that out by Tuesday, but-” “-Madison would quit fucking up the curve-” “-starving, do you have any-” “-have to change my major before my head explodes.” A few more students trickled out. Bruce waited. A woman walked out, short and graying and severe-looking, definitely a professor. With Cory. Bruce stepped back, staring, somehow unprepared for the punch to the gut that seeing Cory again brought. Loose gray sweatshirt, red T-shirt collar peeking out underneath, jeans and sneakers, those long lashes downcast as Cory listened with respectful attention. He said yes and no and called her “ma’am” while she said things that Bruce’s high school education hadn’t covered. Bruce had no idea what she was talking about, but she was talking to Cory, and Cory was tall and slender and pretty and his. She was calling Cory “Mr. Madison.” Cory Madison. Cory Madison was fucking up the grading curve. Bruce smiled with pride. The two of them walked down the stairs to the sidewalk. In another few seconds, their conversation ended, and the professor walked off. Cory sat on the next to lowest step, setting his backpack down between his feet and unzipping it. Bruce took a few steps towards him, stopping at the edge of the stairs. Cory pulled out a notebook and a pen, and began to write. Taking notes on what his professor had said? Bruce moved down a step. One step closer. Corey closed his notebook. Bruce walked down the steps, going right past him. Cory didn’t look up. Cory put his notebook back into his bag. Bruce turned, facing him, stepped forward, and crouched down right in front of him, so close that the soft pink curves of Cory’s lips made his dick jerk against his fly. Cory looked up, startled, then froze. Recognition widened his eyes. Trepidation and desire flickered across his face as he swallowed. “What do you want?” “Cory Madison,” Bruce said softly, and pushed Cory’s backpack aside, kneeling closer. “My name is Bruce Kirkwood.” He had to get closer, had to www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies touch. He pushed Cory’s knees apart, sliding his hands over Cory’s thighs, luxuriating in the feel of tight muscle under denim. Arousal flashed through Cory’s eyes as pink lips parted, hands curling into nervous fists. “I had to see you again.” Bruce’s hands stroked up Cory’s thighs, fingers hooking behind Cory’s hips and pulling Cory forward to the edge of the step. “I had to make sure you were all right.” Cory’s hands reached back to the edge of the third step for support. “I’m fine,” he promised in a shaky voice. “Did I hurt you?” Bruce asked, looking deep into those gorgeous dark eyes, almost unaware that his hands were sliding up underneath Cory’s sweatshirt and burrowing under the T-shirt beneath. “No,” Cory said breathlessly, leaning back. “Yes, but it’s okay.” Bruce’s hands found skin. Warm, smooth skin. His fingers crawled up Cory’s ribcage. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, feeling a spasm of pain in his own heart at the knowledge that he’d hurt Cory. “I’m so sorry, baby, it never should have been like that.” His hands slid around to Cory’s slender back. “I never wanted to hurt you.” “It’s okay,” Cory said, breath coming fast. Bruce leaned in, and Cory’s eyes widened. “Bruce,” he whispered, “we can’t.” Bruce’s stomach tightened. “I have to,” he whispered, and kissed Cory’s mouth. With a gasp, Cory’s lips parted, and Bruce’s tongue swept in, his hands tilting Cory back against the steps as his body pressed in chest to chest. Moaning with quiet, confused desperation, Cory clutched up handfuls of Bruce’s shirt, thighs pressing in on either side of Bruce’s waist. He was kissing Cory again. He was kissing Cory, and Cory was kissing him back, and Bruce groaned with rich pleasure, pushing Cory’s shirts up to bare Cory’s stomach for his touch. With an aching moan, Cory moved against him, arching and then grinding dick to dick. Bruce was already so hard that the friction from Cory’s arousal rubbing against him ratcheted up his need to new levels. Sucking greedily at Cory’s kiss, he cupped Cory’s firm ass in two hands, rocking insistently against Cory’s thickening, hardening dick. “No, no, stop.” Cory’s words were low and shocked, not afraid but insistent. Despite his body’s demands, Bruce forcibly jerked himself under control, stilling his hips and breaking away from Cory’s mouth. “We can’t.” There was heat in Cory’s cheeks, fresh color in his lips, and despite his words his groin remained pressed to Bruce’s, the hard bulge of his erection tight to Bruce’s body. Carefully, wondering, Bruce put a hand to Cory’s exposed abdomen, pressing lightly against Cory’s warmth. Panting, Cory shuddered with suffering need, legs locking around Bruce’s waist to ensure their bodies’ closeness. 87 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Two Bodies The desire was too great; Bruce kissed Cory again, swallowing hotly passionate moans from the friction between their bodies. So hard that his toes were curling, Bruce groaned at the soft thrust of Cory’s tongue, pushing Cory’s shirts higher. Cory turned his face away, moaning helplessly, and Bruce lowered his head, sucking greedily over one tight nipple. “No, Bruce…” Cory moaned, twisting with need. “Please…” Panting hot breath over Cory’s nipple, Bruce licked at it, unable to help himself. “Tell me to stop.” “Oh, god,” Cory begged, head falling back against the steps. Reaching behind himself, Bruce unhooked Cory’s feet, easing Cory’s legs from around his waist. He planted Cory’s feet on the step, spreading Cory’s thighs wide apart, and slid down, kissing a line down the center of Cory’s torso, licking at Cory’s navel on his way down to“No, no, stop,” Cory insisted, breathless and panicked. eyes.

Bruce raised his head, raking his gaze up Cory’s body to meet Cory’s “Not,” Cory swallowed, “not here.” Bruce sat back on his heels, removing his hands from Cory’s body.

“Oh, god,” Cory whispered, and remained there, unmoving for a long moment, splayed there on the steps in sexual invitation. Bruce’s gaze lingered on the thickness of the bulge of his arousal, the hard pink nubs of his nipples, the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath, the flush of color across his cheeks, the dark fringe of his lashes. “God,” Cory whispered again, and sat up, closing his legs, tugging down his shirts. Worriedly, he cast a look around, but didn’t seem to notice anything that bothered him. Bruce didn’t care about anyone catching them, for himself, but he should have considered that, for Cory’s sake. He would, in the future. Cory finally made eye contact. “What are you, insane?” angry.

Bruce just smiled, because Cory didn’t sound mad. Disturbed, but not

Shaking his head, Cory adjusted his shirts again and ran a hand over his hair. “You’re establishing a pattern,” he said. “Is this how you always say hello?” Bruce laughed. “No.” “That’s good,” Cory said. He studied Bruce with curious eyes. “Kent gave me your phone number. He said that you wanted to talk to me.” There www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies was a slight pause; Bruce let Cory look at him, looking back with equal interest. “You’re a mechanic?” “Yeah,” Bruce said. “You’re a physics major?” “Nuclear physics,” Cory said. Bruce smiled. Cory was either a genius or ambitious or both, and he liked that. “You must spend a lot of time studying.” “I’m… I’m double majoring in nuclear physics and quantum mechanics with a double minor in atomic physics and astrophysics.” Cory continued on quickly, trying to explain that away. “I don’t usually tell people that because - - I know how it sounds, usually I just say that I’m majoring in nuclear physics and let it go, and even then - - I just couldn’t decide, and I’m genuinely interested in all fields of physics, and I know that it sounds like a lot but really it’s not that much. It’s all just science, really.” Cory’s eyes begged him please not to make a big deal out of it. “Really.” Pretty, sexy as hell, and a physics geek. Bruce never would have guessed that that would be the magical combination that would make him fall in love. “Then thank you for telling me.” “We’ve already had sex, so it doesn’t make sense not to tell you my major,” Cory said, but his eyes were relieved. Bruce had to be sure. “You were a virgin?” Cory pulled his hands into his lap. “Yeah.” Bruce had never had a virgin kink, but he found Cory unbearably sexy. “How much other experience have you had?” Cory licked his lips, averting his gaze. “Not a lot.” Bruce wanted to make love to Cory. He also wanted to know Cory better. Learn Cory’s life. “I’m not even sure what nuclear physics is, but I’d like you to tell me.” Cory’s smile was so touched and so sweet and so warm that Bruce’s heart melted and swelled all at once. “Can we go somewhere?” Bruce asked. “Your place, my place? A restaurant? I’ll buy dinner.” Cory blinked suddenly, then stared at Bruce in shock. “Shit!” Cory was up and scrambling, grabbing his backpack. “I have class, I have a test, I have to go.” Damn it. Bruce stood, wrapping a hand around Cory’s wrist to still him and get his attention, fingers catching in the coral bracelet. “I have to see you again.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies “I have your number,” Cory said. “I’ll call you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have to go.” Because Bruce could see that Cory didn’t want to leave, he let go. “Good luck on your test.” “Bye.” Cory startled him with a kiss on the cheek, then ran. Bruce watched him go with an odd sense of exhilaration. He’d found Cory. He loved Cory. And Cory wanted him. Cory was going to call him. They“Fuck!” Bruce shouted across the empty quad. He’d moved! He’d changed his number! Fuck! On Friday, Bruce finally got in touch with Kent, and gave Kent his new address and phone number. On Monday afternoon, when Bruce got to work, his boss Randy said, “You got a call this morning.” “Yeah?” Bruce asked, distracted, studying the schedule. He’d been trying to switch shifts to get Wednesday afternoon off, but Ted had been uncooperative. If he didn’t get Wednesdayhere.”

“Yeah,” Randy said. “Just some kid, some young guy, asking if you work Bruce snapped to attention. “He didn’t say who he was?”

“No,” Randy said. “You’ve been a little off lately - - your work’s as good as it’s always been, but your head’s been miles away, and you’ve been skipping poker night, changing shifts. If something’s wrong, you need a couple of days off, I can’t do much for you, with Hank quitting I need you more than ever-” “Hank’s quitting?” Bruce asked. “Yeah,” Randy said with a sigh. “Here I am offering you a couple of days off when I was planning to ask you to pick up some extra days.” “I’ll take them,” Bruce said. “I’ll take any time you can give me.” “That’s what I like to hear,” Randy said. “I don’t want to ask this, but are you sure?” “I’m sure,” Bruce said. “I’m trying to get some money together.” Randy would assume that it was for the trip that Bruce had been planning; Bruce didn’t correct that impression. “And if anyone calls for me again, you’ll let me know?” 90 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Two Bodies “Sure thing,” Randy said. Bruce couldn’t get Wednesday afternoon off. He contemplated telling Ted’s girlfriend that Ted had been cheating on her. He wondered how Cory had done on the test. He’d spent Tuesday evening at Mark’s house, on the computer. While he worked on an ’02 Escalade, he went over what he’d learned about nuclear physics, atomic physics, astrophysics, and quantum mechanics. He was mentally reciting the definition of a “quark” when Randy called, “Kirkwood! You’ve got a visitor!” Heat exploded in Bruce’s body. Getting up, he wiped his hands clean, hurrying through the side door and coming into the office. “Thanks,” he said, and Randy nodded, going back out. Both hands in his pockets, Cory gave him a brave smile. “Hi.” Cory. Sizzling lust set in right on schedule. “I moved,” Bruce said, walking around the counter. “My number changed.” He kissed Cory, unable to hold back a moan, drowning in the sweet heat of Cory’s mouth. He’d promised himself that when he saw Cory again they’d talk, that he wouldn’t miss another opportunity to learn who Cory was. But he couldn’t break away from the luxury of Cory’s kiss or the press of Cory’s body or the perfect gift of Cory’s hands on his waist. “How did you,” god, that tongue, “do on your,” oh, mmm, “test?” “A,” Cory said, and Bruce pursued his tongue. “It would have been,” Bruce kissed him, “an A-plus but,” delicious, “I couldn’t think straight.” Bruce’s kiss muffled the rest of the words, but he knew that his visit had been the reason Cory’s mind hadn’t been on the test. GPA.

“Sorry,” he said, because he was sorry; he didn’t want to ruin Cory’s

“It’s okay,” Cory said breathlessly, hands sliding into his hair and tugging him in for another kiss. Bruce groaned, his hands immediately seeking the heat of Cory’s torso under layers of cotton. “You’re dirty,” Cory whispered. “I know,” Bruce whispered, so close that they were almost kissing, closing his eyes to focus on the feel of Cory’s flesh under his hands. He didn’t dare slide his hands down, so they traveled up, up. When his fingers brushed a nipple, Cory gasped, once, softly. “I can recite Planck’s constant,” Bruce murmured, stroking a thumb over each nipple. “I don’t know what it means.” Cory was panting, fingers tightening spasmodically on his hair. “Maybe you can explain it to me.” Cory moaned, squirming away from his touch, then pressing closer. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies Bruce loved a man with sensitive nipples. “What about,” he ever-sogently nipped Cory’s lower lip with his teeth, “Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle?” With a tortured groan, Cory kissed him, Cory’s dick rubbing urgently against his erection, Cory’s hands tugging at his jumpsuit with frustration. Bruce twisted his nipples to make him moan and writhe, then slid both hands down to his ass, cupping and squeezing. “Kirkwood.” Randy sounded fed up, which meant that he was amused. “Get back to work before I fire you.” Bruce tightened his embrace to prevent Cory from jerking away. “Be there in five minutes,” he said, and nuzzled Cory’s ear. garage.

“Five minutes,” Randy muttered, and grumbled his way back into the

Bruce loosened his hold slightly, kissing Cory’s jaw. “I have to go back to work.” “I didn’t know if I should come here,” Cory said, nervousness returning. “I wish you could come here every day,” Bruce said, kissing him until the tension drained out of him and his hands were back on Bruce’s body. “I want to see you tonight.” “Okay,” Cory said, still lost in his kiss. Bruce licked Cory’s lips and cupped Cory’s chin in one hand, looking at Cory’s well-kissed mouth, at Cory’s dark eyes that burned with innocent need. “Meet me outside of Barrington’s at seven.” “Barrington’s,” Cory repeated, his hands rubbing down Bruce’s back. One slow, tender, heated kiss. “I’m so glad you came to see me,” Bruce whispered. Cory kissed him, then slowly pulled away. “Bye.” “Seven o’clock,” Bruce said. Cory left. Bruce got a cold drink from the vending machine and waited for his dick to calm down, then went back to work. Stepping into the garage, he heard wolf whistles and hearty applause. “Way to go, Kirkwood!” “Heard you got yourself a little friend!” Bruce smiled at the guys, flipping them off. They laughed and got back to work with a few chuckling remarks. It was only to be expected that they’d comment; no one had ever come to visit him at work before. Cory was a first for him in a lot of ways. 92 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Two Bodies He hadn’t made a date in…months? Usually he picked men up for onenight stands, and sometimes he ran into the same people in the same places and had sex with them. But an actual date? As soon as work was over, Bruce went home and showered, eagerly anticipating meeting Cory for dinner. He scrubbed thoroughly to wash away sweat and grease. Even though the pairing of the hard-working mechanic and the pretty little rich boy was a terrible cliché, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d left smudges on Cory’s tiny, sweet pink nipples. The idea was tantalizing. And the way that Cory had whispered that soft, haunting, desire-filled, “You’re dirty...” Bruce tugged on his stiffening dick with a soapy hand, closing his eyes. Cory… Bruce wanted Cory so much, he wanted to suck on Cory’s bracelet. When he pulled into Barrington’s lot, he saw Cory standing in the light by the front door. Quickly parking his car, he forced himself to walk - - not run - - towards Cory. Standing too close, he reached for Cory’s hand, his touch skimming Cory’s wrist and stroking the bracelet before he linked their fingers. “It’s good to see you,” he said, his voice coming out low and intense, his gaze locked on Cory’s eyes. “You, too,” Cory said. His gaze kept dropping to Bruce’s mouth before flickering back up. If Cory wanted his mouth, then Cory could have his mouth. Bruce kissed him, tasting those soft lips. “Tell me,” Bruce whispered, kissing him again. Again. “Your nipples.” Cory’s nipples, Cory’s mouth. Pink like candy. Sweet like candy. Bruce kissed him deeper, and he made a soft, aching sound. “Did I get them dirty?” Cory made a noise that was as hungry as it was shocked. “Yes.” Bruce stopped kissing him, fingers skimming back along his jaw. “Did you like that?” Cory hesitated a heartbeat before confessing, “Yes.” They had to go inside. If they didn’t, Bruce was going to fuck Cory right outside Barrington’s front door. Taking Cory’s hand again, Bruce pulled him into the restaurant, forcing himself to smile at the hostess and pretend that he wasn’t raging with lust. “Two, please. Non-smoking.” Seated across the table from Cory, Bruce watched him study the menu by candlelight. Cory was wearing a tucked-in, buttoned-up shirt with jeans. He never wore any jewelry other than the coral bracelet, not even a watch. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies Sometimes his hair was spiked and punked; sometimes it was more conservatively styled and softer-looking, like tonight. He didn’t bite his nails, but he did chew his lower lip, probably without even realizing that he was doing it. “You don’t wear a watch,” Bruce said. He didn’t, either, but he didn’t have a lot to keep track of. it.”

Cory glanced at his wrist. “I used to. I decided that I didn’t really need

There was something off about that answer. Bruce wondered why it sounded…incomplete. a page.

Cory looked back at the menu. “I pawned it,” he said quietly, and turned Fuck. Bruce hated Cory’s father.

Cory was looking at the menu, but he wasn’t reading it. He probably wasn’t even seeing it. “I like your bracelet,” Bruce said. Cory’s eyes found his in surprise. “Thanks.” With a slight blush of red across pale skin, he went back to the menu, this time with more attention. Having made Cory feel better made Bruce feel better. He wondered what Cory was going to order. He wondered what Cory liked to eat. “Are you allergic to anything?” Cory looked surprised again, and amused this time. “No.” His smile quirked. “Are you?” “Abstinence,” Bruce said. Cory laughed, ducking back into the menu, snickering. Bruce smiled. Cory was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He didn’t want to eat dinner; he wanted to eat Cory. Kiss that long neck, suck those little nipples, lick that smooth skin. Lick that sweet ass, mouth those round balls, suck on that gorgeous dick. God, Cory was a feast. He wanted to lick Cory’s ears. Nibble on Cory’s fingertips. “Hey, Bruce.” The waitress leaned familiarly against the booth. “Who’s this cutie?” “Jan, this is Cory.” “Hi,” Cory said. “Hi, Cory,” she said. She straightened up as the manager walked past. “And what will you be having tonight?” she asked in a more professional voice. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies He gave his menu a last, brief glance. “A double cheddar burger, onion rings, and fries.” Hearty teenager food. Bruce loved him. “Good choice,” Jan said approvingly, relaxing as her manager moved on. “And to drink?” She winked. “Don’t make me card you.” “Uh, lemonade,” Cory said with a blush. “Lemonade,” she repeated. “The usual?” she asked Bruce. “The usual,” he said. “I’ll be right back with that lemonade,” she promised Cory with a grin, collecting their menus, and walked off. Smiling nervously, Cory sat back. Bruce watched him, enjoying the view. “So, uh,” Cory fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth before catching himself and lowering his hand, “how old are you?” “Twenty-five,” Bruce said. Cory relaxed slightly, like he’d been worried that the age gap had been wider. “I’m eighteen,” he said, and then looked like he regretted admitting it. “Kent told me,” Bruce said. He watched, but Cory carefully avoided reacting to the name. “Cory,” Bruce said quietly. “Why were you there?” Cory’s face tightened; he met Bruce’s eyes firmly, almost defiantly. “Why were you there?” he asked. That was fair. “I needed the money.” “So did I,” Cory said. Jan appeared, setting their drinks before them, and left. Cory stripped the paper from his straw. Bruce sipped his water. “I did it. My best friend does it. I’m not judging you.” “You don’t have much room to,” Cory said, not looking at him. “Cory.” Bruce reached out, taking Cory’s hand across the table, mating palm to palm. “I just want to know more about you. I care about you and I want to be good to you. I’m not judging you and I don’t want to hurt you.” Cory became still, then scratched his forehead and sighed. “I needed the money. I don’t have time for a job, not even a part-time one. I’ve tried tutoring, typing papers, pawning some of my things… If I sold my car, my dad would kill me.” “What do you drive?” Bruce asked. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies “It’s…a Ford.” Bruce smiled. “What kind of Ford?” “A sports car.” There was no way that Bruce was going to let Cory get away with that answer. “What kind?” “An Ascension,” Cory said. He quickly added, “It’s a-” “It’s an Aston Martin,” Bruce said. Hell fuck. “You have an Aston Martin V12 Ascension S?” Cory swallowed. “My mother gave it to me for my birthday.” Bruce paused for a moment, indulging in car fantasy. Then he pulled himself back to the moment. “How are you paying for tuition?” “My father pays it.” Cory withdrew his hand; Bruce let him. Briefly, Cory met Bruce’s eyes. “He pays my tuition, and he gave me money for the school year. But that’s all I have, and I’m trying to spread it out until the end of next semester, so I’m on a limited budget.” “You don’t have any other money of your own?” “It was placed in trust,” Cory said. “I won’t get it until I’m twenty-one.” “How limited is your limited budget?” Bruce asked, keeping his voice low and calm. Cory was physically withdrawing from him; it was clear that the conversation was making Cory tense. “I had some extra expenses at the beginning of the year,” Cory said. “Lab supplies and textbooks. I have enough to make the rent.” Bruce listened to what Cory wasn’t saying. Like, how much money was left for food. He remembered the feel of Cory’s ribs. “Why aren’t you living on-campus?” “Freshmen can’t get single rooms, and I didn’t want a roommate,” Cory said. “There’s no good way to study in the dorms.” Only very rich kids had trust funds. Only extremely indulgent parents gave Aston Martins to teenagers. “You could ask your father for more money.” “I have enough,” Cory said. Liar. Bruce watched Cory sip his drink and avoid his gaze. It was obvious that Cory was leaving out some very important information. “You could get a roommate. If you saved money on rent and utilities, you’d have more for other things.” Like food. “A roommate who’d give me a chance to study?” Cory asked. “I have an extra bedroom,” Bruce said. “Cheap rent, too.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies Cory’s gaze flew up. “What?” “I’ll give you plenty of space, plenty of privacy, plenty of quiet,” Bruce said. “I promise.” “We can’t,” Cory protested. “We don’t even know each other. We don’t have anything in common.” “Here you go,” Jan said brightly, setting plates down in front of them. “Double cheddar with fries, side of onion rings. Bacon cheese with cheddar fries, baked potato on the side. Everything okay here?” “We’re fine,” Bruce said. “Thanks.” “Enjoy your meal,” she said, and left. Cory looked at his plate. Bruce picked up his burger and took a bite, watching Cory not eat. “I was going to wait to suggest it.” “You shouldn’t have suggested it at all,” Cory said. He reached for the ketchup. “It’s so inappropriate and so fucking insulting I’d walk out of here if I weren’t so hungry.” Ouch. Double ouch. “I didn’t mean it that way.” “Don’t even talk to me about it.” Cory started eating. “I should’ve stayed home. I have a quiz tomorrow, I have a paper due Friday… This is such bullshit, I can’t believe that I fell for it. Do you always prey on stupid young virgins, or is this just a new habit that you’ve only recently picked up?” Jesus. “I won’t talk about it now if you don’t want me to, but you have to let me explain-” “I don’t have to let you do anything,” Cory said. He was eating fast, even for a guy his age. Not out of anger; out of hunger. “I already let you fuck me. Other people might have considered that enough.” Bruce swallowed. Cory didn’t fight fair. He painfully added that to his list of facts. “I’m sorry.” For a lot of things, at this point. “Forget about it,” Cory muttered. Silence reigned over their table. Cory polished off his fries and started on the burger. “So,” he said, “you come here often?” “Yeah,” Bruce said, forcing himself to hold a conversation. “Usually with my friends. The food’s good and the service is fast for a place with candles on the tables.” He risked a question of his own. “Why’d you choose Nathanson?” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies “It has a great physics department,” Cory said. “My father was begging me to go to Harvard, and my mother would have accepted Yale or Princeton, but I wanted to be where Schuller, Hoffman, and Janicak were.” “They’re great theorists?” Bruce guessed. He pushed the plate holding his baked potato across to Cory’s side of the table. In doing so, he risked rejection, but he couldn’t stand the idea of Cory being hungry. “Dr. Schuller is doing incredible work in particle physics, way ahead of everyone else in the field.” “Particle physics,” Bruce repeated. “What is that?” The physics of particles, he’d assume, but what the hell did that mean? Head bent down to his plate, chewing, Cory looked up at Bruce from beneath his lashes. He swallowed. “You don’t have to pretend to be interested.” “I’m interested in you,” Bruce said. “I’m interested in learning more about what you’re into. Physics is your passion.” “Your passion is…cars?” Cory asked without a hint of irony. “Absolutely,” Bruce said. “You don’t know how hard it is to stay here at this table while there’s an Aston Martin in the parking lot.” He’d love to get his hands on it. He wondered if he could get Cory to let him look at it. “Tell me about particle physics. Or quantum mechanics. Or what a nuclear physicist actually does.” Cory ran his tongue over his teeth, pausing in his eating to study Bruce. “Short version or long version?” “If you tell me the long version, I’ll buy you dessert,” Bruce said. Cory pulled the plate bearing Bruce’s baked potato closer. “Long version,” he said, and started talking. Bruce listened. He’d never been stupid, but he also didn’t usually hang out with a highly educated crowd, either, and he didn’t want to seem like an idiot in Cory’s eyes. If he paid close attention, though, he followed what Cory was saying. He’d actually taken physics in high school, although he didn’t remember a thing from it. Maybe because his teacher hadn’t had gorgeous, thick black lashes. After explaining the differences between his chosen fields - - how they overlapped and how they didn’t - - while polishing off two slices of pie, Cory licked a trace of blueberry from his lip and sat back. “Now try to tell me that you’re still interested.” “I’d like to hear more about the Theory of Everything,” Bruce said. “That sounds pretty philosophical.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies Cory opened his mouth, sitting forward to launch into an explanation, then hesitated. “What do you want?” he asked. He was suspicious now, wary, defensive. He hadn’t been that way, not at all, until Bruce had brought up Kent, and money, and Cory’s parents. “Why did you ask me to dinner? Do you want sex? Do you want a live-in…whore?” “I want you,” Bruce said. “Can we talk about this somewhere more private? Your place, or my place?” Cory pushed his plate away a few inches, then met Bruce’s eyes and sighed. “I like you,” he said, “but I don’t know you. We didn’t meet under ideal circumstances. You’ve been very sexually aggressive every time that I’ve seen you. You just asked me to move in with you, even though we barely know each other. I like you, or I want to like you, but every sign in the world is telling me not to trust you.” “I want to talk to you,” Bruce said. “Talk to me, tonight, and let me explain a few things.” “We don’t do very well when we’re alone together,” Cory said. Bruce thought that they did pretty damned well. “I’ll restrain myself.” Cory chewed on his lower lip. “I don’t know which one would be worse, inviting you into my apartment, or going home with you.” “I don’t chop up college kids in bizarre rituals,” Bruce promised. “But if you did, you wouldn’t admit it,” Cory said. “If my apartment’s out and so is yours, where can we go?” Bruce asked. “Hoffmaier,” Cory said. “There’s always someone in the building, so if you attack me I can yell for help. But there are plenty of rooms, so we can talk privately.” “Okay,” Bruce said, reaching for his wallet. “Lead the way.” Even in the dark, the Ascension was an incredible machine. Cory’s was a sleek, glossy black. “Did you choose the color?” Bruce asked. “Yeah,” Cory said. “My mom wanted red.” He wanted to ask how it handled, how it cornered, how it accelerated. He wanted to get a look at the engine and - - but that would come later. In the moment, he had to remain focused on Cory. He followed Cory into the Hoffmaier building and down a short hallway. Around a corner, Cory escorted him into a classroom, closing the door and flipping on the overhead lights. “Okay,” Cory said, walking to the front of www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies the classroom and sitting on the long table there. “What do you want to explain to me?” “When I met you…” Bruce walked towards the table. “I wasn’t myself.” That was a cop-out. “I’d had too many beers, and I was drunk.” Cory folded his hands in his lap. “I…noticed.” “Things didn’t go the way they should have,” Bruce said. “I was drunk and I fucked up. You deserved better. I wanted to apologize to you, to try to make it up to you, so I tracked you down. It took me a while to find you, but I couldn’t get you out of my head. All day, all night, you were there in my thoughts.” Cory laced his fingers tightly, but he kept his voice calm when he said, “You didn’t have to apologize.” get it.”

