Imposition Read online

  He rubbed his temple and tried to concentrate, zoning out their laughter and background noise. He glanced up momentarily and noticed who was sitting pretty much opposite him, three tables down the mess. Gen glared across the space, secretly hoping he would look up at that moment and see. Therse was on his own, fingers of one hand running lightly over the compact screen by his side on the table top, forking the occasional mouthful with the other.

  He was always alone at mealtimes. Gen had seen him sit beside people, but never with them. He always had his screen, so that if no one talked to him it didn't really matter.

  Gen supposed he should feel pity, but couldn't bring himself to. It was the man's own fault he sat alone, after all. No one ever wanted much to do with him.

  * * * *

  Gen sat by himself in the officers’ mess of the Terminal Regret, inspecting the hoard he'd taken from the biohabitat's garden. He rubbed his thumb over a carrot, brushing some of the dirt off it and onto the tabletop. Even for a carrot, it was impressively straight and orange. He took it in both hands and bent it gently until it snapped, inspecting the center and the lighter-orange circle inside. He bit into it, despite the grit, just a little nibble to taste. It was sweet and crunchy. He brushed off a bit more dirt from the half he planned to eat and put the other half in one of the small bowls he'd fetched. He'd wash that later.

  A couple of potatoes, some beans, tomatoes and berries followed it. He counted up the strawberries. Seven. He'd been a bit overloaded by the time he'd reached the strawberry plants and not been able to carry that many. He added four of them into the bowl, but made sure they were the smallest ones.

  Therse liked them more than he did anyway.

  Everything else went into the other, empty bowl.

  He ate the rest of his carrot half and thought about what Meitou had been saying earlier. He'd made it sound like there was something he needed to ask Therse, something he didn't want to ask because he'd have to answer to the same thing. What question? He frowned down at the assorted fruit and vegetables in front of him as though they might have a suggestion.

  He wasn't in denial about anything, that much he knew. Fuck what some non-ranked Imperial thought about him. How the hell was he to know Therse was gay? He'd kept it well enough hidden. Gen had never even seen him so much as look at another guy when they'd been together.

  He was still pissed about it though, and to his mind being pissed was a perfectly reasonable response. He'd thought they were pretty close, but Therse had kept a huge secret from him and now it felt like everything between them was underwritten by a lie. Well, perhaps not a lie as such, just...an extra film of truth he hadn't been aware of before.

  He sighed at the produce and wondered whether Therse had accepted that invitation to Command yet.

  * * * *

  Therse gripped the palm-clasps tightly and pressed his body back into the fighter's suspension harness, drawing in a deep breath and forcing his body to relax. He was heading up a small squadron of twenty-or-so Light Assault Modules on a mission to scope out a suspected rebel base inside the Torinn system, towards the outer limits of Inhabited Space. He'd ordered the ships of his squad to spread apart around him, linking every vessel to create a sub-space tracker network. Now they were just waiting, like a predatory insect lurking on the surface tension of a still pond, feeling for ripples, poised and ready to strike.

  The Torinn system was famous for the vast ring-world Vatula, a planet enormous even by gas giant standards. That swirling blue-green mass loomed silently off to Therse's side. He watched it for a while, wondering how well its violent storms of gas would be rendered if he got up close to them. Perhaps the planet would pixelate, or perhaps he'd simply find himself dropped back to the position he'd been at when the mission simulation started.

  There was a problem. Fighters started to drop off his map, one by one, without warning. Something was killing his men, working from the outside flanks in, and he hadn't the first clue what was doing it.

  “Fuck,” he said, fingers flicking fast over the fighter's projected menus, scanning the data from the emergency signal bursts the dead craft had sent before they'd exploded.

  Another one gone, and he was no closer to the answer. Perhaps there was an unseen pocket of gases or something else situational he wasn't seeing. “All ships move to mapped vector heading.” He marked a point a few tens of kilometers out from their current location.

  Then a door opened as though from within Vatula, spilling a bright light across space itself, and through it appeared a disgruntled-looking Gen.

  “Hey,” Gen said, gruffly.

  Therse just stared over at him at first, Gen strangely rendered through the projections of the visor he was wearing. Looking at real-world things while still being absorbed into the module was what Therse imagined waking dreams to be like.

  “Hey,” he replied, mustering a half-smile. But he was glad to see Gen again.

  “When was the last time you ate?” Gen said, walking forward a little so that he was essentially standing on top of one of Therse's simulated squad. It exploded beneath his feet.

  “I don't know, yesterday?” Therse shrugged as much as was possible in the harness, then motioned around with his hand. “I'm kind of in the middle of something.”

  “Just pause it and come get something to eat.” They looked at one another for a long moment. Therse could tell Gen wasn't going to take no for an answer.

  “I'll be there in a sec, just give me chance to change out of this,” he sighed.

  A discrete smile flickered across Gen's Officially Pissed expression. “I'll be waiting for you in the mess hall,” he called back, leaving the door to the module wide open so Therse wouldn't lose himself in the sim again.