“You deserved better,” Bruce said. “Somehow, I have to make sure you

“Why do you care?” Cory asked in confusion with an edge of frustration. “I don’t even know why it matters to you.” “It matters because you’re smart and nice and hurt and innocent and beautiful,” Bruce said. “You’re a genius, and you’re pretty as hell. It must have taken a serious glitch somewhere in the world for our paths to cross. Now that they have, I can’t just walk away. You’re too special, and you’re too important. I want to make things right. If I can’t change what happened that night, there has to be something else that I can do.” “You don’t have to-” “That’s why I want you to move in with me,” Bruce said, continuing right on. “You’ll have plenty of space and plenty of privacy. Plenty of quiet.” “You want to improve my quality of life, so you’re asking me to be your live-in whore?” Cory asked. “I don’t think that you know what a bad idea this is. Maybe you don’t know how insulting it sounds.” “You need help,” Bruce said. “I don’t know why you need help, and I don’t know what your family situation is, but I do know that you need help, and I can give it to you.” “Bruce…” Cory sighed. “Thank you. I know that you mean it. But it’s not your place to help me.” “Yes, it is,” Bruce argued. “I hurt you.” “You didn’t hurt me,” Cory said, sliding down from the table. “You fucked me for money. That actually makes us even, because I fucked you for money, too. You bought me a nice dinner, and you gave me your potato. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies You’ve fulfilled any obligation to me.” He held out his hand. “Now we can say good-bye.” Bruce looked at Cory’s hand, then into Cory’s pointedly decisive, darkeyed gaze. “If I touch you, you’re going to end up naked on this floor with my dick up your ass.” Slowly, Cory withdrew his hand. “Let me help you,” Bruce said quietly. “Thank you,” Cory said, “but I can help myself.” Giving Bruce a wide berth, he left the classroom. Bruce followed Cory home. He didn’t know if Cory noticed; that didn’t matter. As he drove, he studied the Ascension’s lines and tried to decide when he’d become so far gone that he was more turned on by a hot guy than by a hot car. Usually, sex was easy to come by, but a machine like that was special. But no car could ever compare to the sleek lines of Cory’s body. No headlights could burn brighter than the heat of need in Cory’s eyes. When Cory pulled into the parking lot of a recently abandoned pizza place, Bruce parked right beside him. When Cory cut his engine, Bruce did the same. When Cory got out of his car, Bruce got out, too, walking around to meet him by the front bumpers. “You’re following me,” Cory said. “I want to know where you live,” Bruce said. There was no sense in denying it. Cory sighed. “Why? For what?” “I want to help you,” Bruce said. “You want to fuck me,” Cory said. “You don’t have to pretend that there’s more to it than that,” he added earnestly. “There’s a lot more to it than just that,” Bruce said. “Listen, if you move in with me, splitting the rent, splitting the utilities, that’s money right there. I won’t get in your way. I can fit my schedule around yours. If you spend an hour each Saturday dusting and running the dishwasher, I’ll pay a little extra rent. More if you do laundry. I hate doing laundry.” “We don’t know each other,” Cory said. “I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. You have friends and a life. I’m very focused on my classes. You’ll come home drunk with a guy you picked up, and I’ll be shushing you so I can study.”


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Two Bodies “If I can fuck you, I won’t pick up anyone else,” Bruce said. It scared him that he meant it, but it was almost a dangerous thrill. Monogamy. Commitment. What would that be like? The same one person, all of the time. Swearing off other people for good. Seeing a guy and not being free to hit on him. “This is crazy.” Cory stared at him. “This is crazy! We barely exchanged names before we got paid to have sex, and now you’re stalking me and you want me to move in with you? We just had our first date! It ended ten minutes ago!” “I want to be with you,” Bruce said. “You don’t know me!” Cory protested. “Then let me get to know you,” Bruce said. “Tell me who you are. Tell me how I can help you. Tell me why you drive this car but you’re pawning your watch for grocery money.” “That’s not really your business,” Cory said. They were stuck. Bruce was determined to help, and Cory was determined to refuse. “What will you let me do?” “Maybe you shouldn’t do anything,” Cory said. “Maybe this should be the end of it.” No. Absolutely not. “Can I take you to dinner again?” “I don’t know,” Cory said. “We don’t have anything in common. Under normal circumstances, we never would have met.” “Can I fuck you?” Bruce asked, determined to get a yes out of him somehow. “No,” Cory said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You can say good-bye.” “I’m twenty-five,” Bruce said. “I’ve fucked more men than I can remember. No one has ever gotten to me the way that you have.” “You’ll get over it,” Cory said, almost pleading. “I’m infatuated,” Bruce said. “I’m obsessed. When you say good-bye to me tonight, it won’t be over. I’m going to show up again, and again, and again.” “You’re actually going to stalk me?” Cory asked, disbelieving. “Why do you care? I know that you feel guilty for being drunk when we…met, but you apologized and you took me out to dinner. Why can’t that be the end of it? What do you want?” “I want you!” Bruce shouted. He’d worked hard to track Cory down, and now Cory was trying to say good-bye, already. He couldn’t lose Cory now, 102 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

Two Bodies not after he’d finally found him. “Give me a chance. Dinner, again, or something else. You have to study, we can hang out at the library, I’ll carry your books for you. Anything. Laundry, I hate laundry, but I’d love to do it with you.” Cory was silent, looking conflicted. itself.

“Please,” Bruce said. He couldn’t explain why his heart was twisting into “Why can’t we touch without needing more?” Cory asked. “I want you,” Bruce said.

“It’s more than that,” Cory said. He smiled uncertainly. “Or do you jump on everyone you’re interested in like that?” “No,” Bruce admitted. “Usually I can control myself.” Raising one hand, he fitted his palm to Cory’s cheek. Cory’s gaze didn’t waver; Bruce’s knees were shaking. “You’re not usual in my life.” “You’re not usual in my life, either,” Cory said. Bruce kissed him. The taste of him, the feel of him, god, it was incredible, it was magnificent. Groaning, Bruce jerked Cory’s hips flush to his, grinding arousal against arousal. Cory moaned, and Bruce pushed him back into the passenger side door, kissing him hungrily, devouring his soft, greedy mouth. Bruce wanted to fuck him there against the car. Bent forward over the hood. In the backseat. God, right there on the asphalt. Driven by his body’s urges, Bruce gripped Cory’s sweetly curving ass and turned his face against Cory’s neck, panting. He couldn’t stop; he sucked at the warm, soft skin he found there, listening to Cory’s desperate groans as their bodies moved in eager, primal rhythms. Cory moaned his name, pulling the back of his shirt from his waistband in one overeager fist. Cory’s hands flattened against his back, rubbing up over naked flesh as Cory breathed in his ear. Cory deserved better. They were in public in a grimy setting. He couldn’t fuck Cory out in the open air, in a public parking lot by an abandoned building. He’d been trying to make amends for his previous behavior, but this would only prove that Cory shouldn’t trust him. Sliding his hands over slim hips, Bruce tugged at Cory’s collar with his teeth until it opened. He licked over Cory’s throat, tongue finding the hollow at the center of Cory’s collarbone. “Come home with me.” Panting, shuddering, Cory held onto Bruce’s shoulders as he writhed against Bruce’s body. “I… Oh…” “You feel so good,” Bruce said against his neck, hands sliding firmly up over Cory’s chest. He jerked Cory’s shirt open, peeling it back to reveal a thin www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies white T-shirt. Bruce’s exploring hands found the tiny nubs of Cory’s nipples, and while Cory moaned, Bruce teased his easily exploited weakness. “You feel so good, baby, I want to fuck you.” Cory’s neck was smooth and Cory’s moans were intoxicating and Cory’s hands were sliding under Bruce’s shirt. “Come home with me.” “Stop.” Cory sounded like he’d rather be saying anything than the words coming out of his mouth. “Wait, stop.” Bruce closed his eyes, his hands balling into fists on either side of Cory’s waist. He rested his forehead against Cory’s. “Let me come home with you.” The slow, affectionate stroke of Cory’s fingers through Bruce’s hair drove Bruce’s hips to grind with impatient insistence against Cory’s erection. Cory’s moan was sex in Bruce’s ears, and then they were kissing again, hungry and fevered. Bruce dropped heavily onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling in the dark. He had to undress, had to shower Cory’s sex from his body. He hadn’t gone home with Cory, and Cory hadn’t come home with him. He’d fucked Cory right there in his car in the parking lot, in the backseat. His beautiful, smooth-skinned Cory had proven to be very…flexible. Now, alone in his apartment, Bruce cursed himself. What if the police had come? What if he’d caused a humiliated, degraded Cory to be hauled off to jail? What the fuck had he been thinking? He’d been thinking about how amazingly good Cory felt against his body. He’d been thinking about how he needed to make love to Cory again. He’d been thinking about how hard his throbbing dick was and how he could ease that ache. It had been even better this time. Better, because he’d been more aware, more alert, not drunk and fuzzy-headed. He’d been attuned to Cory’s responses, each grateful moan and shocked breath, each begging word and pleading curse, each twitch and shudder. The sound of Cory in pleasure, the sound of Cory in orgasm - - god, the sounds were as rich and varied as a symphony. He hadn’t wanted to let Cory go. Damn, it had been hard to let Cory ease out of his grip and put all of that physical space between their bodies. It had been nearly impossible to watch Cory drive away. Bruce rubbed at his eyes with impatient fingers. Why did Cory matter this much? Why was one guy this important? Was it the great sex? He’d had great sex before and it hadn’t made him stupid and weak like this. Was it the urge to help Cory? He’d never wanted to play the Good Samaritan before. What was his problem? www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies When he closed his eyes, he fell back into memory, himself and Cory crammed into the backseat, his hands greedy for every inch of Cory’s limber body, their skin slick with sweat, their sexual groans filling the car as steam covered the windows. He had to get a grip. He had to learn to keep his hands to himself. He overreacted to Cory’s mere presence, and that was crazy. He wasn’t a horny kid. He had to stop feeling Cory up and trying to get off every time they saw each other. He couldn’t say that he respected Cory and then treat Cory like a cheap little trick. No wonder Cory didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust himself. Not when it came to Cory. His hormones went into overdrive, and his emotions... A week after seeing Cory, Bruce went to his usual Wednesday afternoon haunt and waited for Cory outside the Hoffmaier building. At the predicted time, students came out through the front doors. A moment after they’d gone their separate ways, Cory walked outside. Seeing Bruce standing there waiting for him, Cory hesitated, curling a hand around his backpack strap with a nervous smile. “Hi.” “I’m sorry about last time,” Bruce said. “Sorry?” Cory asked, an uncertain expression crossing his face. “I’m sorry about the car,” Bruce said. “It was the wrong place, maybe the wrong time. You deserve better, and I have to stop just saying that and start doing it.” “Okay,” Cory said hesitantly. “How?” “You tell me,” Bruce said. “What can I do for you?” “Uh… I don’t know,” Cory said. “My next class was cancelled for today, so I was going to go home and get some homework done.” Bruce wanted to be with him. Be right by his side, in any place, during any activity. Being in Cory’s apartment, watching Cory study, it sounded like a heaven all of its own. “Let me come with you.” “I really have to get work done,” Cory said. “I’ve been so distracted lately… I haven’t been productive.” His gaze was steady, but a blush crept up over his features. He’d been distracting Cory. Even when he hadn’t been around. Bruce smiled. He wanted to fuck his sweet Cory’s sweet body and watch, feel, Cory www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies move against him. “I’ll do my best not to distract you too much. I’ll just watch. If I get in the way, you can kick me out.” Cory at work; it sounded fascinating. How did Cory approach homework? How did he look doing it? Bruce imagined him quietly focused. “Watch me study?” Cory asked with a puzzled head tilt. “You’ll be bored in two minutes.” “No, I won’t,” Bruce promised. Looking at Cory could never be boring. “Okay, but you don’t have to stay,” Cory said. He’d be happy to stay wherever Cory was. Cory had a one-bedroom apartment. It was a small place, and well-kept. It was a cheap apartment in a cheap building, but all of the furniture looked expensive as hell. The black leather living room set had to have cost about a year’s rent all by itself. Was this Cory’s version of furnishing his new place with his parents’ cast-offs? Or had his parents bought him new furniture for his new apartment? Why go to the expense, if they weren’t going to ensure that he had adequate grocery money? The bed was out in plain sight, tucked into one corner of the main room. The bedroom had been converted into an office bearing a massive wooden desk, a luxurious executive chair, a coffee table and sofa, and two bookshelves, one crammed full of horror novels and biographies, the other overflowing with what Bruce decided had to be every book ever written that even remotely related to physics. On top of the desk was a computer with a monitor larger than Bruce’s TV screen. Cory dropped his backpack on the floor, then heaved thick notebooks and heavy textbooks out of it, dumping them onto the table. “Do you want something to eat?” “I’ll eat when you eat,” Bruce said. to eat?”

“I’m eating now,” Cory said with an amused smile. “What do you want

“I’ll eat what you eat,” Bruce said. Cory kissed him, slowly, more slowly, with tender strokes of a soft tongue. Bruce’s eyes closed; his hand rose to cup Cory’s cheek. So perfect, so intimate… lips.

“I hope you like peanut butter,” Cory said, pulling back and licking his

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Two Bodies setting it over a burner. “Pretend I’m not here,” Bruce said. “I want to see you in your own habitat, in your normal routine.” “I can’t ignore a guest,” Cory said, getting out slices of bread. “I’m not a guest,” Bruce said as Cory opened the fridge to get jelly. Cory’s refrigerator was almost empty. Milk, mustard, butter, eggs, jelly. “I’m an observer.” He hadn’t seen much in the cabinets, either. Peanut butter, cans of soup. “You don’t eat enough.” “Is that an official observation?” Cory asked. His tone of voice was almost calm, but there was a slight, bitter edge to it that warned Bruce to back off. Bruce decided not to push the issue, and didn’t respond. Taking down heavy cut glass tumblers from the cupboard, Cory poured simple tap water over ice. “If you get bored, you can watch TV. I don’t get cable, but there are videotapes and DVD’s in the cabinet.” He didn’t get cable? He couldn’t afford cable. If Bruce asked, though, Cory would probably just say that he was too busy to watch. Too busy to eat, too? Bruce caught Cory’s hand, tugging him closer. Cory came to him easily, unable to deny their bodies’ natural magnetic attraction, but avoided his eyes. “Thank you for letting me come over,” Bruce said, brushing gentle kisses over Cory’s temple. “I’m not sorry about last time,” Cory said. “I’m not sorry about the car.” His expressive, dark eyes shone with desire as he raised his gaze to Bruce’s. “I’ll never apologize for it.” Bruce took Cory’s face in both hands, sliding his thumbs over high cheekbones, caught by those eyes. “It was illegal, and it was risky, and it was stupid.” “It was what we both wanted,” Cory said. His mouth was close enough to kiss, pink lips parted, and the desire in his eyes was just asking Bruce to make a move. “I don’t know what we’re doing together, or why we can’t stop.” “I don’t know, either.” His hands slid down Cory’s back, easing Cory against his body from chest to groin. “You always feel…so good…” he groaned, eyes falling shut. Cory’s firm, slender body fitted perfectly to his. He remembered Cory’s back against his chest, Cory’s ass nestled to his groin, Cory’s scent“Shit.” Cory jerked away from him, and Bruce’s eyes snapped open suddenly, his arms empty, his front side feeling exposed and bare. “Sorry,” Cory said quickly, shifting the pot from one burner to the next. “It was boiling over.” Bruce was happy to be in a room with Cory, happy to be in Cory’s apartment, happy to be sharing a domestic meal, and looking forward to www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies spending the evening together. More than happy. Grateful. Thrilled. Cory was smart and passionate and complex, and Bruce was in love with him. Cory took his sandwich, soup, and water into the office and sat at the oversized desk, opening books and getting to work. Bruce sat on the sofa, eating and watching him. The meal was demolished in seconds, and then all of Cory’s attention was firmly focused on the task at hand. He did all of his writing and most of his page-flipping with his right hand, his left hand free to burrow into his hair. After a few minutes he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks and brought his legs up, tucking his feet up into the chair. Considering how eagerly Cory had devoured his meal at the restaurant, and how quickly he’d polished off this soup and sandwich, Bruce wondered how much he usually ate, and how often. Cory had permitted him to visit, which indicated that Cory trusted him. During even the most casual visit, truths could be exposed. Even innocent truths, easily explained away truths, like an empty fridge or no cable, were important clues, when taken together. It was possible that Cory was simply behind in his grocery shopping. meals.

It was possible that Cory didn’t cook, but had regular, healthy, simple So he ate quickly; so what? So did every other guy his age.

But something was wrong. Something was very wrong when someone sitting on a five hundred-dollar desk chair had to sell his body for money. Quietly, Bruce roamed the apartment. It wasn’t a mess, but it wasn’t spotless, either, which was nice. It was obvious that someone lived there, someone who bothered to hang up towels but did so haphazardly, someone who didn’t make his bed, someone who owned a hell of a lot of clothes and apparently disliked laundry as much as Bruce did, someone who read Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time repeatedly, judging from the used look of the book by the bed. It was a very nice bed. King-sized, four-poster, ridiculously out of place in the living room of this cheap apartment. The rumpled sheets and thick spread tempted Bruce; he wanted to linger and picture Cory asleep there, or fetch Cory and deposit him in the center of the bed and start peeling off clothes. But Cory was busy, and Bruce had promised not to interfere. The TV was one of those huge flat-panel things that no one Bruce knew actually had. The cabinet against the wall was filled with videotapes and DVD’s, www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies movie after movie, most of them thrillers, a few of them National Geographictype specials. Bruce returned to the office, where Cory was absorbed in his work. He studied the back of Cory’s head, his gaze running over silky black hair before caressing Cory’s nape. Cory flipped back a few pages, then jotted down something. Turning his back, Bruce scanned the bookshelves. He’d do better with the novels; at least those he was sure that he could follow. But he wanted to learn more about who Cory was and what Cory was interested in, which meant reading one of the physics books. That presented a whole new problem: which book? Bruce took a few off of the shelf, to check them out, but they all seemed a little advanced. It was like reading a bad translation of Martian. Not wanting to disturb Cory’s concentration, Bruce studied the shelves more closely, trying to find something that would qualify as Physics for Dummies. After a few wrong selections, he came across something relatively simple, and settled down on the sofa to read. Several hours later, Bruce set the book aside and left the room. From the main room, with the office door shut, he called his favorite Chinese food place. He didn’t know what Cory would like, so he ordered enough food for several people. Cory could just keep the leftovers. And, if it turned out that Cory didn’t like Chinese food at all, Bruce would order pizza. What the hell. He went ahead and called for pizza. Going back into the office, he lingered in the doorway, watching. Long, pale fingers twisted in short, black hair. Curled up in the chair, absorbed in his work, Cory seemed to have forgotten that Bruce existed. Bruce smiled. He found that endearing. He liked that Cory was focused enough to shut out everything else; he liked that Cory had a passion. It gave Cory depth and purpose. Cory wouldn’t wander through an unfocused life. After taking a nice, long look, Bruce quietly closed the office door and went to the kitchen. He washed dishes and scrubbed down the counter, then wiped off the table and moved on to tidy up the living room. He was changing the sheets on the bed when someone knocked sharply at the front door. Bruce made it across to the office in record time. Sticking his head in, he caught Cory looking startled and confused, as though wakening from a deep sleep. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” He closed the door again and went to the front door, where the deliveryman was loaded down with bags of food. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies Finding clean plates and heavy silver forks, Bruce spread the meal across the coffee table in front of the TV. When the second delivery guy arrived, with three boxes of pizza and a couple of two-liter bottles of soda, Bruce poured out some Coke. After looking through the movie cabinet, Bruce found the box with the most obvious wear, and popped that movie into the VCR. He wanted Cory to have a calm night with a full stomach, and maybe watching an old favorite would soothe that busy brain. With everything ready, Bruce tapped at the office door, opening it. “Hey.” He couldn’t resist making physical contact after all of these hours, so he walked closer and slid his hand through Cory’s hair, smoothing the mess that Cory’s fingers had made. “Come and get something to eat.” “Who was at the door?” Cory asked, setting aside a pen and swiveling his chair around to face Bruce. He rubbed absently at one eye, unfolding his legs. “Is this how you spend every night?” Bruce asked, bracing his hands on the armrests as he crouched down in front of Cory. “Yeah,” Cory said. “You get up in the morning, you go to school, you have classes all day, then you come back here and study until you go to bed?” “Yeah,” Cory said. Bruce shook his head. “You work too hard.” “I have a double major and a double minor,” Cory said. He leaned in for a chaste kiss, then kissed Cory’s cheek, too. “I’m proud of you,” he said, sliding his fingers through Cory’s hair again. “Thanks,” Cory said, sounding surprised. Another kiss sweetly stolen. “Are you ready for class tomorrow? Can you take an hour off?” Cory glanced back at the notebooks spread over his desk. “Yeah.” Curious eyes looked at Bruce. “Why?” “To eat,” Bruce said. “I’m hungry, so I ordered food. Come on.” Rising, he tugged Cory up from the chair and into his arms. Cory met him in a slow, feasting kiss. Bruce moaned, already slipping his hands under Cory’s shirt. The food was getting cold but, mmm, Cory was getting hot… Groaning, Cory arched and then ground against him, and the urgent hardening of Bruce’s dick in response made Bruce echo that groan. Bruce’s brain sped ahead in time, predicting the events to follow. He and Cory be unable to pull away from each other, so the situation would www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies escalate. Rock-hard and caught up in the moment, lusting for Cory and responding to Cory’s sexual hunger, Bruce would clear the coffee table and lay Cory on it. Granted, it wouldn’t be public sex, with other people in the room, broadcast over the Internet, or in a car in a parking lot on a populated street. But it wasn’t right. Just once, Bruce wanted to make love to Cory in the intimacy of a shared bed, instead of rutting on any available surface. Why couldn’t he manage to rein in his dick enough to show Cory even a little respect? Cory was going to have a nice, calm evening. A satisfying dinner, a favorite movie. Maybe sex, but only after dinner. Their intense, sexual need for each other made it hard for Bruce to break their embrace. Cory was moaning around his tongue and pushing up his shirt to rub over his chest and grinding against his dick. When Cory was simply standing still, Bruce couldn’t control himself; when Cory was aroused and intent on fucking, how was Bruce supposed to be able to say no? In the end, he couldn’t refuse, not completely. Even if he could tell his dick that he wasn’t going to fuck Cory, he couldn’t back away from Cory’s delicious erotic need. Dropping to his knees, Bruce opened Cory’s jeans with professional efficiency and pulled Cory’s gorgeous dick into his mouth. Groaning, he swallowed the thick shaft, the fat head nudging down the back of his throat. He moved on and off of it in quick, steady rhythm, while Cory moaned in shocked pleasure. When the muscles in Cory’s legs began to fail, Bruce pushed him down onto the office chair, pulling his ass to the edge and pushing his thighs apart. Groaning Bruce’s name and making inviting, sexual sounds of pleasure, Cory rubbed Bruce’s shoulders and tugged at Bruce’s hair, hips rocking out of his control. With one hand wrapped around the base of Cory’s dick, Bruce sucked hard enough to make Cory beg for more, using his own spit and Cory’s precum to wet the first fingers of his other hand. He pushed one finger up into Cory’s asshole, and heard a reverberating groan that turned from encouraging to demanding in the space of two strokes. Picking up the rhythm of his suction, Bruce rubbed Cory’s prostate, and by the time Cory’s dick jerked in his mouth and thick strands of cum shot down Bruce’s throat, Cory was shuddering with the force of orgasm. A few final sucks and Bruce swallowed the last of Cory’s jism, gently sliding his finger out. He left a few warm kisses on Cory’s abdomen and chest through his shirt, then leaned up and kissed Cory’s mouth. Cory’s kiss was lazy, post-orgasm, and innocently grateful. When Bruce sat back, he took a moment to admire the flush of passion across Cory’s face.


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Two Bodies His dick was achingly hard, with precum leaking inside his underwear, and Cory was ripe for the taking. All he had to do was pull Cory down onto his lap and“Get up,” Bruce said briskly, forcing himself to his feet. “I’m starving, and if we stay in here any longer, the food be cold.” “We can reheat it,” Cory said, rising and tucking himself away, redoing his fly. “We don’t have to stop now.” One hand reached for the bulge in Bruce’s jeans, palming it warmly. “God, you’re so hard,” Cory murmured, pressing into Bruce’s embrace and rubbing his dick, moaning softly. The exquisite torture of Cory’s obvious desire made Bruce curse as he pried Cory’s fingers free. “Cory, baby, no, not now. Let’s eat first.” Cory hesitated, slowly withdrawing. “All right,” he said, a small frown crossing his face. Bruce kissed him, then pushed him toward the door. “I’m starving,” he said again, although his need for Cory was greater than any need for food. Entering the living room, Cory stopped short and turned to him with a wondering half-smile, half-frown. “What did you do?” “Ordered food,” Bruce said. “From where?” Cory asked. “The Chinese Pizza Hut?” He walked over to the couch. “You have enough food for fifteen people here.” “I didn’t know what you wanted.” Cory laughed. “You could have asked me,” he said, taking a seat. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” Bruce said, sitting beside him. Cory surveyed the feast before them, then turned and kissed Bruce, sliding a firm hand up his thigh. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you,” Bruce said, kissing him back. He wanted to drag Cory closer and ease his dick into that tight ass and, god… “What do you want to do?” Cory asked softly, fingertips stroking down the side of Bruce’s face and across the lines of Bruce’s mouth as his other hand worked its way up Bruce’s inner thigh. “Feed me, or fuck me?” Groaning, Bruce couldn’t even speak as Cory’s palm pressed against his erection. His head fell back as his body tensed. “Cory… Oh, god, yes, yes…” He’d been so damned hard and so damned eager for it, the first time he fucked Cory, he was barely in before he was coming. So he had to do it again, for the sake of his own self-respect. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies While Cory showered, Bruce cleaned off the sofa. While Bruce showered, Cory heated up the food again. Then they settled comfortably on the sofa to watch a movie and eat everything in sight. After Cory finished off enough food for five people, he curled up familiarly against Bruce, his arm around Bruce’s shoulders and his face in the crook of Bruce’s neck. Bruce gently petted him, his soft silky hair, his smooth skin, even after he fell asleep, even after the movie ended. Eventually, Bruce remembered that Cory had classes in the morning, and that he himself had to go to work in the morning. He slid his fingers down Cory’s cheek and whispered, “Cory. Cory, baby, it’s time to go to bed.” Cory roused with a sleepy noise, gradually blinking his eyes open. “You should go to bed,” Bruce said. “Okay,” Cory said vaguely, and sat up straighter. Bruce rubbed his slender, naked back. “Can I come with you?” “Mmm, yeah,” Cory said. He took Bruce’s hand and led the way over to his bed. He clicked on a corner lamp, then became still. “Did you make my bed?” “I changed the sheets,” Bruce said. “You were busy,” Cory said, getting into the bed. When Bruce got in beside him, Cory gave him a slow, friendly kiss. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” Bruce said, skinning out of his underwear and pulling his gorgeous Cory against his body. “What else did you do?” Cory asked, his voice curious, his hand rubbing down Bruce’s shoulder and over Bruce’s bicep. you.”

“I read,” Bruce said, wrapping his arms around Cory’s waist. “I watched “What’d you read?” Cory asked, gazing into Bruce’s face.

Bruce had no idea how Cory had gone from deeply asleep to awake and interested in one minute. “A book,” he said, having no idea about the title. “It had a blue cover.” Cory laughed. “What was it about?” “It was an introduction to physics,” he said. “It talked a lot about Isaac Newton and the laws of motion.” “Yeah?” Cory asked, encouraging but not pushing. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies “I think I actually remember them,” Bruce said. “I know that for every motion there’s an equal and opposite reaction.” Cory’s smile was so happy, so deep-down richly pleased, that Bruce felt a warm flush of pride. “And…” He tried to remember the phrasing. “Every object at rest tends to remain at rest unless an external force is applied to it.” “You memorized that just now?” Cory asked. “I took physics in high school, so some of this sounds familiar,” Bruce said. “It might’ve helped if I’d paid any attention in class.” “My physics teacher was terrible,” Cory said. “Everyone else slept through it.” “You must have been the best student there,” Bruce said. “He hated me.” Cory’s smile was guilty and wicked. “I kept correcting him in front of everybody.” Bruce laughed and kissed him. Cory’s tongue was soft and teasing. “Do you remember the third law?” Bruce’s hands slid admiringly over the sweet curves of Cory’s ass. “Two bodies,” he kissed Cory’s tempting mouth, “in motion,” mmm, “tend to stay in motion,” he rolled them over as Cory’s arms wound around his neck, “and when one body meets another body, the first product is sex,” slow kiss, “and the second product…” He gazed into wide, dark eyes. “Is love,” Cory whispered. After work the next day, Bruce went home for a thorough shower and a change of clothes, then went straight over to Cory’s apartment. Cory kept studying while Bruce hung around relaxing and reading and watching TV; then Bruce heated up yesterday’s leftovers. It was all very domestic. Bruce wondered what it would be like to twine his life through someone else’s like this. He’d never been interested in anything like that before; he’d been happy with his independence. What if he shared his life with Cory? What if they lived together? Paid bills together, did laundry together, bought groceries together? What if they were a couple, committed to each other for the future? They’d depend on each other. Count on each other. If he had a bad day at work, if Cory had a bad day at school… He’d want to go out and see his friends and hang out at clubs; Cory would be studying, doing homework, preparing for exams. If they had a fight, they’d be trapped in the same www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies apartment. How could Cory introduce his parents to the twenty-five-year-old mechanic he was living with? How could Bruce explain to his friends that he’d fallen in love with an eighteen-year-old physicist? The only commitment that Bruce had ever made was to his own bachelorhood. Now he was considering monogamy? What about all of the guys out there? Guys he met at work? Guys in clubs? Guys at the bank, at the grocery store, on the street? There were men everywhere, hot men, men he could fuck at will. Why should he give that up? Why did he have to give that up? He could fuck them and hang out with Cory. Cory hadn’t asked him for a commitment, and Cory had clearly refused his offer to live together. Having a boyfriend meant being responsible to someone. Having a boyfriend, living with him, it was a huge emotional, sexual, and financial commitment. His bed would be their bed. His bathroom would be their bathroom. Cory’s problems would be his problems. Cory’s happiness would be his happiness. Would that make Cory’s car, his car? The other guys might not understand dating an eighteen-year-old physicist, but they would understand dating an Aston Martin. He could say no to other men if Cory was in his life. Cory’s happiness already was his happiness. Cory’s problems already were his problems. Cory’s smile made him smile. Cory’s passion inspired him. Cory’s struggles wounded him. He wondered whose apartment was cheaper. With their combined assets, it wouldn’t really matter. His was bigger, which meant that Cory would have more space for privacy and quiet to study. He wondered if Cory would like his place. Tucked in bed together that night, after making love, they still couldn’t let each other go. Bruce kissed Cory’s neck while Cory pressed closer and moaned softly in his ear. Cory’s sweet noises were filled with aching pleasure and whispers of desire that shuddered through Bruce’s body, leaving behind echoes of heat to stir his blood. “You sound so good,” Bruce murmured, sucking lightly. “I love the way you touch me,” Cory said. Bruce opened his eyes at the unexpected pleasure of the compliment. “It’s like being manhandled.” Cory smiled, idly stroking Bruce’s hair. “I like it.” That sweet, happy smile brightened the room. “I like how direct you are. You’re very straightforward, and you never seem embarrassed. You have a lot of confidence, and I admire that. And you have a lot of persistence. If you didn’t, we wouldn't be together now.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies Cory’s kiss was slow and loving, but when he opened his eyes, he was concerned. “If you move in with me and it doesn’t work out, what are we going to do?” Bruce raised his head, meeting worried brown eyes. Now that Cory had been honest with him, he’d show Cory enough respect to answer honestly. “I’d have to move out,” he said quietly, and kissed Cory’s mouth. “If we keep things the way they are, we’d be happy with that,” Cory said. “I wouldn’t,” Bruce said. “I need complete access to you. I need you fully cemented in my life, or I’m going to lose my mind.” He took Cory’s hand in his, kissing Cory’s wrist, kissing Cory’s bracelet. “If I don’t move in with you, our only other option is for you to move in with me.” “Our only choice is to live together?” Cory asked. “Are you worried about getting hurt?” Bruce asked. “Are you worried about not being compatible? Are you worried about your parents?” “You never talk about your parents,” Cory said. It was a tidy subject change, but he seemed genuinely interested, so Bruce indulged him. “They live in Maine,” Bruce said. “My dad would love you.” Cory grinned. “He would?” “I know he would,” Bruce said. Cory gently shook his hand free of Bruce’s hold to stroke curious fingertips across Bruce’s eyebrows and down Bruce’s nose. “What about your mom?” “She’d say that you’re too young and too pretty, and that spells trouble.” Cory laughed. “What about your parents?” Bruce asked, maintaining eye contact. Cory swallowed, stroking Bruce’s jaw. “My parents are very wealthy. They have…a lot of money.” That, Bruce had guessed. “My mother wants me to be happy. She really does, and she tries her best. She got me all of this furniture and everything.” Bruce caressed the lean curve of Cory’s spine. “And your father?” Cory sighed. “Well…” He rolled onto his back, away from Bruce, and looked at the ceiling for a while. Bruce settled comfortably on his side, watching patiently. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies Cory turned his head to one side. “It’s hard to explain this without sounding like a whining victim. I’m not a victim, and he’s not a villain. We’re just people.” enemy.

“Okay,” Bruce said, automatically labeling Cory’s father a personal

Cory sighed again. “My biological father died when I was two. All of his money went to me and my mother. My inheritance, and the money she’s set aside for me, is being held in trust.” “For another three years,” Bruce remembered. “Right.” Cory hesitated. “My stepfather doesn’t like me. He loves my mother, and he loves his own kids. He just doesn’t like me. We never got along. My brothers and sisters are athletic and blond. They’re always captain of something or president of something or being crowned by someone. I was always the skinny black-haired kid reading boring books and talking about Einstein.” “You love them,” Bruce said. He could hear it in Cory’s voice. “You’re proud of them.” “I’m very proud of them,” Cory said, like it was an obvious fact. Bruce wondered if they were step-siblings, half-siblings, or both. Cory didn’t seem to be making any kind of distinction; they were just siblings, to him. Bruce kissed his forehead. “Dad wants to reserve his money for his own children,” Cory said. “It’s… Do you want details?” “Yes,” Bruce said. Absolutely. Cory sat up, so Bruce sat up with him. “Think of it like my biological father had a million dollars, my mother has a million, and my stepfather has a million. My biological father willed half of his million to me and half to my mother. Now I have half and my mother has one and a half.” Bruce nodded. Simple so far. “I’m not supposed to know all of this, but from what I’ve heard, since my mother already has her own money, she set aside her half from my biological father, and that’ll go to me in her will.” “So all of his money is going to you,” Bruce said. “Right. My mother has three kids, me and Jimmy and Ginny. She’s willing her own one million to the three of us equally.” “Okay,” Bruce said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies “Dad has five kids. Jimmy, Ginny, Charlie, Vicky, and Paul. He’s separating his one million into five parts.” “Right,” Bruce said. That made sense. “Dad… I’m not his kid. I’ve always been different, and I’ve always reminded him that someone was with Mom before he was. I’m not going to Harvard, like I was supposed to, like everyone in his family always has. I’m not going to be a doctor or a lawyer or a mogul.” “You’re a nuclear physicist,” Bruce said, in case Cory hadn’t caught the significance of that. “I’m a science geek,” Cory said. “I’m not even a computer geek. At least then he could groom me to take over Microsoft.” Bruce laughed. There was no other appropriate response. “He and I have a careful tightrope that we walk,” Cory said. “He loves my mom, and he treats her very well, and he keeps her happy, so I pretend to get along. I love her, and I treat her well, and I keep her happy, so he pretends to get along.” sharply.

“Seeing you go hungry would not make your mother happy,” Bruce said “That’s why I’m not telling her,” Cory said with a look just as sharp. Silenced, but displeased, Bruce said nothing.

“He’s paying my tuition,” Cory said, calm again. “He gave me money for the year. He didn’t have to do that.” “No, he didn’t,” Bruce said, suspicious. “If your mother had, she would have been more generous.” “He’s paying for everyone else’s education,” Cory said. “He’s always pretended to include me as one of his kids. He sent Paul and Charlie and Vicky to Harvard, he’ll send Jimmy and Ginny to Harvard, he wants it to look like he’s not making a distinction between me and them, so he’s paying for me to be here, too.” “Was he this stingy with them?” Bruce asked. Cory snorted. side?”

Bruce sighed. “You won’t ask your mother for a little money on the “I don’t want to upset her. She thinks that everything’s fine, and it is.” “He’s punishing you,” Bruce said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies “The more money they spend on me, the less goes to the other kids,” Cory said. “He resents me for that.” Three of the kids would get a fifth of a million. Two of the kids would get, hell, roughly a half million. Cory would get one and a third. And Bruce was willing to bet that they weren’t dealing with one million dollars per parent, either. “Which of your parents has the most money?” Bruce asked. Cory shrugged awkwardly. “My biological father.” Of course. And of course it would be a sore subject. “He’s punishing you,” Bruce said again. “I understand why,” Cory said. “So do I,” Bruce said, “but that doesn’t make it okay.” “I’ll be fine,” Cory said. “In three years, this won’t even be a problem.” “What about until then?” Bruce asked. “He loves her,” Cory said. “She’s so happy. You should see her, she adores him.” “She adores you,” Bruce said. Cory kissed him gently. “I’ll be fine.” Bruce kissed him back, rubbing his arm. “I can’t keep you in the style to which you’ve been accustomed-” Cory snickered. okay.”

Bruce pinched him. “-but I want to live with you. In my place, if that’s

“Your place?” Cory asked. “I’ve never been there. I don’t even know where it is,” he realized. He frowned. “And you think that we’re ready to live together?” “Your place is closer to school, but mine’s only five minutes farther away, and you drive anyway.” Cory smiled, amused. “Are you in this for me, for sex, or for my car?” “For you,” Bruce said, pushing him down to the mattress. Cory laughed, and Bruce kissed him. “We’ll move into my place,” Bruce decided. “Once you’ve signed the lease and you can’t back out, we’ll work out who’s paying for what. I’ve been picking up extra shifts, so I’ll have more money, and the more I work, the less I’ll interrupt your studying.” “What about your night life?” Cory asked. “You can go out as often as you want. I don’t want you to think that you have to stay at home with me. But what about bringing your friends home?” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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Two Bodies “I’ll check with you first,” Bruce said. “They don’t come over that often, anyway. We usually meet out somewhere.” Cory’s fingers caressed Bruce’s neck, eliciting a brief shiver. “What about your sex life?” “I have you,” Bruce said. Cory studied him. “Is that going to be enough?” It had been weeks since Bruce had first met Cory. In those weeks, he hadn’t touched another man, hadn’t even looked. And if he ever did look, would he want to touch? Would he ever need to touch anyone the way he needed to touch Cory? He had Cory at his side, in his home, in his bed. The way Cory looked, tasted, felt, moved… “Yes,” Bruce said. “You’re enough.” A slow, cherishing kiss. “You’re all there is.”


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Introduction to In This Land

My name is Rini. The whole thing is Anosalim Inanodat Kuladin A Rini, but it’s a lot easier just to say Rini. I live here, in Orina Anoris - - which just so happens to be the most ancient, most powerful, and most prosperous nation in all of the world - - and I’m an Anorian prince. Right now, we’re in the Dynasty of the Seven Siblings. That means that in each generation, the pharaoh has seven children, and those seven children grow up to run the country. The gods bless them with the wisdom and skills that they’ll need to fulfill their roles. It’s all about preordained destiny, and it’s all about my family. The youngest of the seven siblings always becomes the royal artist. That’s my brother Talin. His twin brother is Anosanim, who’s going to be the royal architect. They haven’t taken their positions yet, because they’re still only nineteen, but they work as hard as if they were already in charge. I keep telling them to relax and enjoy their last months of freedom, but they’re too busy painting and planning and sketching to listen to me. Talin’s rude and cynical; he always has a bad attitude. Anosanim is happy and friendly and enthusiastic about everything, but he’s always too dramatic. Because they’re so different, I really think that if they weren’t twins, Talin wouldn’t even like Anosanim, but they have this weird dynamic where they always put each other first. Talin’s always looking out for Anosanim, and Anosanim’s always gushing about Talin, like they don’t realize that they shouldn’t even get along. My brother Desin is the royal agriculturist. Basically, he’s a farmer - - and he looks like one, all big and muscular from working in the fields - - but everyone says that there’s much more to his role than that, like overseeing the country’s food resources, monitoring all of the crops and the animals and the www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land rivers, shipping and storing all of the food, importing and exporting, stuff like that. I still say: big ol’ farmer. The other two twins are Orinakin and Selorin. Orinakin was born first, so he’s the royal diplomat; he travels a lot, keeps the peace, makes sure that everything’s running smoothly between Orina Anoris and the rest of the world, that sort of thing. Selorin is the royal high judge, so he hears the biggest cases, interprets the laws, and says intelligent things. Talin and Anosanim are complete and total opposites, but Selorin and Orinakin are the same person in two bodies. The second-born child of the pharaoh is always the royal high priest. That’s Remin. All of my brothers are passionate people, in one way or another, but Remin’s more passionate than most people expect someone in his position to be. He used to spend all of his free time in the belams - - what you call harems - - and you didn’t want to get between him and any kind of food. Now he spends his free time in the temples, but you still don’t want to get too close to his plate. First-born is, of course, the pharaoh. His full name is Anosukinom Mutotanosa Situkabulanin Elanilanulanori Banotuda Kudorin A Rituliti. We call him Kudorin; everyone else addresses him as Anosukinom. He’s a pharaoh, he’s a man, he’s a god, he’s my big brother, he’s wealthy, he’s powerful, he’s perfect. You probably noticed that I kept talking about the seven royal siblings, and then I listed seven people without including myself. That’s what makes this generation special. There are eight of us. I’m the eighth brother, the youngest. I told you to call me Rini, but one of the other parts of my name, Kuladin, means “one who is more.” I’m more, I’m a blessing, a gift. A gift to my parents, a gift to Orina Anoris, a gift to the world. You’re welcome. The last pharaoh was my pharaoh mother, Anosadum. She stepped down from the throne almost four years ago when Kudorin turned twenty and took over. That’s what happens; as each person from the new generation comes of age, someone from the previous generation hands over the role. We’re in the middle of changing over right now, and in the new year, when Anosanim and Talin take their positions, the transition from one generation to the next will be complete. The pharaoh, while on the throne, can’t leave the country, so Anosadum is taking advantage of her new freedom and has been traveling all over the world with my king father and queen mother. 122 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land It’s traditional for our pharaohs to marry both a man and a woman. Kudorin already has a wife, Anikira. She’s our queen, and they’ve known each other for almost their whole lives. He doesn’t have a husband yet. One of Orinakin’s duties is to scour foreign countries looking for suitors and bringing them here so that Kudorin can meet them, but Kudorin keeps rejecting them. I’ve met his suitors, and he is being way too picky. Those guys are hot. Because the system is set up for seven siblings and I’m the eighth, my career and life weren’t laid out for me at birth. That means that while my brothers have to get up every morning and do their jobs and run the country and bear an incredible burden of responsibility, I get to lounge around the palace all day. I can go wherever I want, do whatever I want, and wear whatever I want. My main hobbies are having fun and having sex. My favorite pastime is to combine them and have fun sex. I visit the belams, of course, but I also partner with palace guests, my brothers’ assistants, servants, regular citizens, and athletes. A lot of athletes. I’ve heard that other cultures in other countries have strange attitudes about sex; they attach a bunch of guilt and shame to it. I don’t understand that at all. In Orina Anoris, we like sex. It’s natural, it’s instinctive, it feels terrific, and it doesn’t hurt anyone. Why sneak around and hide something that fantastic? I’ve never had sex right in the middle of a crowd in the throne room or anything, but that’s because of respect, not shame. Well, it’s also kind of because my brothers would be completely outraged and act all offended and indignant about it. As if they’re celibate. Okay, Remin is, but he has to be; the royal high priest can’t have sex outside of marriage, and Remin’s still single. All of the rest of my brothers visit the belams all of the time, and they have sex with other people, too. Especially Desin; he’s always looking for someone new to partner with. Talin always has a boyfriend, about two a year. Selorin always has a new boyfriend - - he changes them every month - and he goes through them even faster when Orinakin’s away. Even though Anosanim’s always fawning all over everyone, he never notices when guys are interested in him. They can tell him how much they care about him and undress right in front of him, and he’ll think that they’re just being friendly. Even I’m not that friendly! (Most of the time.) I don’t know why some of my brothers collect boyfriends. I could never do it. Commitment, to one person? There are so many different people out www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land there, I couldn’t possibly limit myself to just one. I can’t even keep the same hairstyle for too many days in a row. Since I’m a prince with a lot of freedom and a busy, fantastic sex life, you’re going to think that my life is perfect. And it is, almost. My only problem is that all seven of my brothers outrank me - - not only are they older, they run the country - - and they like to tell me what to do. Sometimes I even have to listen to them. I think that they’re jealous, because our parents love me the most. Anosadum had to have my brothers; she had me because she wanted me. Kudorin’s only been pharaoh for four years now, but he’s been ready for it since he was born. For as long as I can remember, he’s walked like he’s owned everything within sight, and he’s listened like every word’s important. (Trust me; a lot of words out of a lot of mouths aren’t.) All of my brothers work too hard; they put way too much thought and effort into it, for far too many hours. Anosanim and Talin haven’t even completed their apprenticeships yet, so I’d excuse their work habits as nervous overcompensation, except that the older guys are almost worse than they are, and, besides, Talin never gets nervous. Of all of my brothers, Desin and Anosanim are probably my best friends. Talin’s too rude; the others are all too old. Whenever I feel like going out to flirt with guys, Desin’s the one I invite along. Anosanim’s so dramatic that he usually pretends to be scandalized by whatever I want to do, but he always realizes that it’s going to be a lot of fun and goes along with it anyway. Since Desin’s employees work in the fields, and Anosanim’s construct buildings, I like to loiter around when they’re working and flirt with all of the hot, muscular guys. I just have to be careful, or Desin will make me help, and I’m not really into gardening. Talin and Selorin don’t want me to spend too much time hitting on their assistants and employees. Apparently, it “distracts them from their work.” It’s hard not to, though; the artists are all sexy and creative, and the lawyers are all sexy and intellectual, and both of those things turn me on. It’s no fun visiting Remin when he’s in the temples. Everyone he works with is a priest, and who wants to hit on a priest? A lot of important foreign leaders come to the palace to meet with Kudorin and Orinakin, so there’s a pretty steady stream of people to flirt with. Most of the kings and presidents and prime ministers and whatever are too old for me, but usually they have assistants or sons or something.


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In This Land Or daughters. Most of my brothers are only attracted to men, but I like women, too. Our belas are all male, though, because that’s something that we could all agree on. A bela is, I don’t know what you’d call it, a concubine or something. A bela’s someone who lives in a belam, or harem. Orinakin and Selorin and Desin and Anosanim and Talin and I share three belams; Remin used to before he became royal high priest. Kudorin has two, just for him and his wife, one male and one female. There are two more, one male and one female, for the official palace guests. Kudorin’s, of course, are sexier and more talented than anyone else’s, because he’s the pharaoh, but ours are, um, pretty special. Now that I’ve started talking about the belams, it’ll be easy for me to go on for the next several hours, rambling about sex. I’d better not, though. Now that I’m eighteen, I’m supposed to “comport myself with some semblance of decorum,” and it’s not “appropriate” for an Anorian prince to describe his intimate sex life to complete strangers. There’s much more to talk about, a whole lot more that I want to tell you. Orina Anoris is a pretty special place. There are thousands of stories to be told in this land...