  Therse desorbed and shut the sim down, and the harness released him. The interface was made through a number of small plugs that attached magnetically to the module's harness, conveying his biosignatures to the machine and allowing for sensations to be electrically generated in his own body, just like in a real fighter.

  The only impracticality about the suits was their impossible tightness. They weren't constricting, more like a second skin that was incredibly difficult to get in and out of. Therse decided he couldn't be bothered to change out of it, and would follow his stomach straight to lunch.

  As he emerged from the module he noticed Meitou wandering around, peering into one of the other sim modules parked in the bay.

  “Not seen one of these before?” he called, and started towards him. Meitou looked over at him.

  “I've seen something similar,” Meitou shouted back, moving to meet him. He looked Therse from head to toe, and raised an eyebrow. “I'm interested to see how they work,”

  “I'd show you, but...”

  “Somewhere you need to be?”

  Therse considered this. “Nah,” he said, waving a gloved hand. “It'll only take a minute, and I'm still dressed for it after all.”

  He showed Meitou inside the nearest module, the dark ovuloid space humming to life as Therse strapped himself once more into the rigid harness, various plugs and pitted sensor clasps on his suit making snapping noises as they clipped into place, linking man and machine.

  Meitou was standing right beside him, looking around. The start-up screen appeared and

  bathed them in a soothing blue light.

  “Don't you have this sort of thing on your side?”

  “Sort of, but they're a bit more sophisticated. And the process is eventually irreversible.”

  “Oh.”

  “What now?” Meitou asked, looking over at the forward screen where it was awaiting a prompt from Therse.

  “Well, now I'd normally absorb and run a full sim, a battle, test my tactics —”

  “Sounds interesting. Show me?”

  “Well, I've only just run one, so...”

  “Hmm, all right, just absorb then.” Meitou smiled at him. “I want to see what happens.”

  Therse felt himself blush under
that gaze. Each time it was like he'd forgotten precisely how attracted he was to Meitou. “Not that much, the screen goes funny colors and I sort of drift off a bit.”

  “But you're still in sensory contact with the real world?”

  “Yeah. Look, I'll just do it quickly.”

  He began the process, pressing his consciousness to that of the module's AI—the AI wasn't intelligent as such, but it was aware enough to respond to him. Bands of rich color washed over the module's screens; a slow, swirling psychedelic mixture of all shades of the spectrum, some bands larger than others, expanding and contracting as they sped up or slowed down.

  Therse was feeling a little heated, having Meitou so close. He cleared his throat. “That's all there is to it really at this stage. This is the only level of the consciousness molding that produces anything like this, anyway.” He was trying to look over at Meitou as he spoke, but the harness prevented him.

  “You ever wondered what the colors mean?” Meitou said, with the hint of a smile.

  “Not really, I just thought they were random. They don't usually last long until the sim starts up.” He thought about it for a second, wishing he could see the man's face. “Do they mean something?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “I didn't say I knew,”

  “Oh.”

  Therse felt a contact against his nipple, teasing him through the suit.

  “H-hey, what are you doing?”

  “You have any idea how good you look in that?”

  “It's just a suit—”

  “Vacuum-fitted sensory modulator. Vacuum. Fitted. Seriously leaves nothing to the imagination. Even if I was straight, I'd probably still want to fuck you in that,” Meitou said, tracing a fingertip up Therse's neck to beneath his chin, tilting his head back.

  “Well, thanks.”

  “This is your own suit, right?” He slid that finger beneath the suit's collar, pulling it away from Therse's skin.

  “Yeah,”

  “Wear it often?” he said, letting it snap back.

  “Usually only when I need to.”

  Meitou stood in front of Therse, face to face, his lips close and smiling. “Ever wear it when you don't need to?”

  “I don't get what you're driving at.”

  “Sure you do.” Meitou looked him over appreciatively. “Wearing something like that, such a specific piece of kit, designed only to be worn when interfacing with a ship, something so tight and revealing that most people would feel uncomfortable sporting it outside the environment it was intended for...wanting someone to notice you?”

  “No.”

  Meitou's nose slid up against his, hands gliding over his waist. “I'm never wrong, Therse,” he whispered. “Bad habit of mine.”

  “I'm desorbing.” Therse said.

  “Don't even think about it,” Meitou told him with a smirk, grabbing the struts his arms were fastened to and locking them to the harness above his head.

  “Hey...!”

  “That coy act is tired, Therse. It doesn't suit you at all, so drop it.” Meitou bit hard on his bottom lip. Hard enough to leave a mark, and making Therse groan and writhe in the constricting harness. Even if he'd wanted to escape what Meitou had planned, he couldn't. The struts held his arms fast and he was locked into the apparatus until he desorbed from the module interface. It was a convenient excuse.

  It was odd, being aroused with his consciousness pressed to an AI's awareness. It could see everything he was feeling, but didn't understand the meaning. It made him more detached from reality, a little less withheld and reluctant.