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In This Land

“The pharaoh,” Bade said. “Of Orina Anoris,” Vade said. A few minutes passed in baffled silence. “The pharaoh,” Vade said. “Of Orina Anoris,” Bade said. A bug crawled across the granite step beneath their feet, taking its time in traveling behind Vade’s boots. In search of a reassuring point, Bade offered, “He’s very wealthy.” “And very powerful,” Vade said somewhat dubiously, not sounding comforted at all. “Immensely powerful,” Bade agreed. He wanted to consider that to be a good thing, a selling point, but in his gut, it made him uneasy. Nosupolis was small and rather poor, all things considered, while Orina Anoris was the oldest, wealthiest, most powerful nation in the world. Bade would only reach the throne if his older brother, Tiko, met with an unfortunate and sudden end, while Anosukinom, the pharaoh of Orina Anoris, was the most powerful man alive. “Especially if he really can raise the sun,” Vade said. “That can’t possibly be true.” Everyone knew that only a god could move the sun. “To them, it’s reality,” Vade argued. “Do you want to live in a country where all of the citizens believe that their pharaoh makes the sun rise and set? They believe that their pharaoh is a god, that their pharaoh’s siblings are children of gods, that-” “People here believe that stepping on three spiders before midnight is good luck,” Bade said. “All it’s ever given me is a mess to clean up.” “They think that he sets fires with his mind and breathes underwater,” Vade continued, ignoring his comments. “They say that when he cries, it rains.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “He’s powerful, wealthy, and beloved,” Bade said. He might as well defend the pharaoh now; he had to get used to the idea. Besides, Vade was only bringing up Orina Anoris’s eccentricities to be irritating; normally, they both found what they knew of that country to be fascinating, if mysterious. “I imagine that he’s intelligent and well-educated. His brother is charming and very handsome.” “Prince Orinakin?” Vade asked. “He has purple hair. Purple hair, Bade, he has purple hair. And purple eyes. Have you ever seen anyone with purple hair? Have you ever heard of anyone having purple hair?” No, but it was a captivating sight. “His aunt had purple hair,” Bade said. “And her uncle before her.” “And that doesn’t seem strange to you?” Bade asked. Of course it seemed strange. It seemed downright bizarre and somewhat creepy. The rich, silken, varied purples of the prince’s hair were intriguing, though. The previous diplomat, the prince’s aunt, had worn her hair in tightly braided coils pinned close to her head, but the new one, a young man near Bade’s age, wore his long and loose so that, caught on the wind, it shimmered in the sunlight and“You’ll have to go,” Vade said. “It’s an honor to be asked,” Bade said. He’d never been invited to anything nearly so important in his life. He’d barely left his own country. He didn’t spend much time away from the castle. And now, suddenly, to be whisked off to Orina Anoris? To meet the most powerful man alive? To be considered for marriage? Not that he’d ever be chosen - - he had no idea how to court a pharaoh - - but it was a tremendous honor. He did, though, harbor many reservations about the entire enterprise, chief among which was how to get there. “You don’t think that we’ll have to travel by balloon, do you?” “That’s how they go everywhere,” Vade said. “They’d be insulted if you refused.” Orina Anoris’s diplomats always were very careful to respect local customs. It would only be correct of him to respect theirs in return. “But it’s a balloon.” He’d watched the diplomat ascend and descend. Those balloons went up so terribly, terribly high, they couldn’t possibly be safe. Idly scratching his shin, Vade said, “I wonder how many accidents they’ve had.” With a shudder, Bade asked, “Would you like to go in my place?” “I’d like to visit Orina Anoris,” Vade admitted. “I’m curious about what it’s really like there. But they asked for you, not for me.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land The lack of animosity, the complete absence of bitterness in Vade’s tone, eased Bade’s guilt. “He only invited me because I’m older.” Six minutes and thirty-two seconds older, to be precise, but it had long been considered an important distinction. He and Vade looked so exactly alike, they’d often switched places and easily fooled their tutors and guards. He was sure that if Vade took his place this time as well, the deception would be simple. There was no real danger of either one of them making it through the elimination process and being chosen as the pharaoh’s husband, anyway, and Vade would enjoy the adventure. “He said that he invited you because of your ethics, humility, and generous nature,” Vade said. Uncomfortable with the praise, Bade pushed it aside with the wave of one hand. “He had to say something nice. I’m not a suitable candidate, and if they don’t know it now, they’ll figure it out soon enough. He should’ve invited Tiko.” “And leave you to rule the kingdom?” Vade asked, almost offensively amused by the thought. “Thrones have been abandoned before,” Bade reminded him. “You’re expected to leave behind country and family to sit at the pharaoh’s side, and someone does exactly that in every generation. Tiko would do it if he were called. I’d be a better king here than a pharaoh’s husband there, anyway.” “Tiko would never leave Nosupolis,” Vade argued mildly. “He was born to be our king.” Bade didn’t know what he, himself, had been born for. He deeply loved Nosupolis, but he’d never been given a role to fill. Tiko, destined to be king, had a place in the world. Bade was a prince, yearning to give to his country and its people but lacking any real power or position. Quizzing his tutors and shadowing his father had only resulted in irritated sighs. The important people who truly ran the country didn’t want a sheltered and shallow prince pestering them with clumsy attempts to help. “When is Prince Orinakin coming back for you?” Vade asked. “In two weeks,” Bade said, studying the worn toe of his boot. “I may bring as many trunks as I think I’ll need, but no people. It’s customary to come alone.” Vade was looking down at his own feet. “It’s also customary for the one who’s chosen not to come back, not for many years.” Taking a deep breath, Bade let it out. “Yes, he mentioned that.” Another period of silence. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land Bade had never been away from Nosupolis, or away from Vade, for more than three days. “He probably won’t choose you, anyway,” Vade said. “Anyone who tells people that he can move the sun is too interested in himself to notice great things about you. He’ll just look for who can bring him money and power.” “Yeah.” Bade didn’t look over, didn’t want to meet Vade’s eyes. “I’ll probably be put out on a balloon coming home as soon as I get there.” “Yeah,” Vade agreed, his voice so cool and calm that Bade knew he was a wreck inside. “We won’t even have time to enjoy your absence.” Anosalim Inanodat Kuladin A Rini was on his way to the temples when he saw a few young men loitering in an archway. He didn’t remember their names, but their athletic, muscular builds and blue-and-white uniforms gave them away as members of one of the soccer teams. Smiling, Rini slowed to an easy stroll, making eye contact. One of them gave him a sexy little wave. The second made the sign to the gods; the third winked. “Hello,” Rini said, casually veering in their direction. “Prince Rini,” they said, bowing. While Wave and Wink looked him up and down, the middle one turned a flustered red. “You must be on the Korigan team,” Rini said, standing too close to Red, smiling, licking his lips a little. “You’re playing Gonoset at the festival.” “Yes, we are,” Wave said, stepping closer to his left side. Wave seemed to be having trouble looking above Rini’s neck, and was absent-mindedly rubbing his own thigh; definitely an ass-grabber. “We’ve come to the palace to ask for your blessing,” Wink said, closing in on his right, dark eyes burning with sexual intent. “I’d love to give you everything that you’ve come for,” Rini said. “Gosonet’s a strong team, though,” he added, toying with his silver necklace, which happened to be the only thing he wore above the waist. Swallowing hard, Red stared at his deft fingers and naked chest. “We’re strong,” Wink said. “Very strong,” Wave added, licking his lips, eyeing Rini’s ass. “You do look fit,” Rini admitted, his other hand giving Red’s muscular arm a few quick squeezes. Nice. Leaving his hand there, stroking slowly, he turned his gaze on Wink. “Do you think that you’re up to the challenge?” A few minutes later, Rini was plastered to Red’s hard, muscular body, stealing fervent kisses and moaning happily. Wave was behind him, squeezing 129 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land his ass, kissing the back of his neck, rocking against him, thickening erection snug against him through his tight pants. Rini’s dick hardened by the second, his undulating body caught between their firm, athletic physiques, Wink’s hands snaking around and darting in to tease his nipples and stroke his skin. As he broke away from Red to kiss Wink, his hands slid beneath the back of Red’s shorts, gripping the muscular globes of Red’s ass to“Ahem.” Caught between three bodies, tucked between an archway and a statue, Rini cursed under his breath and looked over his shoulder - - and Wave’s - - at Julil. “Is this important?” Rini totally outranked Julil, but Julil himself never seemed to recognize that, like being the pharaoh’s assistant and cousin was somehow better than being the pharaoh’s brother, the previous pharaoh’s son, a prince, and, hey, a child of the gods. “The pharaoh wishes me to inform you and your brothers of some news,” Julil said. Red’s hard-on no longer pressed against Rini’s stomach as insistently, which was just irritating. Rini gave Julil a dark and impatient look, the kind that his brother Talin was always giving him. “What news?” Julil grinned at him. “Prince Orinakin’s coming home.” “Orinakin?” Taking his hands off of Red’s ass, Rini turned, easing Wink and Wave aside to devote all of his interest to Julil. He hadn’t seen Orinakin in months! “He’s coming? When?” “Five days,” Julil said. “He’s bringing home another round of suitors for Anosukinom. Once he picks up the last one in Nosupolis, he’ll come here.” “Five days!” He turned back to the soccer players. “Do you want to meet me in my room tonight?” Red looked a little surprised, casting a nervous glance at Julil, but Wink and Wave said, together, firmly, “Yes.” “Great.” He kissed them with a quick, “See you then.” He didn’t want to neglect the athletes, not with the tournament so close, but Orinakin was coming home! Without wasting any more time, Rini took off, running across the palace to the family’s wing. It was almost time for dinner, and his brothers would be home from work. Rushing through an archway and around a corner, he skidded on his flimsy new sandals and collided with Desin. Cursing - - the guy was so muscular he was solid as a boulder - - Rini hopped on one foot, then the other, pulling off his sandals, as he said, “Orinakin’s coming home in five days! Julil just told me.” “Orinakin?” Desin asked, grinning. “It’s about time. He’s been gone for months.” 130 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land “I know!” Rini exclaimed. “I was never going to forgive him if he missed the festival!” “He has to be home by the fourteenth, anyway,” Desin said. “Yes, but I want him home for my festival,” Rini insisted.” Do you know where Selorin is?” “He was talking to Talin.” “Great.” Carrying his sandals, Rini hurried to Talin’s room. Talin wasn’t there, but Anosanim was. Stuff like that was what irritated Rini about his brothers; the twins were always acting like they were interchangeable. Whenever he was looking for Talin, he ran into Anosanim; whenever he needed to find Anosanim, he stumbled across Talin. Orinakin and Selorin were even worse, always talking over each other and spending as much time together as possible. At least Anosanim and Talin were nothing alike; Orinakin and Selorin acted like they were the same person most of the time. Well, if anyone would know where Talin was, it was Anosanim. “Where’s Talin?” “In Remin’s room. Which one do you like better?” Anosanim asked, holding out two completely identical red ribbons. “It doesn’t matter,” Rini said. “Talin’s never going to let you put that in his hair.” He didn’t have time to waste on Anosanim’s frills today; he wanted to be the first to break the news to Selorin. “Did you know that Orinakin’s coming home?” “Oh, Extra!” Anosanim hugged him, happy and excited. “I can’t wait to see him! How soon?” “Five days. He’s bringing a bunch of new boyfriends for Kudorin.” “New suitors!” Anosanim exclaimed, walking with him to Remin’s rooms. “He must have so many new stories to tell! I hope that he hasn’t been too homesick. We’ve missed him so much! Selorin’s practically a wreck!” Calling Selorin a wreck was kind of an exaggeration - - Anosanim was the one who’d cried like a baby when Orinakin had left - - but Rini knew what he meant. “Hey,” he said, interrupting whatever Talin and Remin had been talking about. “Have you heard?” “Heard what?” Talin asked. “Orinakin’s coming home!” Anosanim exclaimed. “Oh, Talin, I can’t wait to see him again. And he’s bringing suitors for Kudorin!” “He’ll be here in five days,” Rini said. “Praise the gods,” Remin said, reflexively touching his fingertips to his chest, his lips, his forehead, in the sign to the gods. “Just in time for Tilidohatuk. Have you told Selorin?” 131 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land “I’m trying to,” Rini said. “Do you know where he is?” “He’s in the belam,” Talin said. Right, like that was a lot of help. “Which one?” “Suitors from where?” Remin asked. “I don’t know, somewhere,” Rini said. “Nosupolis.” “The lesis belam,” Talin said. “The sulatim belam,” Remin said. “He told me that he was going to the lesis belam,” Talin said. “I saw him walking into the sulatim belam,” Remin said. If Selorin had just gone into a belam, he was undoubtedly busy, but news this good couldn’t wait. Rini wanted to tell him right away, to make him happy, to make him smile. They’d all missed Orinakin, had all strongly felt the difference when he was gone, but Selorin had missed him most of all. Handing Anosanim his sandals, Rini went to check the belams. There were three of them in the family’s wing, and he tried the second one first. Opening the white door and stepping inside, he glanced around. “Is Selorin in here?” “We haven’t seen him all day,” Tepeni said, rolling onto his back. “We haven’t seen you all day, either,” Kelano murmured, approaching with a smile. Rini grinned, enjoying the way Kelano’s gaze rolled appreciatively over his body, checking out Kelano’s attributes in return. “Maybe I’ll come back after dinner.” “Why leave for dinner?” Kelano murmured, running his hand down Rini’s stomach and, oh, yeah, that felt good. “You can eat right here.” “I have to,” Rini paused for a few burning kisses, his body going up in flames as Kelano’s experienced fingers unfastened his pants and slipped inside, “find Selorin.” His own fingers slid through Kelano’s thick, black hair as he moaned softly. “Prince Selorin,” Kelano murmured, licking that spot on his neck that always made his toes curl, “will return here, sooner or later.” A soft chuckle as he nuzzled behind Rini’s ear, his palm warmly cupping Rini’s balls. “Everyone always does.” “You can wait for him here,” Tepeni offered, as Kelano licked sweetly, wetly, hotly, up and down Rini’s neck. “We’ll help you to pass the time.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land Groaning, throbbing in Kelano’s knowing hand, Rini panted out, “I’m sure that you will.” Oh, this was too good to turn down. “I’ll be back in ten seconds,” he promised, weakly prying at Kelano’s fingers, trying to extricate himself. If he didn’t tell Selorin right away, someone else would get there first, and he liked breaking news too much to let that happen. “Five seconds,” he vowed, tucking himself back into his pants. “Go ahead and start without me. I’ll be right back.” Kelano kissed him, licking at him gently. “We’ll be waiting,” he whispered, looking at Rini with luscious dark eyes. “Two seconds,” Rini said, and ran out, rushing down the hallway and into the sulatim belam. “Selorin? Everyone pointed to the corner. “Selorin,” Rini said, picking his way through the assorted mats, pillows, and almost-naked bodies. A thin curtain had been pulled around one of the beds for a bit of privacy; Rini stopped by the curtain, and when Panori, lounging on the next bed, ran a hand up his thigh, Rini ran his fingers through Panori’s hair. “Selorin,” he said distinctly, impatiently. “Extra,” Selorin said, sounding tired but patient, “is this important?” “Yes.” Snatching the curtain aside, Rini opened his mouth to impart the news, then grinned. “Hi, Jekari.” Jekari smiled at him, looking very comfortable on his back under Selorin’s naked body. “Prince Rini.” Lifting his head from Jekari’s shoulder, while Jekari caressed his chest and pressed loving, attentive kisses to his jaw, Selorin gave Rini a deliberately patient look. “Is the palace under siege?” “Of course not.” He grinned. “Orinakin’s coming home.” “He is?” Selorin and about ten other guys asked. Jekari started laughing. “In five days,” Rini said, loving the light that filled Selorin’s blue eyes. “He’s bringing a bunch of suitors for Kudorin. Once they pick up the guy from Nosupolis, he’ll come straight home.” “Five days,” Selorin repeated, like that was wonderfully close but not nearly soon enough. “Kudorin might know more,” Rini said. “I came to you as soon as Julil told me.” Now that he’d made Selorin light up, he could go back to Kelano. “I’ll let you two get back to whatever you were doing.” He winked at Jekari, who blew him a kiss, and let the curtain fall back into place. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” Panori asked, slipping quick fingers into the waistband of his pants. 133 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land “To have sex,” he said, letting his gaze drift down Panori’s perfect, slender, muscular body. “But you can do that here,” Panori reminded him with a smile, tugging him closer. Rini grinned. “Meet me in my room. There’s someone I want you to get to know better.” Orinakin couldn’t wait to get home. He did enjoy his work, and he couldn’t imagine undertaking a different occupation, but he missed home with a dreadful ache. He’d only been the royal diplomat just shy of two years now, and his predecessor, his aunt Riturihi, had assured him that he’d grow accustomed to long weeks and months of travel. The travel in and of itself didn’t bother him; he was at ease in each country, comfortable with the different foods and languages, interested in the variety of cultures and the variety of people. He didn’t mind long hours in the balloons, either, going from one country to the next. But he missed home. He missed Orina Anoris and everything about it. The people, the palace, the language, the river. He missed his family, especially his brothers, especially Selorin. He constantly found himself turning to Selorin, only to find the seat beside him empty, or occupied by someone else; he was used to having Selorin’s familiar, constant presence at his side, and didn’t know what to do with himself when Selorin wasn’t there. He talked to his assistants, and he wrote letters home, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing could replace his brothers. He missed Anosanim’s enthusiasm and Talin’s dry sarcasm and Desin’s comfortable, casual, normalcy. He missed Remin’s even calm and Extra’s energy and Kudorin, he missed everything about Kudorin. He’d found five suitors for Kudorin on this last trip. It was his responsibility, as the royal diplomat, to find the pharaoh a spouse of the same sex from a foreign land. Kudorin already had an Anorian wife, Anikira. Kudorin had been on the throne now for almost four years, and Orinakin had been on the hunt for two; so far, Kudorin hadn’t been satisfied with anyone Orinakin had offered him. Orinakin had consulted with his aunt Riturihi, who had found his mother’s wife, and had prayed to the gods for guidance. This set of five suitors had turned out to be fairly diverse, but Kudorin was fairly diverse, himself. There was T’rin, the first-born son of Y’nalin, chief of the Kela. Tall, muscular, and tattooed with his own accomplishments, T’rin had a direct, predatory gaze. He spoke in fairly short, concise sentences, and stood and walked with a great sense of inborn pride, his shaved skull gleaming. Like all Kelan men, he wore only a vest, loincloth, and low boots. His only bit of luggage was a small sack that seemed to contain more of the same. Dillane Naelt was the Mannillean ambassador. Very knowledgeable in international matters and interested in foreign cultures, Dillane was one of the www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land friendliest people Orinakin had ever met. He tended to be rather chatty, but he also liked to listen and to learn, and had already befriended everyone in Orinakin’s entourage only a few hours into the journey. He wore layers of colorful robes and had brought along several trunks full of belongings. Since whoever married the pharaoh didn’t leave Orina Anoris until the next pharaoh took the throne, and pharaohs tended to have at minimum a thirty-year reign, if Kudorin chose Dillane, he’d have only what he brought with him or had sent to him, and Dillane was not a man who would be caught without his accustomed finery. Commander Dranzhicthin Whzurchitz of the Grintzadiwtchian army was a tall, imposing man. His short, clipped brown hair was turning to gray at the temples, and his gaze was, at times, cutting and severe. He wore his dark green uniform and had packed lightly. He and T’rin seemed to have a mutual if tacit respect for each other; he had little interest in the other suitors. Dranz was a man who approached new tasks as if they were missions, and his current mission was to marry Kudorin. The other suitors were merely competitors to him. Aiae was the royal painter of Ilaeia under King Ouia. Having been born a country peasant, he didn’t know Anorian, which was a part of every proper formal education; as a result, he could speak only with Orinakin and with Dillane, who had a basic understanding of Ilaeian. He was uncommonly handsome, his glossy black hair always tied back neatly, his cheeks rosy, his gestures almost pretty. Famous for his remarkable landscapes, he spent many of his hours in the balloon gazing down at the land passing below or sketching the horizon. The fifth and final suitor was Prince Bade of Nosupolis. King Mindo’s second son, he was not heir to the throne. He had brought fewer trunks than either Dillane or Aiae, which immediately told Orinakin that he didn’t expect to be chosen. Bade was a prince, but Nosupolis was a poor and cold country, so he dressed in warm pants and sturdy boots. His short hair was both blond and curly, neither of which was common in Orina Anoris, where most people had straight hair of brown or black. His eyes were a glittering dark blue that reminded Orinakin of Selorin. For a prince, he was remarkably unpretentious, making no distinction between his rank and that of the other suitors; he possessed a natural curiosity and asked the other suitors about their countries and their cultures. He didn’t ask Orinakin many questions, although he did spend a fair amount of time glancing in Orinakin’s direction. Whenever Orinakin approached, he made polite and pleasant conversation but seemed relieved when Orinakin turned away again. He was nervous. He wouldn’t get past that anxiety until they reached Orina Anoris and saw for himself that he had nothing to fear. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land Bade also seemed to have some trepidation about the balloons. Nosupolins did not journey by air, and Bade had never ascended before; he had grown very pale at first, and kept both hands on the side of the basket. Now, however, he seemed to have grown accustomed to the movement, although Orinakin predicted that his anxiety would return when it was time to descend. The balloons were, of course, perfectly safe. Anorians had traveled by balloon for hundreds of years, and other countries had adopted the habit. Orina Anoris still sent out the largest baskets, and their balloons went higher and faster than others. Each basket was inscribed with a prayer to Etanoda, the god of air and flight, and the priests blessed each stage of the journey. Most of Orinakin’s trips were made with one large balloon, but he had brought along a second this time, keeping one for himself and the suitors, and using the other for the rest of his entourage. He wanted the suitors to have the space that befitted their station, and the chance to grow comfortable around each other. Orinakin’s entourage was fairly simple. Three assistants in purple, three priests in white and gold (one priest of Etanoda, the god of air and flight; one priest of Okanoti, the god of safety and travel; one priest of Setanoto, the god of peace and diplomacy), and five servants in warm shades of brown, light layered over dark. He had a few more servants along this time, to tend to the suitors. Aiae had yet to grow accustomed to being waited on, and watched the servants nervously, holding still until they were finished. Dranz preferred to do things for himself and often dismissed his attendants, shooing them away and tending to his own needs. T’rin was used to people doing such things as bringing him food, because a Kelan chieftain’s son would never prepare his own meals, but he certainly didn’t require anyone to help him dress, and in two minutes of negotiation on his first day of the journey, he told the servants how they could help him and when to leave him alone. Dillane took having servants for granted, but he also chatted with them as they worked, pleasantly discussing his own experiences and asking about theirs. Bade seemed used to being waited on but also was surprisingly capable of taking care of himself. Apparently, like Orinakin, he’d grown up with servants dressing and grooming him, but had learned how to do those things for himself simply for the convenience of it, and preferred it that way. Orinakin made a note that when they reached the palace, Bade wouldn’t require personal attendants. He’d never made that adjustment for a prince before. He wondered how many ways Bade would find to surprise him. After two days in the balloon, Bade was dreaming about walking on stable ground, feeling grass between his toes, and running across hard-packed dirt. He missed the ground. He missed walking on something that didn’t move. He was tired of trying to gauge the distance between the basket and the ground to see if it was widening or narrowing, to figure out if they were drifting too high or beginning to descend at a time that they shouldn’t. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land What were they going to do if the balloon failed or the basket fell? Jump out? That wouldn’t exactly help. He asked Dillane, who simply laughed and told him that a basket from Orina Anoris that held Prince Orinakin would never, ever fall. Being in that basket with Orinakin, according to Dillane, was even safer than sleeping in his bed at home. Maybe the gods had taken special interest in Orinakin. That might explain the purple hair. And purple eyes. Vividly purple, lighter violet around the edges darkening to a deep plum color. His hair was at least five kinds of purple, different shades all blending together. Bade knew that in some cultures, people dyed their hair to change its color, and if any country had that kind of ability, Orina Anoris would, so he suspected that Orinakin’s hair wasn’t natural. After all, no one’s hair was actually purple. Although his eyebrows were purple, and so were his long, thick lashes, light as lilac at the tips. Even the hair on his forearms looked kind of purple, although his long sleeves tended to cover it, so Bade couldn’t be sure. Everyone in Orinakin’s entourage was Anorian, and they had regular brown hair and brown eyes like normal people, which was comforting. Still, Bade wondered about Orinakin. He wondered about a lot of things, and he had dozens and dozens of questions, but he didn’t know how to ask. He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know what would be insulting. Orinakin seemed like a kind and friendly person, but Bade couldn’t risk offending an Anorian prince. Nosupolis was considered insignificant, so much so that all more powerful countries overlooked it and other small countries dismissed it. Bade’s father had given up on trying to get other nations’ attention and was simply working on conditions within his own borders with the country’s own tools, but Tiko had visions for the future that depended heavily on rejoining the international scene. This trip was Bade’s chance to make a favorable impression on the pharaoh of Orina Anoris, whose ear was too distant even for Bade’s father, the king. Bade knew that he should take advantage of this incredible, unlooked-for opportunity and ingratiate himself with the Anorian royalty, beginning with his most immediate companion, Prince Orinakin. But he was so aware of how important this chance was, he was too intimidated. He wasn’t sure how to begin. He didn’t even know why he’d been selected for this trip in the first place. Simply because he was a prince? Orinakin had said very nice things about him, but wasn’t that merely pleasant flattery? The other suitors had fine accomplishments. Dillane was well-educated and an experienced ambassador who was used to moving in powerful circles; he would be an asset to anyone. Aiae was not only a famous painter - - according to Dillane, he was the most celebrated artist outside of Orina Anoris - - but he was extremely handsome, with smoothly chiseled features and wide, darkly lashed eyes. Dranz was a hero credited with winning an entire war for his 137 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land country. T’rin was set to be a Kelan chief and had his achievements tattooed across his muscular, lightly scarred body. Bade couldn’t read them, but they certainly looked impressive. In comparison with all of that, Bade had nothing to offer but his title. He didn’t even have money, not that the pharaoh needed it. The closer they drew to Orina Anoris, the more Bade realized that his one great opportunity was slipping from his grasp. This was his chance to do something for his country, to contribute something of value. He’d been waiting for this all of his life; he just hadn’t expected it to be this big. He had to make a good impression on the pharaoh. On everyone that he met, on all of the princes and advisors and priests. He had to win the pharaoh’s heart, or at least the pharaoh’s hand in marriage. If he became the pharaoh’s husband, became King of Orina Anoris, it could be the best thing that had happened to Nosupolis in hundreds of years. It would bring prestige to his country, would attract the attention of not only the pharaoh but all leaders. It would give Tiko just the right edge to make great things happen. He trusted his brother, and Tiko was counting on him. His entire country was counting on him. Before he got there, he had to be prepared. He and Vade had, before he’d left, sat down together and gone over everything that they remembered from their lessons, but he’d already guessed that his information was woefully lacking. Taking a deep breath, he decided to speak with Prince Orinakin. Questioning Dillane would be productive, but if he wanted to convince the pharaoh to marry him, he was going to have to convince the pharaoh’s brothers that it would be a good idea. Avoiding Orinakin wouldn’t get him anywhere. He waited until the others had gone to sleep, until Orinakin sat up alone on one of the couches, writing by flickering lamplight. Drawing his thick, long coat closer around himself in the cool air, Bade approached. Looking up, Orinakin smiled. “Your Highness.” “Your Highness,” Bade said, returning the smile. “Do you mind the intrusion?” “Not at all,” Orinakin said, setting aside his pen. “Please, have a seat.” Sitting beside him, Bade privately admired the way his hair rippled in the breeze. Nosupolin men hadn’t worn their hair long in recent centuries, confining such styles to women, but Bade like the way it looked on Orinakin, whose hair was thick and healthy. It probably felt silky. “We shall reach Orina Anoris tomorrow afternoon,” Orinakin said. “You must be looking forward to going home,” Bade said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “I’m very eager to get there,” Orinakin admitted. “I’ve never been away for five months in a row before.” “Five months?” Bade asked. On the Anorian calendar, that would be, he thought, one hundred forty days. He couldn’t imagine being away for that long. “Your family must miss you.” “I miss them, as well,” Orinakin said, and for once, his warm smile held a hint of sadness. Bade thought of his own family, of Vade, and wondered how Orinakin could stand it. “I suppose that comes with your position.” “And it shall come with yours,” Orinakin said softly, “should you marry the pharaoh.” Despite his inner pang, Bade lifted his chin, making himself smile. He wouldn’t admit to any insecurity; he couldn’t let them think that he wasn’t up to the challenge. His homesickness wouldn’t get in the way; he wouldn’t let it. “It would be an honor to wed Anosukinom.” “Yes, it would,” Orinakin agreed with what looked like an amused smile. Was Orinakin laughing at him? “He’s very special.” “I’ve never before had the honor of meeting him,” Bade said, seeing his chance to work in a few of his questions. “Is there anything in particular that I should know?” “About Anosukinom?” Orinakin asked. “I find that it is best to let people meet him for themselves before I explain too much about him. But I would be happy to answer any specific questions about Orina Anoris.” Bade had plenty of those. “Do many Anorians have purple hair? Orinakin burst into surprised laughter. Quickly composing himself and tucking his hair behind his ears, he said, “No, there are only two of us, my aunt and I.” “Then most Anorians have dark hair,” Bade said. “Brown and black.” “Yes,” Orinakin said. “All native Anorians, except the pharaoh and the pharaoh’s children, have brown and black hair.” Bade wanted to ask if the purple was natural, but decided against it. Too likely to offend. “Although,” Orinakin said, as if amused again, “my youngest brother does have some black in his hair.” Shaking his head, he said, “I’d better start at the beginning, or I’ll confuse us both. How much of our history are you familiar with?” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “We studied the Dynasty of the True Rule, the Dynasty of the Scepter, and the Dynasty of the Twins,” Bade said. “You are now in the Dynasty of the Seven Siblings?” “And have been for six thousand years,” Orinakin said. “The details become more complicated, but the premise of it is simple. In each reign, there are seven siblings. Each of the seven is born with a divine purpose and an inherent position in our government. We each have a unique hair and eye color. A mark on the back of each sibling’s hand marks his or her number in birth order.” When Orinakin raised his hand in the lamplight, Bade could make out the Anorian three. He’d seen it there before, of course, but he’d assumed that it was a tattoo. “You were born with that?” It was purple. “I am Anosamim, child of the gods, third-born,” Orinakin said. “Anosukinom is Anosarim, child of the gods, first-born, and therefore is the pharaoh. His full name is Anosukinom Mutotanosa Situkabulanin Elanilanulanori Banotuda Kudorin A Rituliti. Second is Anosatim Inanodat Anoremin A Hiti, the royal high priest. His hair and eyes are golden.” “Blond?” Bade asked. “No, not like yours,” Orinakin said. “Not as light. Yours reminds me of sunlight. His is more like gold itself, more…metallic.” “And he has a two on his hand,” Bade said. “Yes,” Orinakin said. “My twin brother, Anosakim Inanodat Selorin A Diki, is the royal judge. His hair and eyes are blue.” “You have a twin?” Bade couldn’t believe it. “I had no idea.” “Oh, yes,” Orinakin said, with a smile apparently just at the thought. “He and I are very close. Seeing you and Vade together made me miss him very much. The two of you have a strong bond.” “He’s my closest friend,” Bade admitted. Frowning, he asked, “Your twin has blue hair? Then you aren’t identical?” “We are, in every other way,” Orinakin said. “Our hair color is unmistakable, but our faces are so alike, we don’t need mirrors.” Bade smiled; he knew what that was like. “The fifth sibling of our generation is Anosabim Inanodat Ebutadesin A Rituriti,” Orinakin said. “The royal agriculturist. His hair and eyes are green.” “That’s appropriate,” Bade said. Green hair? Blue hair? “You have a very colorful family.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “In more ways than one,” Orinakin said, laughing. “Then there’s another set of twins. Anosanim Inanodat Hanibulatin A Ritusiri shall be the royal engineer, and his hair and eyes are orange. Anosadim Inanodat Nisutalin A Lini shall be the royal artist, and his hair and eyes are red.” That made a second set of twins. “What if they were born out of order?” Bade asked. “What if your twin had been born before you?” “Then he would have purple hair and a three on the back of his hand, and I’d be the royal judge,” Orinakin said. “Throughout the generations, there have been many sets of twins among the seven siblings. We are always born in correct order. We have a divine purpose chosen for us by the gods.” Bade couldn’t begin to form a reply to that, so he focused on something that he’d noticed earlier. He considered himself fluent in Anorian; the siblings’ names seemed to be pieces of words he knew. “Your names are very musical. What do they mean?” “They are ancient Anorian. Do you want me to go through all of them?” Orinakin asked. “What about your name, specifically?” Bade asked. “Anosamim Inanodat Orinakin A Nimi,” Orinakin said. “Anosamim is ‘child of the gods, third-born.’ Inanodat is ‘brother of the god among us.’ Orinakin is ‘one who is the face of the land.’ A Nimi is ‘the sixty-third,’ because I’m the sixty-third male diplomat in the Dynasty of the Seven Siblings.” “Brother of the god among us,” Bade repeated. “Your people consider the pharaoh to be a god.” He’d known that, but it was an odd thing to have confirmed. He still wasn’t sure that he liked the idea of treating a man like a god. “Anosukinom is a god,” Orinakin said quietly. Bade nodded and changed the subject. “Your generation has eight siblings, doesn’t it?” “Ah, yes. It certainly does.” Orinakin smiled now, fondly. “Anosalim Inanodat Kuladin A Rini. His name, as he’s eager to point out, means child of the gods, eighth-born, brother of the god among us, one who is more, the sixteenth.” “One who is more?” Bade asked. “Does he have a destined occupation?” “No,” Orinakin said. “Prince Rini is a gift to our parents, according to them, and a blessing to the world, according to him. It is traditional, after years of apprenticeship, to come of age at twenty and step into an occupation. He’s still eighteen, so he has time to decide, but he doesn’t have a god-given position www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land in our government. He does have an eight on the back of his hand, and his hair is black and white. His eyes are silver.” male?”

“Black and white?” Bade asked. Both? “He’s only the sixteenth eighth

“He is only the sixteenth eighth sibling in the dynasty,” Orinakin said. “In six thousand years, we have had only sixteen eighth siblings and three ninth siblings. It is very rare for the pharaoh to have more than seven children.” “Then Prince Rini must be very special,” Bade said. “Only one eighth sibling every three hundred seventy-five years?” that?”

Orinakin’s eyes widened in pleased surprise. “Did you just calculate “Yes,” Bade said.

“That’s fantastic,” Orinakin said. “Selorin and I are terrible at math. We’re so bad at it, our tutors thought that we were faking it, because they’d never imagined that any of the royal siblings could ever be that stupid.” Bade laughed. “Arithmetic’s always been easy for me and Vade,” he said. “We raced right through our lessons. Our history and language classes were harder, but math is mostly calculations, and those are simple.” “Simple?” Orinakin repeated. “Five times seven plus two minus eight times twenty-one divided by three is not simple, it’s impossible.” Bade grinned. “It’s two hundred three.” Orinakin’s purple eyes narrowed. “You’re making that up.” “Do it backwards,” Bade said. “Two hundred three, times three, divided by twenty-one, plus eight, minus two, divided by seven, is five.” “Is that what I said?” Orinakin asked, at a loss. Laughing, Bade said, “Yes.” Fascinated, Orinakin asked, “How did you do that?” “It’s a series of simple calculations,” Bade said. “But math isn’t simple,” Orinakin protested. “I’m going to make you do this in front of Selorin. He’d never believe me.” “Are your other brothers good at math?” Bade asked. “Ebutadesin, Anosanim, and Nisutalin are,” Orinakin said. “The three younger ones,” he clarified. “But they need math more for their work, so I suspect that the gods had something to do with that. When we come of age, and go through the ceremonies to bring us fully into our destiny, the gods bless us with the experience and wisdom of those who came before us, and the skills www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land necessary to perform our duties. I spent years studying to prepare myself for this life, learning all about languages, geography, history, cultures, everything that I might need. But when I became, officially, the royal diplomat, and Riturihi passed on her knowledge to me, and the gods blessed me, suddenly I could speak all languages fluently, I had a much greater understanding of geography and distances - - there’s information in my mind that baffles and amazes me. And I’m much better at understanding people than I used to be. I sense their moods, their needs, their interests.” “That must come in handy when you’re dealing with temperamental rulers,” Bade said, not sure how much of that he believed. “You’re skeptical,” Orinakin said. “Your gods seem to work much more directly and obviously in your life than I’m used to,” Bade said. “They must be very…powerful,” he added, for lack of a better word. “The gods are very strong,” Orinakin said. “They actively bless us every day, with health, with prosperity, with everything that we need.” Orina Anoris had lasted through wars, plagues, droughts, earthquakes, and famines. Disaster after disaster had rocked the ancient worlds, had arisen even more recently, and Orina Anoris had never fallen. Bade couldn’t help but wonder about their gods. “Orina Anoris is,” Orinakin said, “by far, the oldest nation there ever was. We have survived when others have not.” Was Orinakin reading his mind? Was this part of his “sense their moods, their needs, their interests” trick? “Your skepticism is all over your face,” Orinakin said with a small smile. “Talk to me. Ask me what you want to know.” “Is your hair truly purple?” Bade asked. “How can you call a man a god? What makes your gods more powerful than anyone else’s? What makes Orina Anoris so ancient and powerful and different? What can I do to win the pharaoh’s heart? Why am I here?” Laughing, Orinakin said, “Now we get down to it. Yes, my hair truly is purple. I don’t know how to prove it to you. You think that I dye it?” “It’s possible,” Bade said carefully, surprised at Orinakin’s continued good nature. “Yes, it is possible,” Orinakin said. He frowned, as if honestly trying to figure out a way to prove himself. “Anorians aren’t very hairy people, and I don’t grow facial hair,” he mused. “If I-” “You don’t grow facial hair?” Bade asked. Wasn’t Orinakin twenty-one? www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “We’re not very hairy by nature,” Orinakin said. “My brothers and I, my mother and our aunts and uncles, we can, if we choose, exert control over the growth of our hair and nails. If we don’t want to have facial hair, it’s easier to decide not to grow it at all than bother with shaving every morning.” “You can control whether or not your hair grows?” Bade asked. This, he couldn’t accept. “A test,” Orinakin said, pleased. “We’ll cut off my hair and you can see if it’s grown in the morning.” Raising his hands, he swiftly began to braid his hair. “No, you don’t have to do that,” Bade said. This was bizarre. “Please, don’t cut your hair.” “It’s no bother to me,” Orinakin said. “It’ll grow right back.” His hair in a long, single braid down his back, he asked, “Do you happen to have a knife?” “You have nothing to prove to me,” Bade insisted. “You don’t believe me.” “You say such crazy things, people must fail to believe you a large percentage of the time,” Bade said. “This one instance of it can’t be much more of a problem.” Orinakin laughed so hard, Bade worried that he’d waken the others. “I’m going to enjoy speaking with you.” “Because I insult you?” Bade asked, baffled. “Because you’re honest,” Orinakin said, smiling. “You say things and ask questions that other people are too polite or too shy or too slick to attempt. You’ve forgotten to impress me and are simply being yourself and saying what’s on your mind, and I miss that. My family does that with me, my brothers do it even when I wish that they wouldn’t, but other people don’t.” “You’re an Anorian prince,” Bade said. “Everyone has to be on his best behavior with you. Your brother rules the world.” “He doesn’t rule the world,” Orinakin said. “He simply influences it. Your second question was, how can I call a man a god? Because he is both man and god. Not half-man, half-god, but completely, fully a man and completely, fully a god. Anosukinom is all men and all gods.” “That,” Bade said, “is impossible. It also doesn’t make sense.” “Gods don’t make sense,” Orinakin said. “Nothing has to make sense to be true. Anosukinom means ‘living god among us.’” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “Our tutors made us memorize his name,” Bade said. “Vade could manage the entire thing. I always got lost somewhere in the middle and had to put ice on my tongue.” Laughing, Orinakin said, “Anosukinom Mutotanosa Situkabulanin Elanilanulanori Banotuda Kudorin A Rituliti.” “That’s just showing off.” Bade tried to remember the correct translation. “Living god among us, highest child of the gods, ruler of all within…” Wincing, he went over it in his mind again, picturing his tutor’s pinched little face. “Ruler of all within our borders, most sacred, precious, divine, and holy gift to all in this land. The one hundred eighty-second.” “I can’t convince you that he is a god,” Orinakin said. “You will have to see it for yourself. Or, you may want to speak with Prince Anoremin. As royal high priest and Anosukinom’s brother, he is very qualified to speak on the subject.” Looking amused again, he said, “I haven’t managed to convince you that my hair is purple or that Anosukinom is both a man and a god. What was your next question? What makes our gods more powerful than anyone else’s?” “Something like that.” Bade mostly remembered blurting out a nowembarrassing blather of questions. “I wouldn’t say that our gods are more powerful,” Orinakin said. “They are very present in our daily lives, but so are the gods of other people. We put a lot of emphasis on being grateful to the gods, on serving them and praying to them and thanking them and offering tribute, but so do other people. I think that we’ve been very blessed to have clear lines of communication between the people and the gods. There seems to be a much more direct and obvious level of action and reaction, of question and answer, of prayer and response. That doesn’t make our gods more powerful, or even more attentive. That just demonstrates that our ways work well for us. And that, to answer your next question, may be what makes Orina Anoris ancient, powerful, and different.” “You’ve found systems that work for you, and you’re following them,” Bade said. “Yes. After six thousand years of the Dynasty of the Seven Siblings, we’ve worked out a lot of the details, and we stay with what produces good results. The gods are happy, and the people are happy, so why make large changes?” Absentmindedly tugging at the long sleeves of his purple robes, Orinakin tilted his head to one side. “As for how to win the pharaoh’s heart, I don’t know what to say. I would only want him to give his heart to someone who loves him, and you don’t love him.” “I’m sure that I’ll love him once I’ve met him,” Bade said. “Most people do,” Orinakin admitted with a brief smile. “I can tell you,” he offered, “which tactics have failed the other suitors. Do not court his 145 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land brothers or his advisors. We are not the ones you must impress. Anosukinom is perfectly capable of making up his own mind. We’re likely to appreciate your company, and he will of course hope for his future husband to get along well with his brothers, but if you only flatter us for his sake and are insincere, we’ll know.” “I’m not very schooled in charm and flattery,” Bade said. “I wish that I were, but it’s not one of my strengths.” “Dillane adores that about you, and I must admit that I do, too. I would like to have someone as well-intentioned and candid as you at some of my meetings and dinners. It would be a nice change for everyone there.” “Thank you,” Bade said. He’d never guessed that he was well suited for international relations. “You may want to avoid spending too much time with Queen Anikira,” Orinakin said. “Some suitors try to ingratiate themselves to her, but she often doesn’t appreciate it. She is, obviously, very important to Anosukinom, and he values her opinions, and he’d prefer to marry someone she likes. However, his relationship with his wife and his relationship with his husband are, in essence, separate. The king and queen often become quite good friends, but their marriages to Anosukinom are distinct from each other. You’re no more marrying Anikira than you are me. You’re marrying Anosukinom, and he’s where all of your focus should be.” “But we will see her,” Bade said. He was still trying to comprehend marrying someone who was already married. Such a thing was unheard-of in Nosupolis. “Yes,” Orinakin said. “She won’t judge you too harshly, because she wants Anosukinom to come to his own conclusions.” That was a relief, he supposed. “Your last question was, why are you here?” Orinakin asked. “You’re here because you struck me as a special, unique kind of person. You’re very generous. You have a strong sense of duty. You burn with the desire to make yourself useful, to accomplish great things for your country, for your people, for your king. I don’t know what your destiny is any more than you do, but I sense that it will be a great one, and I don’t believe that it sought you in Nosupolis. I believe that you are meant to be out in the world.” “My destiny?” Bade asked. “You’re going to be someone,” Orinakin said. “Someone larger than the second son you’ve been.” “King of Orina Anoris?” Bade suggested. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “If so, it would be a blessing for you and for us,” Orinakin said. “Hand me the knife in your boot.” What? “How did you know that I had a knife in my boot?” “You used it earlier.” Oh, yes. So much for Orinakin’s uncanny insight. “I’ve carried it for years. Vade and I used to sit outside on the steps and whittle pieces of wood. We still do, sometimes, but we’re not any better at it now than we were as children.” Slipping it from his boot, he gave it to Orinakin. It was a small and simple knife, not as large or as deadly as the ones that T’rin and Dranz carried. “We seem to be a rather well-armed group of suitors.” “You needn’t be intimidated,” Orinakin said, turning the knife over in his hands, studying the handle in the flickering light. “By what?” Bade asked. “T’rin and Commander Dranz.” death.”

“They remind me that I have no experience with life,” he said. “Or with

“Having experience with death is not always a good thing,” Orinakin said. “It is also not always a bad thing. Experience with life is something that you have a lot of. Haven’t you been alive for twenty-two years now?” “Only in my small world,” Bade said. “I’ve barely been anywhere outside of Nosupolis. I’ve never done anything.” “You’ve lived,” Orinakin said. “You’ve loved. You’ve cried. You’ve laughed, shouted, celebrated, defended, and sang. You’ve played and fought and struggled. You’ve grieved. You’ve hoped. That’s living. You had the chance to expand your world, and you took it, and now you’re here. So are they.” He rubbed his thumb over the letters inscribed on the blade. “This is your brother’s.” “We traded a long time ago,” Bade said. “His got a knick on the blade when he fell down the stairs, and since it was my fault that he fell, we traded.” “You don’t fight often,” Orinakin said. “No,” Bade said. “It’s hard for anyone to stay mad at Vade. He has an infectious smile and an even more infectious laugh.” Orinakin smiled at him. “You realize that they say the same of you.” He blinked. “Who?” tutors.”

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In This Land “You did research on me?” He should’ve guessed that, but no one had said a thing about it. Orinakin had talked to Vade about him? What had his old tutors said? Well, since he was here, they must’ve said good things, so Orinakin must not have spoken to his old history tutors. “I wanted to know that I was making the correct choice.” “Why did you choose me, and not Vade?” Orinakin’s eyes glittered like amethysts in the darkness. “He didn’t call to me the way that you did.” Bade suddenly realized how very close to each other they were sitting. And how very cold the air was, but how very warm he felt. Lifting the knife, Orinakin reached back and, with a few quick flicks, severed his braid. Oh, no. “You cut your hair,” Bade said senselessly. He’d cut his hair. His gorgeous, gorgeous hair. Orinakin offered him the knife, but he took the braid instead, and of course it was gloriously soft and silky against his skin. “You shouldn’t have done that.” “It’ll grow back,” Orinakin said, carelessly ruffling what remained. It fell just to his jaw now, framing his beautiful face. “Maybe I should keep it short. Ebutadesin always has short hair, and he looks great. He works out in the fields a lot, and if it’s too long it gets in his way,” he explained. Bade took the knife from him, tucking it safely away. “When’s the last time your hair was above your shoulders?” “Years ago,” Orinakin said. “Maybe when I was fifteen. Our older brothers had long hair, and Selorin and I decided to grow ours out, too.” Orinakin’s hair had been the most captivating thing that Bade had ever seen on an actual human being. Now that half of it was gone, his eyes took the prize. Bade wished that there were more light, so that he could get a better look, but, “I’ve never seen so many different shades of purple.” For a moment, Orinakin looked puzzled; then he blinked selfconsciously. He hesitated for so long that Bade realized: Orinakin didn’t know what to say. Bade grinned, wanting to laugh. This was a priceless moment. Orinakin’s career was all about speaking, conversing, communicating, and for once, he was speechless. Seeing his humor snapped Orinakin out of it; he smiled back and said, “On behalf of the gods, I thank you for your compliment.” “You’re welcome,” Bade said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “It is late,” Orinakin said, glancing around, tucking his hair behind his ears. The smooth, firm line of his jaw was highlighted by the frame of his hair, and his long, elegant neck was exposed. Bade wondered if it could feel as satiny, silky-smooth as it looked. “It would be best for us to retire for the night.” “Of course,” Bade said. “Thank you for your time.” “It was a pleasure,” Orinakin said. It really had been. Rising, Bade bid him good night, then went to the back corner of the basket where a few small beds had been arranged. Crawling onto his, he realized that he still held Orinakin’s braid. Deciding neither to toss it overboard nor hand it back, he tucked it under his pillow and went to sleep. Selorin had spent long hours in his office, studying the history of laws applicable to upcoming cases, going over his schedule with his clerks and assistants, and meeting with lawyers. He’d returned to the palace late, and gone to the temples to kneel before the altar of Okanoti, the god of safety and travel, who would bring his brother safely home to him. He didn’t know how long he’d been there when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder and a calm, low voice said, “Praying won’t bring him home any faster. Have you eaten anything since this afternoon?” Remin. Sighing, Selorin stood and turned to face his older brother. “I had lunch.” “In other words, no. Starving yourself won’t bring him home any faster, either,” Remin said, putting an arm around his waist and guiding him along. “We’ll have dinner, and then you’re going to bed.” Sometimes he suspected that his brothers and assistants conferred with each other on how many hours he spent at work, how often he ate, and how he slept. It was true that he devoted a lot of time to the office, to his cases and decisions, but that was necessary for the job. Besides, it kept his mind off of Orinakin, sometimes. “Haven’t you already had dinner?” “I was giving counsel,” Remin said. “There are some Anorians who have distant relatives and friends in Vafiance who have been affected by the drought there.” That would explain the lines around his eyes. “For how long?” He didn’t like how pale Remin looked. “A few hours.” Selorin translated that to mean roughly six hours, and likely more. “You could have let some of the other priests speak with them,” he said. He slid his own arm around Remin’s waist and found, as he’d suspected, that Remin had lost weight again. One of Remin’s favorite activities was eating; he loved to eat, www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land loved to try new dishes, loved sweet things, loved spiced treats, loved the most common foods and the most exotic. Despite the amount of food he ingested when any was in sight, he was thin as a stick. He invested so much of himself in his work, in honoring the gods, in bringing the gods and the people closer together, in discerning the gods’ will and bearing the people’s burdens and praying and interpreting, that his body couldn’t sustain any kind of bulk, and he often missed meals in favor of work. His constant and unwavering devotion to the priesthood took its toll, and after he’d lost a dangerous amount of weight during his first year, Kudorin had ordered him to spend one day, every other week, working with Desin. Desin took pleasure in ensuring that those days were filled with a great deal of physical labor, and now Remin had a sleek layer of muscle over his slender body, although he still didn’t like spending so much time away from his own work. “There are times when the people wish to be as close to the gods as possible. They find comfort in my presence that they don’t find with the other priests. During times of tragedy, I cannot deny them any solace that it is in my power to offer.” “Orinakin’s letter said that he pledged our help,” Selorin said. “Kudorin will do whatever he can.” Remin murmured a few words of prayer and thanks, then said, as they stepped into the dining hall, “You cut your hair.” “It looks terrible,” Selorin said, running his fingers through the blue strands. “I’ll probably just grow it back out.” “You miss Orinakin,” Remin said, servants entering with platters of food as the two of them seated themselves. “Of course I do,” Selorin said. “We all do.” Remin nodded, waiting for the servant to fill the goblet at his hand. “The four-legged table does not stand on three legs alone.” “A seven-legged table could stand on six,” Selorin pointed out. “Eight.” Rini sat on the edge of the table at Selorin’s elbow. “An eightlegged table.” “Seven,” they said. “You know,” Selorin told Remin, “that Orinakin wouldn’t be doing his part to steady the table if he stayed home.” “He could,” Rini said. “He could stay here and let people come to him, instead of going to see them. Kings, presidents, and prime ministers come here all of the time.” “It’s important for him to see, first-hand, how other people live,” Selorin said. “He needs to see their conditions. He needs to judge them for himself, so www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land that he can present Kudorin with an accurate description. And, it’s important for us to show respect and interest in other societies. We want to help people, Extra, and we can’t do that properly or generously if we make them come to us. Sometimes we have to go to them.” “It doesn’t always have to be Orinakin,” Rini said. “Talin could go sometimes.” “You’d miss Talin if he were gone,” Remin said, as the servants refilled his plate. “No, I wouldn’t,” Rini said, taking the fork from Selorin’s hand and feeding himself. “Anosanim would,” he decided. “We all would,” Remin said, as one of the servants stepped forward to hand Selorin another fork. “Would you like a plate?” “No, I’m fine,” Rini said, taking another forkful of potatoes. “I can’t wait to see Orinakin again. I hope that the suitors are fun this time. That last set, those guys were boring. That sultan was hot, though. I wish that he’d stayed longer.” “I don’t envy Orinakin his task,” Remin said. “Finding men within Kudorin’s age range who not only are homosexual but also are willing to leave their home countries, their families and duties, to travel here for the possibility of becoming the pharaoh’s husband, it is not a simple task,” Selorin said. “And even after that, Kudorin never marries any of them,” Rini said. “He just sends them back home.” Shaking his head, he took a sip from Selorin’s goblet. “It’s too bad that he can’t at least have sex with them first.” “You mean, it’s too bad that you can’t have sex with them first,” Selorin said with a smile. “Well, sure,” Rini said. “I’d never have sex with anyone Kudorin was still considering, but if he isn’t going to marry them after all, why not - - I mean, there’s no reason that we have to send them home without - - they’re hot! They’re good-looking, attractive guys. If Kudorin isn’t going to have sex with them, why can’t we?” “It’s disrespectful,” Selorin said. “To them, to Kudorin, and to the process.” “The process?” Rini repeated. “The process doesn’t care.” “The process always cares,” Selorin said. Chewing and swallowing, Remin said, “If you wish to disgrace the honor of the pharaoh and the ways through which he seeks love, the way through which your pharaoh mother found your queen mother, as pharaohs have done 151 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land for generation upon generation through the ages, then do as you will. Only remember,” he added, “that while the wind answers not to the rock, the-” “You’re just upset that you can’t have sex with them, either,” Rini said. Reaching for his goblet, Remin sighed. “The things that I could’ve done if I’d only had five minutes with that sultan…” Despite having gone to bed late, Bade was still among the first to awaken. After washing and dressing, he joined T’rin and Orinakin at the breakfast table. Sitting, he stared at Orinakin as servants placed food before him. “Your hair’s long again.” “Good morning,” Orinakin said with a smile. “Good morning,” Bade replied automatically, getting back up and walking around to stand behind Orinakin. His hair was down below his shoulders again, a bit shorter than it had been yesterday morning, but much longer than last night. “How did you do that?” “I told you,” Orinakin said. “I grew it back.” Taking Dillane’s customary seat at Orinakin’s side, Bade leaned in, trying to see where the extra length came from. It had to be a wig, or some of that braided-in hair extensions that the women of Linnere used. “I cut my hair short last night,” Orinakin was explaining to T’rin. “To show Prince Bade how quickly it was capable of growing back.” “He still doesn’t seem to believe you,” T’rin commented. “No, he doesn’t,” Orinakin agreed. Bade leaned closer, narrowing his eyes, trying to see if the roots really were purple. They certainly looked purple, but an Anorian prince who dyed his hair wouldn’t do an inferior job of it. “I find that people who don’t believe their eyes will believe their hands,” T’rin said. “What one sees is not as real as what one touches.” “Very wise,” Orinakin said. “Prince Bade, would you-” He’d been concentrating on locating the point where the real hair ended and the fake began, but suddenly the meaning of their conversation caught up with him, and he realized what Orinakin was about to offer. “No, thank you,” he said quickly, sitting back. “I will say that people have stared at my hair for all of my life,” Orinakin said. “I know that they’ve wondered about it. Among some of the less advanced societies, I’m referred to by the color of my hair and the mark on my hand, not by my name.” T’rin nodded casually in confirmation. “But no one’s ever outright asked me if the color was real before.” He smiled at Bade. “Thank you.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “The people talk and wonder,” T’rin said. “But you are understood to be marked by the gods, and therefore you are accepted.” “I can’t be the only person who’s ever asked you,” Bade said. “Someone must have said something.” “They’re all too polite,” Orinakin said. “You aren’t offended at the insult to your honor and your gods that he doesn’t believe you?” T’rin asked. “No,” Orinakin said. “There’s no malice in it. Bade is simply curious, and he means no offense, therefore I take no offense.” “Anyone who questioned my honor and the power of my gods would find his blood on my knife,” T’rin said. He paused to eat a slice of fruit. “If I took offense,” he added, swallowing. “Then I shall take great pains not to offend you,” Bade said. T’rin shrugged dismissively. “You do not offend me. You are, as Prince Orinakin says, without malice. You are also not without intelligence, and so your questions are not dull. I do not choose to be plagued by the prattling of idiots.” “You may have trouble being King of Orina Anoris, then,” Orinakin said. “One of your main duties will be to host the pharaoh’s guests, and not all of them fascinate.” T’rin’s gaze was direct. “When I pledge myself to Anosukinom, I shall commit myself to fulfilling any duty that he lays before me. If it falls to me to host and entertain the palace’s guests, then I shall do so.” Bade admired T’rin’s confidence. “Does your father entertain many official guests?” “Yes,” T’rin said. “More than yours.” Bade was so surprised by T’rin’s boldness, he laughed. Beside him, Orinakin joined in, and the corners of T’rin’s mouth lifted. “If you would like me to view you as a formidable opponent, you need only say so,” Bade said. “Or, perhaps no words are needed. The marks on your body speak for themselves.” “That is their intent,” T’rin said. “You bear no tattoos, no scars?” “It isn’t customary for Nosupolins to tattoo themselves,” Bade said. “I do have a small scar on my knee, from when I was very young. My older brother dropped a plate, and I was so little I crawled right over the shards of it.” T’rin nodded. “My first scar is from when my older sister dropped me and I cut my leg on a rock.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “Perhaps I should thank the gods that my older brothers did me no harm,” Orinakin said. “You have an older sister?” Bade asked T’rin. “But you, as the oldest male, will become chief?” “Yes. Would not your brother become king, whether or not he had an older sister?” “Yes,” Bade admitted. “Women only take the throne if there is no male heir.” He turned to Orinakin. “But whoever is first-born becomes pharaoh.” “We do not assign roles according to sex,” Orinakin said. “Just as my mother was pharaoh and my aunt was royal diplomat, we have men and women in all occupations. All that matters is capability.” “Our people would not follow a woman,” T’rin said. “If the pharaoh chooses you,” Bade said, “do you have a younger brother to take over?” “My father has many sons,” T’rin said. “They are qualified.” “Chief Y’nalin has nine wives,” Orinakin explained. Nine?! “That must make for a very large family,” Bade said, trying to sound conversational and not shocked. He’d heard of such things, but he’d never met anyone who lived that way. “Then you, as chief, would also be expected to take several wives?” “I should have at least three already,” T’rin said. “But I have refrained. I hoped to elevate my tribe by marrying the pharaoh, and I knew that I would not be considered eligible if I had either a wife or a child.” Bade was fascinated. “Then you’ve been preparing for this for a while.” “The pharaoh is both my sex and my age,” T’rin said. “To wed him has been my goal.” Bade had never even considered it. He’d never imagined that anyone would find him interesting or accomplished enough. He wondered, though, about T’rin’s sexual interests. The pharaoh was obviously a man, but T’rin kept talking about having wives, not husbands. Orinakin wouldn’t select someone who preferred women, would he? “The Kelan chief always takes several wives, to ensure that there will be many healthy male warriors,” Orinakin said. “T’rin would, like his father and grandfather before him, do his duty and father many children.” “Yes,” T’rin agreed. “But he prefers men,” Orinakin added. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “Yes,” T’rin said again, nodding. “I have bedded many warriors. I have selected several men from among our captured nations and made them my,” he glanced at Orinakin, “the word for,” and he said something that Bade didn’t recognize. “Harem,” Orinakin said. “Or belam.” T’rin nodded. “I have made a belam for myself,” he told Bade. “To meet my needs.” “You have a harem?” Bade could hardly get the word out. How could anyone discuss such things in public, in the open air of day, during a meal? “Does not the pharaoh?” T’rin asked. “He has two,” Orinakin said. “One male, one female.” A wife, a husband, and two harems? How much sex did one man need? Bade wouldn’t even know what to do with a harem. Well, there was always the obvious, but wasn’t it embarrassing, to have sex in front of other people? Or maybe the other people in the harem didn’t watch? He’d never even heard of a male harem before, but apparently they were popular. “My education is sorely lacking.” “Good morning, everyone,” Dillane said, joining them, taking Bade’s seat since Bade was in his. “Your Highness, Your Highness, my lord. What are we discussing on this bright and sunny morning?” “Belams,” T’rin said. “One of my favorite subjects,” Dillane said. “I, myself, have not been fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the pharaoh’s infamous favorites, but I must say that, if they’re anything like Prince Orinakin’s, I can see why he hides them away.” “He doesn’t hide them,” Orinakin said. “He simply, oh, go on, ask me,” he told Bade. “You have a harem?” Bade asked, shocked. “It’s not my harem,” Orinakin said. “It’s also more than one,” Dillane said with a wink. “There are seven belams in the palace,” Orinakin said. “One male and one female, for the pharaoh, shared by his husband and wife. Three for the siblings. Two for honored guests, one of each sex.” “You have three harems?” Bade asked. “What do you do with three harems?” Dillane snickered. T’rin chuckled. Orinakin smiled and said, “I’m sure that you can figure it out.” 155 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land Bade wanted to fall out of the balloon. “I didn’t mean to phrase my question so badly.” Three harems? They had to be filled with some of the most beautiful women in - - or were they? Maybe one of them was populated with men. Handsome, sexy, half-naked men who, oh, yes, Bade was going to fantasize about that for quite a while. “I have to share them with my brothers,” Orinakin said. “But there are fifteen people in each belam, so I can’t complain that I lack attention.” “Fifteen people?” Dillane repeated. “Let us be more candid, Prince Orinakin. Fifteen men. Fifteen beautiful, tempting, highly skilled young men who captivate with a smile. I wonder how your brothers ever get anything else done.” Orinakin had crammed his harems full of men? Exclusively men? Bade gazed in wonder and envy. He couldn’t imagine rooms full of attractive young men whose only occupation was to pleasure and satisfy him. “They’re nothing compared to the pharaoh’s belams,” Orinakin said, almost in self-defense. “I am not, I fear, too much gentleman to admit that I have sampled the rich offerings of the palace belams,” Dillane said. “I trust that, even though we are honored guests, during this visit we will be expected to eschew such pleasures?” “Anosukinom would make no such claims upon you,” Orinakin said. “The belams are there for your enjoyment. Should you be chosen as his future husband, the situation will change, but as long as you are simply suitors, seek your pleasure as you would.” T’rin made an agreeable grunt, but Bade was trying to grasp the concept that he’d just been offered the pleasures of a harem. A harem? Him? He was allowed to visit a harem? An actual harem? “Our guests often prefer to have someone sent to their rooms,” Orinakin said. “It is more discreet than a public visit to the belam itself.” “Wherever you go in this world, you will never see any people more beautiful than those in Orina Anoris,” Dillane said. “Even Aiae would be lost in a crowd there. Our royal host,” he gestured to Orinakin, “is a perfect example.” Orinakin really was strikingly beautiful. His aunt, even in her later years, had been quite beautiful as well. Orinakin’s high cheekbones, straight nose, and sensuous mouth put sculpture to shame, and those captivating amethyst eyes“I appreciate the compliment,” Orinakin said with a smile, “but I’m not nearly as handsome as that. I do trust, however, that you will not find Anosukinom lacking.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land Dillane shook his head before taking a sip of water. “I would be hardpressed to find any human being to rival the pharaoh. The brilliance of his eyes alone makes me blink every time I look at him.” Bade frowned. The priest was gold, Orinakin was purple, Orinakin’s twin the judge was blue, there had been green and orange and red and, what was the eighth brother? Black and white hair with silver eyes? “What color is the pharaoh?” “What color is the pharaoh?” Dillane repeated. “He-” Orinakin put up a hand, silencing Dillane. “I would prefer that Prince Bade wait to meet Anosukinom for himself before being offered too much information.” “You,” Dillane said with a broad smile, “are in for quite a surprise.” Bade didn’t like the sound of that. The morning passed quickly, and after lunch, the servants began to pack up everything to prepare for descent. Soon enough, the balloons crossed the river, the great, wide, and generous Edi. Lush, vibrant fields rolled before them. “Orina Anoris,” Orinakin said, as the others gazed over the land. “May the gods forever bless it.” Already, his heart felt lighter, his mind clearer. The sky was a pure blue, the air fresh, the sun bright. The landing fields were in view, with the great palace just beyond; the sight of those familiar white walls brought warmth to his chest. He’d only stepped into his role as royal diplomat almost two years earlier, and he still wasn’t used to spending weeks and months away from home. Wherever he was, Orina Anoris called to him. According to his aunt, it always would. Sparing a glance for his guests, Orinakin saw that Dranz and T’rin stood with their feet planted apart, arms crossed over their chests, impassive expressions warning the basket not to test their will. Dillane sat on one couch, talking to Aiae; Bade sat on another, clutching the side of the basket with both hands, looking a bit pale but otherwise all right. As the balloon began its descent, on its way in for a gentle, easy landing, Orinakin found himself walking closer to the basket door, eager to step onto his homeland again. “Orinakin!” “Selorin!” The sight of his brother gripped Orinakin’s heart. Scrambling over the edge of the basket, he hit the ground before the conveyance did, laughing and throwing his arms around his twin. “Selorin.” “You finally made it,” Selorin said, a tight squeeze cutting off his air. “It’s good to see you.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land Selorin. The sight of the river had told him that he was home again, but now he truly felt it. “How are you?” Orinakin asked, finally releasing his brother. Still in formal judge’s robes, Selorin must have come directly from court. “What have I missed?” “The Alanohi Festival was a grand affair this year,” Selorin told him. “Libi did very well in his last turn as festival leader.” Selorin’s blue-eyed gaze drifted past Orinakin to the balloon. “Is our future king among these men?” “It is my hope,” Orinakin said, dropping his hand as he turned. “Let me introduce you.” As they’d crossed the river into Orina Anoris, Bade had been stunned by the lush beauty of the land before him. Was it something in the soil that created such rich greens? He’d been admiring the scenery when he’d caught sight of an enormous, sprawling complex, shimmering white in the bright sunlight; realizing that it could only be the palace, he’d wondered how anyone could call such an elaborate structure “home.” It was several times larger than the castle he’d grown up in, and he could only imagine how ornate it would be up close. Realizing that the servants were preparing to land, that the balloon was losing altitude, he’d quickly seated himself, holding on to the side of the basket for security. While he’d managed to become somewhat accustomed to being airborne, he still wasn’t sure about the safety of the landing process. He’d been watching the ground come closer and closer, eyeing it uneasily, when, as the basket came within a few feet of the grass below, Orinakin had vaulted right over the side! Disbelieving, Bade had gasped, while Aiae said a few surprised words beside him. Orinakin had landed safely, however, and immediately stepped forward to embrace someone. This new man was dressed in fancy, formal, layered blue robes, with long hair in varying shades of blue braided back from his hairline tightly to his scalp before hanging loose over his shoulders. This must be the judge, Orinakin’s twin brother. The basket landed with a surprisingly gentle thud as servants bustled around, tying down the basket and carrying trunks. Bade stood carefully, testing his legs. He felt a bit weak in the knees, but it was a relief to have solid ground beneath him again. Joining the others in walking from the basket, he stepped onto soft grass with firm dirt beneath, and sighed with relief. chair?”

“Your Highness,” Orinakin said, giving him a smile, “may we offer you a

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In This Land obvious difference in coloring, Orinakin truly did look exactly like the bluehaired man. They both shared the same height, build, and bone structure. The straight nose, the arching eyebrows, the soft pink lips with the same little amused quirk, it was uncanny. Immediately missing his own twin, he said, “No, thank you, at the moment, I’d rather enjoy feeling the ground beneath my feet.” “As you wish,” Orinakin said with that same amused smile. “Prince Bade of Nosupolis, may I present my brother, Prince Anosakim Inanodat Selorin A Diki, royal judge of Orina Anoris?” “Hello,” Bade said, a bit distracted by the variety of colors in the man’s eyes. There were at least five shades of blue in his hair and ten in his eyes. “It is an honor to be here in your country.” “Thank you for gracing us with your presence,” Selorin said. “I look forward to a very happy stay,” Bade said. As Orinakin and Selorin moved on for more introductions, Bade admired the way the sunlight played across the rich purples of Orinakin’s hair, then gazed towards the palace. The servants already had begun to load carts with the trunks from the second balloon, presumably for transport to the palace. He wondered how many people lived there. How many people attended the pharaoh? It was such a large complex, what did it contain? A carriage was coming along the smooth road from the palace. As it drew nearer, and Bade realized that it was coming straight towards him, he paid it more attention. An open carriage, it was pulled by three side-by-side horses. The impeccable grooming of the horses, the shine and polish of the carriage, and the driver’s neat attire suggested that this was a royal conveyance. A young man lounged on one of the benches, and Bade stared at him with stupefied fascination. Black and white hair stood all over his head; he wore blue pants with a red scarf about his neck. Over his finely detailed musculature, the skin of his chest and arms was as smooth and perfect as delicately poured cream. As the horses slowed to a stop, he stood and called out, “And how many of those trunks are filled with gifts for me, Orinakin?” Surprised at the young man’s boldness, Bade saw Orinakin excuse himself from Aiae. This must be the eighth, youngest brother. “Where are your manners?” Orinakin asked, approaching the carriage. His smile was warm; his tone was indulgent. “Where are your clothes?” Selorin asked, with the same patient tone. “I have on more than he does,” the young man pointed out, his gaze flickering over T’rin. He licked his lips, shifting his weight from one foot to the www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land other with sensual fluidity. “Orinakin,” he said, stepping down from the carriage with a suggestive smile, “introduce me to our guests.” Humoring him, Orinakin put an arm around his waist, guiding him forward to Bade and the others. His eyes were a remarkable pure silver; the way his gaze lingered on certain parts of Bade’s anatomy brought a blush to Bade’s cheeks. “Prince Bade of Nosupolis,” Orinakin said, “may I present Prince Anosalim Inanodat Kuladin A Rini, youngest brother of the pharaoh?” “It is an honor,” Bade said, attempting to hide his curiosity. “It’s a pleasure,” the young man corrected him with a sultry smile. A few minutes later, after the eighth brother, who asked them to call him Rini, had been introduced to all of the suitors and had flirted with each one, they all got into the carriage for a ride to the palace. Selorin invited Bade and T’rin to sit along the first bench with him; Dranz, Dillane, and Orinakin sat on the second bench; Rini sat in the back with Aiae. Under the guise of checking out the scenery, Bade glanced back there halfway through the ride. Talking softly, wearing a slyly flirtatious expression, Rini was sitting very close to Aiae, slowly tugging his scarf loose; it slipped free of his neck and pooled in his lap, baring the smoothness of his neck, exposing the strength of his shoulders. Aiae didn’t seem to know where to look; Bade quickly faced forward again. The closer they came to the palace, the more detail Bade noticed. Huge, elaborate carvings covered the walls; smaller ones decorated the rooflines. The people of Orina Anoris didn’t believe in depicting their actual gods, but they had symbols to represent each god’s essence or purpose, as Bade understood it; he assumed the palace decorations to be those symbols. They were incredibly detailed, like nothing he’d ever seen before, surpassing even the greatest carvings and sculptures from the castle at home. As they neared the palace, they passed more and more people; everyone bowed as the carriage rolled by. The Anorians had dark eyes, dark hair, and various kinds of clothing - - pants, skirts, robes, gowns, in all fabrics and colors. Nothing as fine as what Orinakin and Selorin wore, but nothing quite peasantlike, or at least like what peasants wore in Bade’s experience. Legend and rumor had it that even the poorest in Orina Anoris had an enjoyable way of life. Their bows didn’t seem perfunctory; they smiled, as if pleased to see the carriage pass. Legend and rumor also had it that no leader was as beloved or revered as the pharaoh. Traveling under an enormous archway decorated with eighteen distinct symbols, they entered the palace walls, coming into a large courtyard. The horses came to a stop, and servants stepped forward as if silently summoned, letting down the carriage steps and unhooking the horses. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “You have come a long way,” Orinakin said, as everyone disembarked. “These women,” as women in long brown gowns materialized out of nowhere, “will show you to your quarters. I will be honored to dine with you tonight, and in the morning, I will be pleased to introduce you to the pharaoh.” They wouldn’t see the pharaoh until tomorrow? The nervous knot in Bade’s stomach tightened unpleasantly. He wanted to begin, wanted to make progress. As Orinakin discreetly translated, Aiae looked disappointed, too; T’rin and Dranz, as always, appeared to take the announcement in stride. One of the women separated herself from the others and approached him with a benign smile. “Your Highness,” she said with a respectful bow, “if you will permit me, I shall show you to your rooms. My name is Beneta, and if you should ever want for anything, it shall be my honor to provide it.” Filing her name away in his memory, sure that he’d need to remember it, he followed her into the palace and nearly stopped short. Massive. Elaborate. White and gold and every color of the rainbow. Huge. Ornate. He hardly knew what to look at first; he could barely comprehend what he saw. High ceilings, as if extra space were needed to house gods. Beautifully arched doorways; brightly shining white; exquisitely detailed symbols on the walls; rich splashes of color: red, orange, gold, green, blue, purple. Long hallways stretched out before him, and huge rooms sprawled out from each archway. Along with the overwhelming splendor, he saw touches of life: vibrantly green plants and brightly colored flowers in large urns; gorgeous fountains running with water like shimmering crystals. One white dove flew overhead, then another. Servants passed dressed in warm shades of brown, light layered over dark; he saw a few rather official-looking people in pink whom he decided were something like royal advisors. They didn’t look as pinched and worried as his father’s advisors, but there was something about their demeanor that suggested that their job was to worry and offer advice to someone who didn’t have to take it. After taking him down a few hallways that were more beautifully constructed and decorated than his father’s throne room, Beneta opened a door of thick, dark, highly polished wood. “The pharaoh would like to offer you these rooms to be your quarters during your stay.” The carpet was the most lush and inviting thing he’d ever stepped on, even through his sturdy boots, which he immediately wanted to take off. The rooms were bright, with white walls and colorful touches; the main room boasted comfortable couches and chairs and a broad table; there was a bedroom and bathroom to one side. Both the bedroom and the sitting room bore expansive windows; there was a door leading to a huge courtyard of green grass, winding pathways, tall trees, and sparkling fountains. Bright, exotic flowers sprouted in the courtyard and in tubs in Bade’s rooms by the windows. There 161 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land was a wooden staircase spiraling up to a second story, with well-furnished rooms and a small balcony. Bade’s trunks sat, waiting for him, in the bedroom. “Should you desire anything, if you would be so good as to twist this, I will be happy to assist you,” Beneta assured him, gesturing to a knob on a panel by the doorway. “I will be honored to provide you with any sort of food, drink, or service that you would like. If you would let me know what sort of sexual entertainment you prefer, that can be supplied, as well.” Sexual entertainment? Was she referring to the harem? In their case, the belam. He couldn’t imagine calmly describing his desires and having her rummage among the belam’s occupants until she found someone who matched his preferences. How did Dillane do such things with easy acceptance? These people and their customs were utterly foreign to him; he barely knew how to speak to them. “Dinner shall be in the twenty-first hour,” she continued. “If you would like to run water or light a fire, simply read the prayers in the bathroom and over the fireplace. When it is time for dinner, I shall come to direct you to the banquet hall. Will you require anything before then?” “No, thank you,” he said, wanting to be alone to think, to digest. “Everything seems fine.” “As you wish,” she said respectfully. With a bow, she left. Wait. Had she just told him to read prayers? guests.

“A diverse group,” Selorin remarked, as the hostesses led away their

“That must have been a fun little trip,” Rini said, winding his scarf back around his neck as he watched the suitors leave. “The six of you stuck up in that basket together. T’rin must have been cold up there. I suppose that you were hospitable enough to offer him some…heat?” he asked with a glittering smile. “He did make use of a few blankets,” Orinakin said blandly. “Does Kudorin have time to see me now?” he asked Selorin. “Not for another hour,” Selorin said. “He’s meeting with Remin and the priests. But everyone’s eager to see you.” “They were all gathering up in your room to wait for you,” Rini said. “How has everyone been?” Orinakin asked. The hostesses had led the guests through an archway that would bring them closer to the guest quarters; Orinakin, Selorin, and Rini took a different archway, walking through hallways that led to the royal family’s private section of the palace. The brothers’ suites were there, and the suites of their pharaoh mother, queen mother, and king 162 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land father. The pharaoh had his own wing of the palace, with rooms for his current wife and future husband. There was less bustle in the family’s section than in the more public parts of the palace; access was restricted here. In previous years, when the brothers had been rowdy boys and their aunts and uncles had lived here with their own children, there had been much more noise and activity. Now that the brothers had come of age and taken over their destined roles, and their aunts and uncles and cousins had moved out and moved on, the halls were still and quiet as Orinakin walked through. “Selorin’s missed you,” Rini said. “He works all of the time. Anosanim’s so excited to have you home he’s been crying all morning.” “He cried once,” Selorin said. “We are glad to have you here,” he added. “I’m glad to be here,” Orinakin said. Stopping to embrace Selorin, he confessed, “It’s good to be home.” “There he is,” Desin’s voice said, and suddenly Orinakin was grabbed in a rib-crushing embrace that lifted him from the ground. “It’s about time you got back.” “Oh, Orinakin!” He was barely back on his feet before Anosanim flew at him, throwing loving arms around him. “You’re here! Oh, Orinakin, we’ve missed you. It’s so fantastic to see you again! You look fabulous! It’s been so awful without you, we’ve missed you terribly, it’s absolutely wonderful to see you again.” “I missed you, too,” Orinakin said, smiling with affection as Anosanim stepped back. Talin handed a handkerchief to Anosanim, then clapped Orinakin on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you.” “Oh, Orinakin,” Anosanim said again, blotting tears and then hugging him again. “It just isn’t the same here without you. We’ve missed you terribly. ” Smiling, Orinakin disentangled himself from Anosanim’s long hair and flowing orange robes. “It’s good to see all of you, too.” As they all went into Orinakin’s rooms together, he looked his brothers over, hungry for the sight of them. Desin, his green hair cut short as if he’d taken his own pruning shears to it, seemed to have packed on another layer of muscle while Orinakin had been away; his green pants and short-sleeved shirt were too tight again. At least his boots hadn’t tracked mud onto the carpets this time. Anosanim, who smelled of light spices today, had chalk all over his hands and was as emotional as usual. Talin, Anosanim’s identical twin, wore red pants and a shirt that stopped above his navel. His long red hair was in a messy knot at the back of his head, as www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land though he’d tied it back there out of sheer irritation just to get it out of his way; although Talin never said anything about it, Orinakin knew that the only reason no-nonsense Talin kept his hair long was as a show of loyalty to Anosanim, who was at once the person most and least like himself. “How have you been?” Anosanim asked. “How was your trip?” Desin asked. “Where are my presents?” Rini asked. “I’m fine, and the trip went well,” Orinakin said. “I’ll discuss the most pressing points with Kudorin this evening, if you have time to sit in on our meeting.” “Great,” Rini said. “Presents?” “How’s the temple?” Orinakin asked Anosanim, leading the way into his bedroom, where servants had placed his trunks. “I didn’t get a good look on the way in.” “It’s almost finished,” Anosanim said, following with the others. “Liri is overseeing the final touches.” “Tell him about the accident,” Rini said. “Inanodu blessed us,” Anosanim said, as Talin gave Rini a dark look. “One of the builders fell from a ladder, but she wasn’t up very high, and she only broke her leg. The healers say that she’ll be fine.” “Praise to Inanodu,” Orinakin said, briefly touching his fingertips to his chest, lips, and forehead as he knelt before the trunks. “Which one of these is which?” “You expect us to know?” Rini asked. “Your clothes are in that one, the gifts are in that one, and everything else is in that one,” Selorin said, gesturing. “You put all of my gifts in one little trunk?” Rini demanded, as Orinakin unlocked the second trunk Selorin had pointed to. “Our gifts,” Desin corrected him. “With one trunk, he didn’t have room to bring back something for everyone,” Rini said. “Sorry.” As Orinakin opened the trunk, sudden gagging and choking noises indicated that the scarf around Rini’s throat had suddenly become a bit too constricting. Coughing, laughter, and slapping and shoving ensued, as Orinakin lifted the cloths he’d laid overtop the presents. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t here to see the paintings,” he told Talin, as Desin and Rini pretended to fight behind him and Anosanim tried to break it up. 164 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land “They’re still up,” Talin said with his typical bland candor. “I’m working on the murals and sculptures for the new library, now. As soon as the year turns, work will begin.” “The new library!” Orinakin exclaimed. “Is that to be your first project?” Anosanim’s building, decorated with Talin’s art; an enormous undertaking, especially for anyone newly appointed, but what would it be like? Talin’s art tended to be literal, even severe; reading his poems gave Orinakin the sense that each word had been deliberately chiseled out of granite. Anosanim’s buildings, meanwhile, flowed like a beautiful melody. If it weren’t for the undeniable shades of their hair, Orinakin would think that they’d been switched at birth. Anosanim was meant to be an artist, a writer and poet and composer, a painter and sculptor and dreamer; Talin seemed destined for solid, heavy buildings and steady, sturdy construction. Still, they blossomed with what the gods had given them, and Anosanim’s beautiful buildings seemed as brilliant as Talin’s almost too-realistic paintings. Despite Talin’s apparent lack of emotion during daily life, when he put his brush to the canvas, he painted what he saw, without softening it or idealizing it, and the stark realism he laid out, the truth that he exposed, made even a familiar, common scene suddenly beautiful, heartbreaking, sublime. “We’re still in the earliest planning stages,” Talin said. “I can’t wait to get started,” Anosanim said breathlessly. “I’ve been so excited, sketching the library, and it’ll be so wonderful to see my work and Talin’s work side-by-side. You have to promise that you’ll be home for the grand opening, Orinakin. We can’t possibly do it without you there.” “I’ll do my best,” Orinakin said. “You know that I’m looking forward to it.” Taking carefully tied bundles of seeds from his trunk, he handed them up to Desin as everyone clustered around him. “These are for you.” “Gallery fruit and kernden bulbs!” Desin said excitedly, reading the labels. “This is perfect! We can plant these next month!” His eyes widened as he opened the last small bag. “Orinakin! You got me juanego! Kudorin’s going to love this! I’ll have to plant some in his garden.” “A little advice?” Rini said to Orinakin. “Don’t get me a gift that’s going to make someone else happy. Give me presents that are all about me.” “He doesn’t have to bring you anything at all,” Talin said. “Of course he does,” Rini said, insulted. “I’m his favorite brother.” “Oh, you are?” Selorin asked, amused, raising arched blue eyebrows. “I can put these bulbs beside the roses,” Desin said. “And these we can plant in a few weeks, although I’ll have to get these currigo seeds into the ground right away, because-” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “Nobody cares!” Rini exclaimed. “Get on with it, what else did you bring?” he asked Orinakin. “I’m pretty sure that Ebanosa cares,” Talin said dryly. “He’s the god of crops and plants and flowers and whatever, he has to care,” Rini said. “And would you like to apologize to him now?” Desin asked, curling one muscular arm around Rini’s neck. “Or once you regain consciousness?” His tone and expression were perfectly polite as his arm tightened. “Okay! Okay, I’m sorry, plants are great,” Rini said, pushing at Desin’s arm to no avail. “Crops are terrific, I love flowers, seeds are the most fascinating thing ever! What are you made of, iron? There’s no reason for you to be this huge unless you’re five people.” “Thank you for the seeds, Orinakin,” Desin said pleasantly, uncoiling his arm as Rini pretended to gasp dramatically for air and then ineffectually smacked at his shoulder. “You’re welcome,” Orinakin said, amused. “Here, Talin, this is for you and Libi, it’s a gift from the President of Haffnasia,” he said, handing over a large, thick book. “It’s four hundred years old, they just uncovered it in an old building they were tearing down. It’s a collection of ancient love poems translated from the original thousand-year-old Corcadian.” “This is priceless,” Talin said, opening it carefully to reveal carefully penned words decorated with elaborate depictions of flowers and lovers. “I wish that we had it in Corcadian.” “You couldn’t read it if you did,” Rini pointed out. “Kudorin could,” Talin said, turning a page. “Kudorin has better stuff to do than read dusty old books,” Rini said. “I’ll write to the President to thank him,” Talin told Orinakin. “He mentioned to me that Haffnasia is about to enter its six hundredth year as a nation,” Orinakin said. “He hinted that he’d like to have a poem of some kind to mark the occasion.” Rini snorted. “They turned six hundred, so they’re throwing a party? Good for them, but maybe they should wait and get back to you when they’re actually old enough to know what they’re doing. No nation under a thousand years old is competent.” “Extra, you expect us to throw you a party when you wake up in the morning,” Talin said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “That’s because I,” Rini explained, “am a child of the gods. I was born the son of Anosukinom Mutotanosa Situkabulanin Elanilanulanori Banotuda Kudorin A Rituliri. I am blessed by Adanotu. They’re a country. How hard is it to scrape together a country? You get some land, you throw some people on it, you call yourself their leader, and you make up a couple of rules. Any idiot can do that.” “Are you sure?” Talin asked. “I haven’t seen you pull it off.” “I’m a child of the gods,” Rini snapped. “I don’t need a country. Every inch of this planet is mine.” Drawing himself up, Rini glowered at them with contempt and disgust. “I would walk out right now and never speak to you again,” he said coldly, pausing to fling the end of his scarf over one shoulder, “if I weren’t such a good, forgiving, generous person.” “You’re staying because you want your presents,” Talin said. “It’s almost your turn,” Orinakin said kindly, reaching up a hand. “Come and sit down. I’ve missed you. I think you’ve grown since I saw you last.” Taking another minute to glare at Talin, Rini condescended to take Orinakin’s hand, relenting and sitting beside him on the carpet. “I’m almost as tall as you are, now,” Rini said. “You’re still the shortest,” Talin said. Orinakin quickly wrapped an arm around Rini’s waist to keep him from shooting to his feet. He knew that Rini was only on edge and easily riled because of loneliness; their pharaoh mother, queen mother, and king father were traveling and had left him behind this time. Orinakin, too, had been away, and one of Rini’s favorite cousins had recently taken a position far down the river. Rini required a lot of attention, a lot of affection, and a certain amount of reassurance. He got a lot of that from the belams, but Orinakin didn’t mind spoiling him a little bit, too. Visiting foreign lands, seeing the people there and admiring their cultures, was a great source of interest for Orinakin. Since all of his brothers but Rini were tied to the land, they couldn’t venture beyond the borders of Orina Anoris, so he did it for them, bringing back stories and treasures. He enjoyed seeing the fascination on their faces when he offered them gifts, just as he’d been excited when Riturihi, his aunt and the diplomat before him, had brought home presents. Rini, of course, absolutely adored gifts; his rooms were filled with them. Orinakin’s own quarters, luxuriously decorated in blue, held many unique items from foreign lands, from Mehhan masks to Grunnon bowls to some sort of musical instrument called a “klarinet” that made the most atrocious noises when blown into. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land Reaching into his trunk again, he handed Anosanim a roll of papers. “Please pass these on to Liri for me. They are, I’m told, the original designs for the House of Shonshwung in Morrain.” “Shonshwung?” Anosanim repeated with great interest, unrolling the sheets. “Oh, Talin, look at this. Look at those sweeping lines. I would love to design something this breathtaking.” “Nice.”

Standing beside Anosanim, Talin studied the sketches, then nodded.

“Oh, Orinakin, thank you,” Anosanim said, crouching down to embrace him. “They’re absolutely beautiful, I adore them. I’m going to study these tonight, they’re the perfect inspiration!” “You’re welcome,” Orinakin said, as Anosanim rose again. “Selorin, this is for you,” he said, passing his twin a thick tome of ancient Leonase laws that he knew Selorin would spend days reading over and over again, “and, Extra, this is for you.” Snatching up the cape with both hands, Rini stood, twirling it about himself. Silk, lined with ajana fur, the red cape bore delicate gold embroidery. Shedding his scarf, Rini swirled around in circles, making the cape flare. “How do I look?” “Strange,” Talin said. “Oh, Rini, that’s utterly gorgeous silk,” Anosanim said, stroking it. “It feels so good all over my skin,” Rini said, wrapping it around his naked upper body. “I could wear this every day.” Eyes lighting up, he grinned. “I should have sex on this!” Selorin sent Orinakin a look that said, “You should’ve known better.” To Rini, Orinakin said, “Porrassean dignitaries wear that for-” “Can you imagine having this against your skin while you’re-” “You’re not having sex on a ceremonial cloak!” Orinakin protested. Selorin was right; he really should have known better. Well, with any luck, the Porrasseans wouldn’t hear of the disgrace. “What else did you get me?” Rini asked, petting the cape. Sighing, Orinakin handed over a pair of boots. Made of snakeskin and nuya hide, they laced up over the thigh, and Rini immediately adored them. Then Orinakin gave him a pair of bright yellow pants; Rini liked bright colors, and since the pants were of a supple material bound to cling to each inch, he changed right into them, then and there. Rini was very fond of clothes that made people think of sex when they looked at him. Ignoring Selorin’s rolling eyes, since Selorin indulged Rini just as much as he did, Orinakin next gave a www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land blanket. Soft and thick, it had been decorated with small panels around the outer edges depicting scenes of lovemaking. Studying the embroidered images, Rini snickered and giggled, showing them to Desin, who grinned and tilted his head to one side for a better look. Last, Orinakin gave him a game. “You’ll show me how to play?” Rini asked, examining the game pieces. “I’ll teach you,” Orinakin promised. “It’s not too hard, is it?” Rini asked warily. They’d all learned to be suspicious of anything offered by an elder as entertainment since their tutors’ “games” had turned out to be sneaky lessons. “It’ll make you think,” Orinakin said, “but not too much.” “Good,” Rini said with a smile. “Let’s play it now.” “Now,” Selorin corrected, “Orinakin’s going to speak with Kudorin.” While Orinakin gathered a few things together in preparation for that meeting, Rini groaned. “You just got back. Don’t go to some boring meeting, come have dinner with me. You can tell me all about those guys you brought home.” “I’m going to tell Kudorin about them, if you’d like to come,” Orinakin offered. Considering the idea, Rini adjusted his load of gifts, weighing the concept of trying out his new clothes and showing off to his cousins with the concept of learning about the new men in the palace. “Come with us,” Anosanim coaxed. “We haven’t all been together in too long. It’s been forever since we all sat down together.” “I wouldn’t call that a bad thing,” Talin murmured. “If you come with us, you’ll be more informed than anyone else on the suitors,” Selorin pointed out. Convinced, Rini smiled brightly. “Let’s go!” The grand throne room was the largest room in the palace. One wall held guarded archways to the main hallway; the opposite wall held the pharaoh’s throne with an enormous engraving on either side: Akanoti, the god of the sun over the pharaoh’s right shoulder, and Odanoru, the god of the moons over his left. Along the wall to the throne’s right and left were sixteen more large engravings to represent the rest of the gods. The walls were pure, shining white. Before each of the eighteen symbols of the gods sat a short pot bearing a matching symbol and holding a small, strong flame. The tiled, mosaic floor looked as though someone had spilled buckets of paint across it; sparkling like 169 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land sunlight on the river, the floor was all colors of the rainbow shaded and faded into each other. In the very center, the illusion was broken by a gold-lined circle where red, orange, gold, green, blue, and purple, sat in bright, bold color around a circle like a prism, capturing and displaying all colors. On either side of the pharaoh’s throne was a similar but smaller throne. The one to the left sat empty, but there was a lovely young woman seated to the right: the queen, the pharaoh’s wife, Anikira. With her black hair and warm brown eyes, she was a true native of Orina Anoris; with her long white skirt and well-fitted white top, with white jewels shimmering in her tightly coiled hair, at her neck, at her ankles and wrists, she was a true wife of the pharaoh. It was traditional for the pharaoh’s opposite sex partner, blessed by the god of fertility, to wear white; the pharaoh’s partner of the same sex, blessed by the god of love, wore black. Standing before the throne stood a cluster of priests in white and gold. Their leader stood nearest the throne, dressed in a golden robe adorned with the symbols of the gods around the collar and down the front. This was the royal high priest, Orinakin’s brother, Remin. As Orinakin entered the room, Anikira looked over to him, a smile breaking across her lovely face. “Orinakin,” she said, rising. “You’ve come home.” “Your Highness,” he said, crossing the room and taking her hand in his to bow over it. “We’ve all missed you,” she said warmly. “I believe,” she told the assembled priests, “that we are finished for today. Thank you.” As the priests murmured their gratitude and drifted away, Orinakin turned to hug Remin, who caught him in a fierce embrace. “Where’s Kudorin?” Desin asked behind him. “I thank the gods that you have come home to us,” Remin whispered. “So do I,” Orinakin said honestly, finally letting go. “He went to go speak with some people who have friends and family members in Vafiance who have been affected by the drought,” Anikira said. “He said that it wouldn’t take very long, and he invited you to meet him in his rooms.” “All right,” Rini said. “Let’s go.” “I’ll join you there,” Orinakin said. “I’d like to visit the temples first.” “Would you like-” “No,” he said, giving Remin’s hand a light squeeze. “I’ll only be a few minutes.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “We’ll wait for you,” Rini said. “But only because I already got my presents.” “Thank you,” Orinakin said with a smile. Excusing himself from Anikira, he watched his brothers depart, Desin throwing a muscular arm around Remin’s slender shoulders, Anosanim already chattering to Talin, Rini hugging his gifts to his chest and leading the way, Selorin glancing back at the archway to give Orinakin a brief smile. Once they were gone, Orinakin walked through the palace to the temples. First entering the temple of Okanoti, god of safety and travel, he knelt before the altar to pray and offer thanks. He went next to the temple of Setanoto, god of peace and diplomacy, and then stopped in the temple of Etanoda, god of air and flight. There had been others in the previous temples, but not even a priest was in sight now, and Orinakin closed his eyes for an extra few minutes, taking advantage of the silence and stillness to order his thoughts. His problem was, even after he’d closed his eyes, he could still see what he didn’t want to see. Those soft, red lips. Those dark blue eyes. The light blond stubble on“Anosamim.” Warmth tingled across his scalp as long, gentle fingers threaded lightly through his hair. “Etanoda would prefer you to indulge in such thoughts somewhere else. Alanohi’s temple, perhaps.” Orinakin was on his feet and embracing his brother before another second passed. “Kudorin.” “Orinakin.” Kudorin’s embrace bathed him in the purest light. Kudorin’s voice was like music, sometimes, and sometimes like smoke, and sometimes like the dew that pearled across the grass in bright drops on early mornings. At the moment, soft by Orinakin’s ear, it sounded like the way that seeing the river again had made him feel: he was at home again, a home he loved, a home that loved him. The words themselves were of no consequence; some of them were unknown even to Orinakin. But the sound of them, the welcome, the depth of affection, the softly joyous emotion, made Orinakin tighten his arms around his brother the pharaoh and close his eyes and simply breathe in Kudorin’s love. Then, after a few minutes, Kudorin whispered, “You have been missed.” home.”

Orinakin opened his eyes, and Kudorin released him. “It is good to be

“You have seen too much,” Kudorin said, studying his face. “The drought pains you.” “There is a lot of suffering in this world,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “A lot of it is quiet, but it’s no less serious.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “To me, it is a scream,” Kudorin said softly. “Come.” The rainbow of jewels on his wrist flashed as he offered his hand. “We shall discuss this in my rooms, and we shall see how we can begin to help.” The pharaoh’s rooms were decorated in a rich blend of colors that always made Orinakin feel as if he’d walked into a luxurious box of jewels. On the first floor alone, he had an enormous bedroom, a spacious bathroom, his own private dining room, his own small temple, a gorgeously decorated sitting room, and a courtyard. The sitting room was where they settled now, Orinakin beside Selorin on one couch, Anosanim and Talin on another. On thick, soft cushions on the floor, Desin’s bulk sprawled beside slender Remin; Kudorin sat before the trunks the servants had brought in from the balloons, Rini sitting beside him and eyeing the trunks with great interest. Taking care of business first, Orinakin told Kudorin about the official parts of his travels, sharing what he’d learned, relaying messages. Kudorin listened attentively, nodding, his brilliant eyes never leaving Orinakin’s face. The others took brief notes on what applied to their fields of interest, but Kudorin had no such need. After only a few minutes, Rini fidgeted impatiently, bored and restless. As Orinakin spoke, Kudorin put a hand on the back of Rini’s neck and murmured, “Ssshhh, Anosalim.” A mere second later, Rini visibly calmed down, relaxing before their eyes. A moment passed; Kudorin removed his hand with a gentle caress, and Rini leaned against him familiarly, idly toying with the edge of the new cape, waiting patiently for the others to finish. Orinakin had been away for a long time, and had quite a number of issues to discuss with Kudorin and the others. Remin and Selorin were as authoritative as always, and Orinakin was proud of Desin’s wealth of knowledge. Before, Orinakin had always conferred with Liri and Libi, but Anosanim and Talin were so close to stepping into their roles, they’d been given leave to speak on behalf of the office. He was impressed with how informed and professional they sounded; Kudorin looked pleased. After they’d covered the most pressing issues, it was time for gifts again. Orinakin gave Remin a box of Furterian delicacies, which Remin took from his hands with great alacrity. Opening the box, he lifted it to his nose and inhaled. “Salted wuetters,” he murmured. “Phrakes. Mmm, dipped in chocolate.” “Really?” Desin asked, leaning in for a better look. “Mmm.” Remin selected a phrake and, sitting back, gradually bit into it. With a low, luxurious moan, he closed his eyes, chewing slowly. Carefully, cautiously, Desin reachedwww.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land Remin’s eyes shot open; he pinned Desin with a look. Not a word was said, but Remin’s gaze spoke volumes; Desin retracted his hand, lowering it to his lap, and didn’t try again. Once Desin was still, Remin relaxed; calm and pleased, licking his lips, he took another bite. “Thank you, Orinakin. They’re delicious.” “You’re welcome,” Orinakin said. “Extra, why don’t you go ahead and open those trunks so I can show Kudorin what everyone so generously sent to him.” Immediately sitting up straight, Rini began to tug at the straps and catches holding the trunks closed. “Not to me,” Kudorin said. “To Orina Anoris.” “They mentioned you by name,” Orinakin said. He and Kudorin went through this every time. He was sure that Riturihi hadn’t had this much trouble convincing Anosadum to accept tributes. said.

“I’m the representative of the land, of the people, of the gods,” Kudorin “I’m the representative,” Orinakin corrected him. “You’re the pharaoh.”

open?”

“Stupid,” Rini muttered, tugging at a clasp. “How do these cursed things

Murmuring a prayer, Kudorin passed his hand over the locks. As he drew his hand back, the lids rose to reveal the trunks’ contents. “Oh, right, of course,” Rini said. “Why didn’t I think of that?” “Because you can’t do it,” Talin said. Fortunately, Rini was too interested in presents to admit that he’d heard that, so he ignored Talin and began to dig through the trunks. Chattering, he pulled out rich fabrics, glittering jewels, stacks of books, handfuls of scrolls, small statues and figures, and, “What is this? They’re sending you rocks?” “It’s a precious gemstone, Extra, it’s simply uncut,” Orinakin said, as Kudorin distributed the gifts: fabrics to Talin, most of the books and scrolls to Selorin, most of the small statues and figures to Remin. The white jewels he set aside for Anikira; the others he sorted by color. “It looks like a big chunk of orange rock,” Rini said dubiously. “You want it?” he asked Anosanim. “I’ll have it made into jewelry for you,” Talin told Anosanim, taking it from Rini’s hands.


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In This Land “What is all of that?” Rini asked Remin, who was examining the figurines. “Why do they keep giving us their gods? We have our own gods. We don’t need theirs.” “Their gods are their first priority,” Remin said. “They honor us by presenting us with their most sacred tokens.” “It’s strange, to look right at a god,” Rini said, taking a small ivory icon from Remin’s hand. “Is this what they look like?” he asked Kudorin. “That’s what their people believe them to look like,” Kudorin said. “In other words, no,” Rini said, handing it back, sounding so much like Remin that Orinakin smiled. “People are so weird about their gods.” said. hair.

“They want to understand their gods and feel closer to them,” Remin “You understand that,” Kudorin said, running his fingers through Rini’s

“Yeah, we all want that,” Rini said. “I guess. Some of us are just a little ahead of others,” he added, lowering his gaze. Meeting Kudorin’s eyes again, he asked, “What do the gods look like, really?” “You’ll know, someday,” Kudorin said with a gentle smile. “Everyone knows, someday.” “Yeah,” Rini said hesitantly, “I guess.” Glancing over at the figurines, he said, “As long as they don’t really have giraffe heads, it should be okay.” Bade hadn’t slept well on the balloon, and the bed in his new quarters was the most comfortable thing he’d ever collapsed onto; he slept very well for a few hours. Colors and numbers and harems and confusion invaded his dreams, however, and he wakened with a knot of anxiety in his gut. Escaping the bed’s too-comfortable thrall, he forced himself up and attempted to figure out the bathroom. Nosupolis didn’t have running water, but neighboring Granete did, and Bade had visited that country often enough to have a reliable memory of what to do in a modern bathroom. His problem was, his bathroom didn’t quite seem to work. There weren’t any knobs for any of the faucets. He couldn’t get the sink or the bathtub to work, much less the shower or the toilet. He searched for hidden switches, but found none. Finally, he remembered the hostess’s instructions. Something about a prayer. He’d taken the inscription on the wall for mere decoration, but now, he gave it a closer look. It was a prayer. To the god of the river? Inom anina Edanola na edo. Frowning, Bade read it aloud. He wondered. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land He eyed the faucets. Putting his hand on the faucet of the sink, he recited the first lines of the inscription. Cool water trickled out. “This isn’t happening,” Bade said. The water stopped. He said the words again. A few defiant drops petered out to nothing. “This isn’t happening,” he repeated. Hurrying over to the door, he tried the button that would summon Beneta. She arrived with unexpected quickness, hands clasped at her waist. “Your Highness?” “How do the sinks work?” he asked, trying not to sound suspicious or panicked. “Your Highness, I am terribly sorry,” she said. “I should have explained it to you more thoroughly. This is entirely my fault. Please, allow me to show you,” she said, leading the way to the bathroom. “I understand that the gods of Orina Anoris are not your gods,” she said, looking at him carefully, clearly not meaning to offend him, “but while you are here, they appreciate your respect. A few simple words, Inom anina Edanola na edo, will ensure you a flow of water,” she said. Water poured from the tap. “You see them here,” she gestured to the wall, “so that you need not memorize them.” As she uttered the last line of the inscription, “Anoha Edanola,” the flow stopped. While Bade stared in amazement, she added, “The words to Akanoti are written over the fireplace, should you need to start a fire or light a candle.” Then he wasn’t imagining things, after all. In this instance, that wasn’t entirely reassuring. “Is there anything else that I should know?” he asked. “The prayers for water and fire are all that we require for daily life,” she said. “I apologize, Your Highness, for not providing a more thorough explanation to you earlier. Please forgive me.” “It’s all right,” he said. “Thank you, Beneta.” “Yes, Your Highness,” she said with a bow. “I shall return to escort you to dinner,” she said, and left. Opening his trunk, he found a box of matches. Approaching an innocuous candle on a table in the corner, he struck the match. Nothing. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land Again. Nothing. “Inom anina Akanoti na aka,” he said, this time, and even before he struck the match, fire glowed at the tip. Merely a bit of a flame, it flickered, and as he stared at it in disbelief, it wavered. Testing, wondering, he whispered the words again, and the flame grew brighter. “This isn’t possible,” he insisted, and the flame flared hotly before vanishing in a puff of smoke. “Tell us about our guests,” Kudorin requested, turning his brilliant gaze to Orinakin again. “Oh, yes,” Anosanim said, kicking off his soft-soled shoes and tucking his feet up. “Tell us absolutely everything.” “I’m going to dine with them in an hour, if any of you would like to join us,” Orinakin said. “Oh, I’ll be there,” Rini said. “I wouldn’t miss a meal with them for the world. They’re all hot, but there’s this delicious little Ilaeian and this half-naked Kelan warrior that I could just devour.” “He’s more likely to devour you,” Talin said. Rini licked his lips with an impish grin. “That could be good, too.” “I brought Dillane,” Orinakin said. “You all know him.” “Boring,” Rini said. “Oh, Dillane is so friendly,” Anosanim said warmly. “He just makes everyone feel so at home.” “He’d make a good host,” Selorin said, which had been exactly Orinakin’s thinking. “I brought Dranz,” Orinakin said. “The commander?” Desin asked. “He has some very interesting ideas about how to gain and keep peace,” Orinakin said. “After the war, I met him at the peace council when we hammered out the treaty.” Orinakin had been invited to host the council, as Kudorin’s representative; he’d mediated between the two sides. “He’s devoted to peace now.” “A commander who wants to avoid war,” Talin said. “I like that.” “Peace has always been our goal, for everyone,” Remin said. “It would be good for us to work with him and hear his thoughts.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “He’s torn,” Orinakin said, “between his hopes for a better world and his deep knowledge and experience of wartime and man’s lower, baser nature. He’s hopeful and cynical at the same time.” Kudorin nodded. “He needs healing, but he shall be a powerful ally.” “I brought T’rin, Y’nalin’s son,” Orinakin said. “He has tattoos everywhere,” Rini said. “And all he wears is a loincloth and a vest. You should have seen his thighs, they-” “If you don’t want him, I’ll take him,” Talin told Kudorin. “The Kelan are very highly esteemed among their trading partners,” Orinakin said. “Those who don’t know much about them know only their warrior nature. But they’re one of the oldest nations, with a rich culture and a lot of ancient knowledge. T’rin is so intelligent and so proud, and so skilled and experienced, that-” “You want to have sex with him, too,” Rini said, grinning. “I would like to see what’s under that loincloth,” Orinakin admitted, as Selorin laughed. “Maybe I will come to dinner,” Anosanim murmured thoughtfully. “I brought Aiae, the royal Ilaeian artist,” Orinakin said. “He doesn’t speak Anorian,” he warned them. “Oh, Aiae and I speak all of the same languages,” Rini said. “When my eyes said hello, his eyes said yes.” “Aiae?” Anosanim asked. “Haven’t we heard of him?” he asked Talin. “He does landscapes,” Talin said. “Yes, yes,” Anosanim remembered enthusiastically. “Oh, Kudorin, they’re just beautiful, with such gorgeous colors. His sunsets could just make me cry.” “If you think his sunsets are nice, you should see his mouth,” Rini said. “So red and cute, I could just chew on it.” “I also brought Bade,” Orinakin finished. “The Nosupolin prince.” “The twin,” Kudorin said. “The older one,” Orinakin said. “His hair’s blond and so curly,” Rini said. “He’s hot as hell, but he was trying so hard to be polite, and his ass is unbelievable, it’s like-” “He is cute,” Selorin admitted. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “Cute?” Rini asked. “Get him to bend over and then tell me that he’s just cute.” “I’ve never had sex with anyone with curly hair,” Desin mused. “The Krandian ambassador,” Talin said. “Mmm, no,” Desin said, shaking his head. “He turned out to be married.” “I could have told you that,” Rini said. “Why Bade and not his brother?” Kudorin asked Orinakin. “Bade is more open,” Orinakin said. “They’re very much alike, and I hated to separate them, but there’s something about Bade that pulled on me.” That tended to be how he chose Kudorin’s suitors; he went with his gut, with his instinct, with the sense that there was something special, something unique, within these men. He’d felt that very strongly with Bade. “Dine with them tonight,” Kudorin said. “Orinakin, in the morning, I’d like you, Extra, and Anikira to share breakfast with them. After that, I shall meet with them individually.” “All right.” Orinakin wished that Kudorin would move faster, would take them off of his hands, but it wasn’t his place to rush the pharaoh. “Are you bored with the process?” Remin asked Kudorin. “You used to be more eager to meet your suitors.” “There is something different this time,” Kudorin said. “The timing feels more delicate.” “Why?” Desin asked. Kudorin shook his head. “It isn’t for me to say.” By the time Beneta returned, Bade was beside himself. He’d washed and dressed, wanting to look proper for dinner, but he’d spent most of his time experimenting. He’d tried all of the faucets, all of the candles, the fireplace, the toilet; he’d burned up all of his matches. He’d learned that altering the prayers slightly, throwing in a few extra words, worked just fine - - the gods didn’t seem to mind a little variation - - but the traditional prayers were excellent on their own. The gods may have sensed his interest; they were more generous now, and by the end, flame had fairly leapt before the words left his mouth. While Beneta walked him to dinner, he quizzed her: did everyone use the prayers, peasant and priest and pharaoh alike? Did they work for all foreign guests, or only some? How long had the prayers been in use? Who had come up with the idea? www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land She told him that Anorians had said the prayers for as long as anyone could remember, since before the recorded dynasties. She believed that the gods had instructed the first people in the way of the prayers. All Anorians said them, even the priests and the brothers, even the royal high priest and the pharaoh himself. The brothers were so blessed that their spirits were strong and the water and fire always came easily for them; the high priest and the pharaoh didn’t need to say the prayers, but they always did, out of respect for the gods. There had been a few guests for whom the prayers did not work. Commander Whzurchitz, she quietly added, had chosen not to say the prayers, and his hostess lit his candles and turned on his faucets for him. Dranz refused to say the prayers? “He must have too strong a belief in his own gods,” Bade said. “The commander does not believe in any man’s god,” Beneta said. “Many of those from Grintzadiwtch do not. The same situation arose when their ambassador visited weeks ago.” No gods? How could a man who believed in no gods at all marry a man who claimed to be a god himself? “But your gods are so…immediate,” Bade said. “So powerful. So present. They started the fire for me, and all that I had to do was ask. I’m not even Anorian, and all that I had to do was ask.” Beneta smiled at him, as if proud of him. “Our gods are generous,” she said. “Please enjoy your dinner, Your Highness.” Bowing, she turned and walked away. Left alone in front of an archway, Bade looked around, then decided to go with his most obvious option: he walked into the room. “Your Highness,” a brown-clad servant said, bowing before him. “Please, follow me.” Bade followed the man across a smooth white floor to a large table set on a brightly colored rug. The high-backed chairs of well-polished dark wood stood empty, for the most part, save T’rin near one end and Dillane opposite him. The servant showed Bade to the other end of the table, then bowed and disappeared. “Your Highness,” Dillane said. “It appears that we shall be joined by a few of the pharaoh’s brothers tonight.” Bade had noticed that there were more places set at the table than the few of them would need. Now, looking closer, he saw that, at several of the places, there were golden goblets set with bright stones. Seven goblets, specifically, each with jewels of a different color. Five places had no goblet at all, including his, T’rin’s, Dillane’s, the one directly opposite him, and a spot between him and Dillane, one seat away from each of them. “So it would seem,” he agreed with some enthusiasm. He was eager to meet the brothers now, interested in learning more about them. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land He was seated at the right hand of what he judged to be the head of the table, where the goblet’s stones were as gold as the goblet itself. The priest, then. Directly to his own right, the jewels were blue. Blue would be the judge, Selorin, Orinakin’s twin. Opposite Selorin was an orange-jeweled goblet: the architect, if he remembered correctly. He was somewhat disappointed; he’d hoped to speak directly with Prince Orinakin, with whom he thought he’d feel more comfortable. The servant appeared again, showing Dranz to the seat directly across from Bade. Sitting, he nodded shortly. “Your Highness.” “We may dine with the pharaoh’s brothers tonight,” Bade said. “I’m hungry enough to dine with anyone at all,” Dillane said with a laugh. “Travel always increases my appetite.” “Your Excellency, you’re an ambassador,” Bade said, laughing. “You can imagine my problem,” Dillane said, patting his stomach. Aiae arrived just then, and was seated between Bade and Dillane, one seat away from each. He smiled at them, and nodded. They smiled back. Then, just as the lack of food made Bade’s stomach growl, the brothers walked into the room. They needed no introduction; they could be no one else. In their stunning array of colors, they entered with smiles, bringing with them an infusion of light. Dillane was the first on his feet, and as everybody else stood, Bade rose as well. The tall, slender priest, outfitted in sleek gold robes, walked right up to him. Although the priests in Bade’s own country never lowered themselves before even his father the king, claiming that those who worked for the gods bowed to no man, this royal high priest bowed gracefully to Bade, straightening with a serene smile. “Your Highness.” “Your Highness,” Orinakin said, coming over to them. “Prince Bade of Nosupolis, this is my brother, the royal high priest, Prince Anosatim Inanodat Anoremin A Hiti.” “It is an honor to be a guest in your country,” Bade said. “If you do everyone one at a time, this is going to take forever,” Rini said. His pants were very yellow and very tight and very touchable. He wore nothing above the waist now, and his delicate pink nipples - - Bade found somewhere else to look. “May I?” Orinakin asked Anoremin. “Anyone who marries Kudorin will have to become accustomed to our lapses in formality,” Anoremin said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “All right, then, everyone at once. Prince Bade of Nosupolis,” Orinakin said, gesturing to him. “T’rin, son of the chief Y’nalin of the Kelan. Commander Dranzhicthin Whzurchitz of Grintzadiwtch. Dillane Naelt, Mannillean ambassador. Aiae, royal artist to King Ouia of Ilaeia.” Behind Orinakin’s back, Rini wiggled his fingers at Aiae, who didn’t seem to know how to respond. “Royal high priest Prince Anosatim Inanodat Anoremin A Hiti, called Anoremin,” Orinakin said, gesturing. “You remember Prince Selorin. This is Prince Anosabim Inanodat Ebutadesin A Rituriti, called Ebutadesin. Prince Anosanim Inanodat Hanibulatin A Ritusiri, called Anosanim. Prince Anosadim Inanodat Nisutalin A Lini, called Nisutalin. And you remember Prince Rini.” “Of course,” Dillane said. “Who could forget?” Prince Nisutalin asked. “For official dinners with honored guests, we’re usually much more formal,” Orinakin assured them as everyone took a place at the table. “But, as Anoremin said, if one of you marries our brother, you’ll have to get used to how we act when no one else is looking. If you will forgive us for dropping the formality of titles, perhaps we will all have a better chance of getting to know each other as people and not offices.” As everyone sat, servants swept in, carrying trays of food, bearing heavily filled plates and thick jugs of water and wine. Quickly circling the table, they filled cups and goblets and set down the first course. As the servants discreetly backed away, Bade noticed that Anosanim, seated across the table and one seat over, was gazing at him with interest. Having never seen anyone with orange eyes before, Bade looked back, curious. “I’m sorry for staring,” Anosanim said to him, as conversation began at the other end of the table, “but we don’t often see anyone with curly hair. And it’s such a pretty shade of yellow.” He sounded somewhat captivated. “It’s blond,” Bade said, resisting the urge to reach up and touch it. Dranz glanced at him, then away again, apparently unimpressed. “Blond, of course,” Anosanim said. “Do many people from Nosupolis have curly blond hair?” “Most of us,” Bade said. “It’s so pretty,” Anosanim said with a soft sigh. “Oh, Talin, you should paint him.” “I’ll pose with him,” Rini said with a wink. “If they end up getting married, Kudorin might not appreciate that,” Nisutalin said. Dranz grunted in apparent agreement. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land Somewhat overwhelmed, Bade tried to think of something to say to divert their attention. Fortunately, Selorin intervened. “Orinakin mentioned that you have a twin brother.” “Oh, it must have been so hard to leave him,” Anosanim said with great empathy. “I could never be separated for so long from Nisutalin.” Bade had been so busy staring at the variety of color and clothing that he’d forgotten to look, but, oh. Yes. The high brow, the smooth chin, the graceful nose. They were twins. Their hair had distracted him, Anosanim’s such a bright orange and Nisutalin’s such a rich red, but even more than that, they carried themselves very differently. Anosanim was fluid and effusive; Nisutalin was straight and precise. They seemed like complete opposites, but when Anosanim looked down the table and smiled, and Nisutalin offered him a brief but sincere smile in return, Bade knew it. “A twin is a very lucky thing to have.” Selorin’s blue-eyed gaze, which would have been refreshingly normal if there hadn’t been so very many shades of blue in there, drifted up to Bade’s hair for a moment. “Twins are common in Nosupolis?” “Yes,” Bade said, “they’re everywhere. I suppose that none of you had the fun of fooling people by pretending to be each other,” he guessed. Selorin and Anoremin burst into laughter; Anosanim turned red. “I was young,” he protested. “You were twelve,” Anoremin said, still laughing. “Anosanim and Talin tried to fool us,” Selorin explained. “I wanted to go to his classes, and he wanted to go to mine,” Anosanim said. “I was so fascinated by his lessons, and he’s always loved architecture.” “They dyed their hair,” Selorin said. “They couldn’t change their eyes, but they still tried to get away with it.” “It almost worked,” Anosanim insisted. “It took hours for anyone to notice.” “Everyone noticed right away,” Anoremin said. “We were all just trying to humor you.” “We made fun of them for weeks,” Selorin said. “Especially when the dye wouldn’t wash out and our parents made them shave off their hair and keep it short to teach them a lesson.” “I looked atrocious bald,” Anosanim said. “Absolutely atrocious.” “But they were allowed to adjust their schedules and sit in on each other’s lessons,” Selorin added. “Which was what they’d wanted in the first place.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “And you all think I’m bad,” Rini said. “At least when I dye my hair, I’m smart enough to use colors that I can get rid of.” There was movement at the other end of the table; Orinakin rose gracefully, coming around to the head of the table. “Bade,” he said quietly, placing on hand on the tabletop and on hand on the back of Anoremin’s chair, leaning in discreetly, “you’re so full of eager excitement that you’re making it hard for me to eat. Is there something that you’d like to ask?” “I have dozens of questions,” Bade said quickly. “There’s so much that I need to know. I made water flow simply by speaking.” One of Dranz’s eyebrows went up. “The gods did that,” Anoremin gently corrected him. The other eyebrow rose. “Yes!” Bade exclaimed. “That’s the best part of it! The gods of Orina Anoris are so very different from the gods that we worship in Nosupolis. But they’re also different from any other gods I’ve heard of. I don’t know any other society where people request fire and water from the gods, and depend upon them so immediately for it.” “You do not believe that when you draw water from a well, the gods are the ones who put it there for you to fill your bucket?” Anoremin asked, his gold eyes already knowing the answer. “Yes, of course, but there is a more open and direct relationship with your gods. It seems understood that if you ask, you then receive,” Bade said. He hadn’t noticed until now, but the rapidity with which food disappeared into Anoremin’s mouth was astonishing. “We ask our gods for many things at many times and are not given them.” “We ask our gods in vain, as well,” Anoremin said. “If you ask for the fire to light a match to burn down your neighbor’s home, that fire shall not come to you.” Dranz made a noise that Bade couldn’t interpret. “If I went home to Nosupolis, and put my bucket down a dry well, and prayed for water, water would not come,” Bade said, as a servant stepped forward to refill Anoremin’s plate. “And do you blame the gods for this?” Anoremin asked, somehow eating steadily despite his constant conversation. “Or yourself? What if you tried another well? What if you waited for rain?” Dranz grunted. “Is not rain the answer to your prayers for water? Is not knowing the location of another well the answer?” Bade gazed at him in fascination, then turned to Orinakin. “Do all of the priests here speak this way?” “How do your priests speak?” Orinakin asked. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “Orinakin,” Selorin said, rising, “sit here. I’ll take your place.” “I’m sorry,” Bade said to Orinakin. “I didn’t mean to take you away from your dinner. Please, go and sit down.” He wanted to speak with Orinakin, but he knew that he didn’t have the right to monopolize his time. “It’s fine,” Selorin said with a smile. “Sit,” he instructed Orinakin, taking his plate and goblet up to the head of the table. A servant placed Orinakin’s goblet and plate in Selorin’s vacated spot to Bade’s right, and Orinakin sat with a rustle of robes. “How do your priests speak?” Orinakin asked. “They instruct, but they don’t ask as many questions,” Bade said. “They don’t eat as much, either, I suppose,” Orinakin said with a smile. “The ones who do, tend to be much larger,” Bade said. At that, Dranz almost seemed to smile. Anoremin laughed, reaching for his goblet. “We eat only to sustain ourselves. We ask only to make our listeners think.” “Their thoughts are what led them to you in the first place,” Dranz said. His voice was gruff but his tone was respectfully polite. “What they seek from you is knowledge and understanding, not more questions.” “Questions broaden the mind,” Anoremin said gently with a courteous nod. “It is only by asking that true understanding is gained.” “Then you and Bade should get along very well,” Orinakin said. “I’m sure that we will,” Anoremin said, his utter calm at odds with his once more near-empty plate. “How many gods do you have?” Bade asked. “Ah,” Anoremin said. “There are eighteen gods who have blessed our land and the people within. There is Akanoti, the god of the sun and fire. Odanoru, the god of the moons and stars. Inanodu, the god of health and wellness. Oranomi, the god of death and transition. Esanoto, the god of rain and the weather. Edanola, the god of the river and fish. Matanori, the god of the animals and insects. Ebanosa, god of the harvest and plants. Etanoda, the god of the air and flight. Anona, the god of structure and balance. Tinanosa, the god of fertility and children. Ilanosa, the god of love and friendship. Setanoto, the god of peace and diplomacy. Sutanoka, the god of justice and truth. Itanoka, the god of wisdom and learning. Okanoti, the god of safety and travel. Alanohi, the god of art and poetry. Adanotu, the god of festival and sport.” Bade frowned. “You have no female gods?” He hadn’t heard the word “goddess” once in that entire list. 184 www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

In This Land “We have no female gods,” Anoremin said. “We have no male gods. Our gods have no gender. Our gods are not people,” he explained, “nor are they animals, nor are they a mix of the two. Our gods are…gods,” he said simply, with an expansive gesture. “We do not know their true form.” Dranz’s grunt this time sounded approving. “And that’s why you have symbols for them, but no statues or paintings or carvings,” Bade said. “Yes,” Anoremin said, as the servants cleared away the first course and introduced the second. “That is also why there are no paintings or statues of the pharaoh, either. Not of any generation. We do not depict our gods.” “The pharaoh is all gods,” Bade said. “He is also a god?” “The gods have given him their understanding and power,” Anoremin said. “He is a god.” “But he’s also your older brother,” Bade said. He loved Tiko, but he couldn’t imagine his brother as a god. “Yes,” Anoremin said calmly. “This is delicious,” he told Orinakin, and a servant immediately stepped forward to pile more onto his plate. “Tell Desin that planting closer to the river was a brilliant decision.” Orinakin leaned down the table to impart that information, then turned to Bade. “Stop wondering things and just ask.” “Wondering what?” Bade asked, to see if Orinakin really could read his mind. He certainly seemed able to, and Anoremin’s uncanny tendency not to blink, to gaze at him with utter directness, made him feel looked into more than looked at. “If, the gods forbid it, anything should happen to your older brother, you would take his place in the kingdom,” Orinakin said. “Yes,” Bade admitted. Anoremin nodded. “You wonder if, should anything befall Kudorin, I would take his place.” Kudorin, that was the pharaoh, yes, that word fell towards the end of his name somewhere. “Would you?” “The pharaoh is Anosukinom,” Anoremin said. “Living god among us.” “Yes,” Bade said, “but if he dies with no heir…” “He is a god,” Anoremin said. “Gods do not die.” “He’s also a man,” Bade argued. “Men die.”


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In This Land “You do not believe,” Anoremin said, and his expression didn’t change but his eyes gained focus. Bade could tell that something important was happening, because Anoremin put down his fork. “I do believe,” Bade insisted. “Your gods-” “My brother,” Anoremin said quietly. Bade hesitated. “You have accepted the strength of our gods,” Anoremin said. “Of all but one of them. Why do you leave him out of your acceptance? Because he has a human form? Do not your gods come in the forms of lions and sheep and birds?” “Yes,” Bade said, “but-” “The body of a man with the head of a goat, that you will believe, that you will accept, that you will worship,” Anoremin said. “The body of a man with the head of a man, that you would deny?” “There is no god born of man,” Bade said. “Anosukinom was born of a man and a woman, just as you and all of your brothers were.” “Born of a man and a god,” Anoremin said. “Our mother was pharaoh. Our mother was a god.” “She’s not, now?” Bade asked. “How is anyone a god one day, and not the next? Anosukinom wasn’t born a god, he became a god. Someday, he will be only a man again?” “The gods chose him,” Anoremin said. “Just as they chose our mother, and her mother before her, and her father before her. You would deny the gods their choice? If the gods should choose to bless my mother, my brother, anyone, with their powers and their wisdom and their divinity, who are you to tell them no?” Anoremin’s gaze had remained calm, and his voice had remained quiet, but everyone at the table had stopped to hear every word. When he was finished, the hall was silent. Trapped in that stillness, feeling everyone’s eyes on him, locked into Anoremin’s gaze, Bade was frozen. What could he say? He respected Anoremin, and he was fascinated by Anoremin’s arguments, but he realized that, because of what he’d just said, he could very well be thrown out into the night to find his own way home. He vaguely heard, from the other end of the table, Dillane and Selorin strike up a conversation, attempting to draw the others in. “Ask,” Orinakin said quietly. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land He didn’t want to ask. He couldn’t afford to offend. He couldn’t let down his country and ruin this chance by“Ask,” Orinakin said firmly. Resisting, Bade said to Anoremin, “I apologize. I meant no offense. The ways of your land and your gods are foreign to me, but I intended no disrespect. I would be honored to meet Anosukinom.” “He will be interested to meet you,” Anoremin said. “Kudorin has great curiosity about the men who would leave their lives, their homes, their families, and their countries behind to consider marriage to him.” “We have great curiosity about him, as well,” Bade admitted. “It must be a difficult thing,” Anosanim said, “to come such a long way for someone you’ve never met.” “It would be the highest honor to wed Anosukinom.” “If you all will excuse the rude interruption,” Orinakin said softly, “I would like to speak with Prince Bade in the next room.” “Try to come back before the next course,” Anoremin said. “I am told that they will serve a new sweet jorgan glaze.” “We’ll make every effort,” Orinakin said, rising. “Your Highness?” Feeling like he was twelve years old again and about to be scolded by one of his tutors, Bade excused himself and followed Orinakin from the dining hall. He knew that the others were too polite to stare, but it still felt as though their eyes were on him. Why was Orinakin pulling him aside? He never should have asked those questions, he never should have argued with Anoremin, he - - what had he been thinking, picking a fight with the royal high priest?! He was about to be sent home in shame and disgrace. How could he explain to his father, to Tiko, that he’d ruined all of chances“Stop that!” Startled, Bade met Orinakin’s eyes. He’d been brought to a small, comfortable sitting room, expensively decorated with very fine things. This room had no open archways, only two doors, both of which were closed. “Stop what?” “No one’s going to send you home! Remin isn’t offended, he understands that all of this is new to you. He’s protective because there are only two things more important to Remin than food and sex, and those things are gods and his family, and since Kudorin happens to be both a god and his older brother, he - - what?!” “You’re upset,” Bade said. “I’ve never seen you angry before.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “I’m not angry,” Orinakin said firmly. “I’m aggravated.” “I’m sorry,” Bade said sincerely. “I shouldn’t have-” “Yes, you should have. I want you to. Say what you want to say. Ask what you want to ask. I love your candor, Bade, I love how sincere you are, it’s a refreshingly charming trait, I wish that I knew more people like you. And the more you wonder and don’t ask, the more questions burn in the back of your brain, the louder your curiosity is, until I can almost hear your questions in my own mind, and I don’t need your thoughts in my head. I have plenty of my own.” Bade’s eyes widened; then he frowned. “You can-” “Yes, I can hear you,” Orinakin said, rubbing at his temple and briefly wincing. “I’m used to sensing people’s needs and wants and interests, it’s a godgiven blessing that allows me to be much better at my job than I would be normally, but I’ve never met anyone I can feel so clearly and hear so loudly. You’re so noisy, I can almost pick up individual thoughts.” “You really can read my mind,” Bade said. “I knew it!” “I’m not supposed to be able to,” Orinakin argued. “I’m supposed to get vague impressions, half-formed ideas, a general sense of things, not clear words and sentences. And the more worked up you get, the more I get this chattering in my head.” “I’m sorry,” Bade said. “I’m not trying to annoy you. But your country amazes me. I always knew that Orina Anoris meant ‘land of the gods,’ but I didn’t take it literally. And you said a lot of things, you told me about being born with a god-given destiny and all of that, but I didn’t really believe any of it until I made water flow just by praying. And they’re not even my gods!” “Ask me what you want to ask me,” Orinakin said firmly. If Orinakin already knew his thoughts, was there any reason to withhold his questions? “Your gods are so immediate and so powerful, how could a simple man convince everyone that he’s a god, too? How does he do it? Who is he, really? Do the pharaohs pass down a secret among themselves that’s some sort of key to fooling the people? What secrets do you all share to continue the deception? Or is it not a deception at all? Is it real? Is that possible? Am I a crazy fool for doubting anything, in a country where words bring water?” “You aren’t going to believe in Kudorin until you meet him, and you aren’t going to meet him until tomorrow afternoon,” Orinakin said. “Until you meet him and resolve all of these questions and doubts, either you’re going to have to learn how to think much more calmly and quietly, or I’m going to have to figure out how to turn down the volume.” Bade didn’t want to suggest it, but, “We could avoid each other.” www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “We can’t,” Orinakin said. “I have a job to do, and at the moment, you’re it.” Sighing, he sat on one of the low couches; Bade sat on the nearby chair. “I don’t understand this,” Orinakin said, closing his eyes and leaning back. “I’ve never had this problem before. Riturihi never mentioned it, either. Maybe it’s just a sign that my skills are growing stronger. Maybe it’ll begin to happen with everyone, and I’ll have to get used to it.” “I don’t mean to cause you pain,” Bade said quietly. “It doesn’t hurt,” Orinakin said, opening his eyes. “It’s mainly disorienting. And I’m sorry for yelling at you. It’s not your fault. It was just so unexpected.” “It must be strange,” he admitted. “But it would help in international negotiations, at those councils and summits, if you could read minds, wouldn’t it? You would know which people were lying, what they’re really holding out for, what their secret motivations are.” “I’ll speak with Riturihi,” he said. “And Kudorin.” He studied Bade more closely. “We should rejoin the others for dinner. It would help me if you’d blurt out whatever’s on your mind, because when you hold your tongue, it drives me a little bit crazy.” out.”

“All right. As long as you don’t hold me responsible for whatever comes A brief smile. “Agreed.”

“You look tired,” Bade said, since the thought occurred to him. “And you have a beautiful smile.” “Thank you,” Orinakin said. “I think that all of these months away and all of the travel have caught up with me. It will be nice to fall asleep in my own bed.” “Your hair really is purple, isn’t it?” Bade asked quietly. “The gods really have blessed you. Something powerful really is happening in this country. It isn’t just rumor and legend. There’s something special here.” “It isn’t something that can be explained,” Orinakin said. “I can tell you about it until I grow hoarse, but you won’t believe it until you see it for yourself and touch it for yourself and truly experience it. T’rin was right, some things simply need to be felt to be believed and accepted.” He stood. “Come back to dinner.” “And if I say anything terribly embarrassing or offensive, you’ll defend me?” Bade asked, rising. “I can’t go home.” “You want nothing more than to go home,” Orinakin said. www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land “I can’t go home,” Bade insisted. “This is the most important opportunity of my lifetime, this is the best chance Nosupolis has had in too many years, I can’t-” “All right, all right, I-” “It’s not all right,” Bade protested. “You live here where everything’s bright and everyone’s happy and your gods give you water and over half of the food you produce, you export simply because you don’t need it. Our people are tired, tired of working too hard for not enough, tired of praying to gods who don’t listen, tired of paying priests who don’t care, tired of having a king who can’t help them. I can help them! This is my chance! I can’t go home!” Orinakin stared at him. “Why didn’t your father tell me any of this?” “Because he’s tired, too,” Bade snapped. “How long was your aunt the diplomat?” “Thirty-four years,” Orinakin said, frowning. “My father met with her three times,” Bade said. “Two of those times were in Granete.” Orinakin looked surprised. “She was only in Nosupolis once?” “She was there more often than her uncle was.” The expression on Orinakin’s face was, briefly, angry, but not at Bade. Shaking his head, though, he said, “It’s a large world. There are countries in worse conditions than yours. There have been droughts, there have been-” “I know about the droughts, I know about the plagues, I know about the poor nations. Our people have clothes on their backs, and most of them find something to put on their plates. For many years, our kings have turned to their neighbors for help, have tried to get the attention of stronger powers, but to no avail. So they’ve stopped. But Tiko wants to try again. Tiko wants to trade, wants to-” “Trade what?” Orinakin asked. “Our blacksmiths can create anything, and their work is much more detailed than what we’ve seen in our neighboring countries,” Bade said. “We have a great deal of natural wool, more than enough to trade, and after so many centuries, our looms can spin a great variety of yarns, clothing, blankets, and I don’t know what else. And we’d trade the sheep themselves, if anyone wanted them.” Orinakin stared at him. “You have sheep?” he demanded. “You have sheep?! Don’t you know how many people need those sheep right now? How many people would keep them, breed them, eat them, milk them, wear their www.MatthewHaldemanTime.com

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In This Land wool, and be able to live a much improved life? And you’re keeping them because no one asked you for them?” “My father offered! But whose ear does he have anymore besides that of the king of Granete, who’s sick of herding our sheep off of his border? You see everything, you go everywhere, you speak to everyone, you know who has a need for what much better than we do.” “Why didn’t anyone else ever mention this?” Orinakin demanded. “To Riturihi, to Niti, to anyone?” “It wasn’t always the case,” Bade said. “We didn’t have as many sheep before as we do now, but when he was eleven, Tiko convinced my father to try to increase the number, and my father didn’t want to naysay my brother’s grand plans, so the shepherds have been growing their flocks ever since. Tiko says that as soon as we begin to export and gain a little money, we can do even more.” “Why didn’t Tiko tell me any of this?” “He’s not king yet. He won’t ask you for help if my father chooses not to. Now that the diplomat of Orina Anoris is finally paying us some attention, my father is too proud to ask for help on his first visit.” Bade looked closely into Orinakin’s eyes. “You came to us once. Then you returned, to bring me here. Were you ever going to come back?” Orinakin hesitated. “Nosupolis wasn’t a priority.” Bade nodded. “Well, it is for me.” www.matthewhaldemantime.com/inthisland.html


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Thanks!

Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed it. Please visit MatthewHaldemanTime.com for more gay erotica. You’ll find many more short stories, a novel, and “In This Land,” my ongoing series, updated weekly. If you liked this free e-book, please support me by donating through PayPal to [email protected]. Even a few dollars helps. It’s through the generosity of readers like you that I can offer fiction for free.



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