  “I...I can't stand it how easily you unravel me...” Therse whispered as Meitou's hands ran over him. The projected visor showed him his vital readings, the quickening of his heart rate, the increase of blood pressure in his groin, the heightened sensitivity of his neuromuscular system in that region. It was embarrassing to see his own arousal displayed so clearly as the module waited patiently for him to select a battle sim.

  He could feel Meitou's hands everywhere, pressing firm against his body through the tight, thin fabric of his suit, running downwards to his groin with patiently seductive determination. He felt his body flex without his intention, trying to encourage those hands and make them slip down faster. Meitou's lips touched his, planting deep, soft, slow kisses that drove him wild.

  There was a shift in his position, as though he was being tilted backwards. It was very disorientating. He felt as though he should protest, tell Meitou to let him up, to stop taking advantage, but the part of him that wanted this to stop spoke only in a very weak and unconvincing voice, right at the heart of him. It complained that he needed his control back, that being restrained and powerless wasn't right, that bad things would happen like they had before. He settled for a resistant, obstinate attitude towards the proceedings and willed Meitou to just get on with it already by kissing him back forcefully.

  Meitou kissed him deeper, grinding up against him as his hand finally reached Therse's groin. Therse moaned and spread his thighs as far as he was able in the tight grip of the harness, the kneading actions of Meitou's palm making him hard as hell. The breath was deep and ragged through his lips as Meitou's tongue dragged along his jaw and into his ear.

  He felt Meitou move and opened his eyes, trying his hardest to make out the man's actions through the confusion of the visor, and realized he was being straddled. His body ached for Meitou's lips again and he hissed when they returned, as Meitou bit down on him through the suit, flexed over him and rubbed along him, making Therse wish so badly to be free of the harness and able to grab him, able to tear the clothes from his body and push inside him. He tilted his hips against the pressure, meeting Meitou's groin as he thrust down. It was almost intolerably frustrating to be able to do nothing more than lie there and take it.

  But it was plain to see, from his vitals and from the base actions of his body, overcome with want, that this was arousing him no end. Something that undoubtedly hadn't escaped the notice of the cold, tactical genius writhing above him.

  Therse felt Meitou's tongue along his lips and opened his mouth, desperate for penetration. Meitou pulled away at first, teasing him until he moaned openly, then kissing him deep, hands up into Therse's hair as he dragged his hard body back and forth.

  It was almost like they were fucking just as it was, that same movement, same rhythm of two people working as one, and the friction through the suit was certainly enough to see the end of Therse given time. He could already feel the first wisps of explosive pleasure pooling at his groin. He wanted to grip Meitou's hips as they thrust against him, but he was powerless to do so.

  Meitou lay hot above him. Therse was looking right at him but couldn't see him properly through the visor, heightening his other senses. Therse shuddered, beginning to lose it already. Meitou brought his lips down again, touching them lightly to Therse's. From what Therse could make out, Meitou seemed to be very interested in the color transition of the bands on the module's interface.

  Therse finally got what he wanted as Meitou's hand reached past the groin of his suit and took hold of his tight, dripping cock, pulling it out as he reached for his own, working them both together.

  Then he sat up and away, and Therse was left wanting. He tried to lift his head to see, tried to make out what was happening in the room beyond the visor, but the only thing he could sense was the sudden sweet smell to the air. The fragrant scent of lubricant set his heart racing.

  He felt his cock handled again, Meitou indulging in a few luxurious strokes before the cooling touch of lube, only a fingertip on his glans and not nearly enough to satisfy his want. He flexed in the harness, demanding attention. Then he realized something was off. The lubricant felt different; even though there was no longer any contact with his erection the sensation was deeper and gathering, growing to something unspeakably, breathtakingly pleasurable.

  Meitou's hand stroked up the inside of his thigh as he tried to contain his gasps
.

  “You might have noticed this isn't your average lubricant,” he heard Meitou tell him. “It's a rather special concoction I use very sparingly, so feel honored. It's expensive as hell.”

  “What...what is...”

  “Feels good, doesn't it?”

  “Uhuh...nh..”

  “Contains a compound that activates your pressure sensors without you actually having to be touched. Ironically, it was first developed as a torture aid to simulate horrific injury. Watered down though, it feels fucking fantastic.”

  Meitou's hand covered him in it, pushing down on him slick and hard, and suddenly it was unbearably good. He was so tight it was sore, as though he might burst. He heard the sounds of undressing through his addled, interfaced mind, and felt a peak of arousal as naked skin settled against him, as Meitou's warmth and weight returned to him and began to push down over him, taking him whole.

  Therse could see him, if he focused hard enough. Could make out his strained expression painted with pleasure. The glorious sensations at his groin and the fact that his mind was spread out, swimming in the module's interface, made him less restrained. “You're the hottest guy I've ever...fuck...” he managed, as Meitou was finally all the way down, so tight around him Therse gasped.

  Meitou gripped the harness behind Therse's shoulder where it was rigid and used it as leverage as he began thrusting down onto him, gathering pace, flicking his hips as he moved. Therse watched him, speechless with the feeling of it, biting his lip to hold in the cacophony of noise that was bound to fall out of his mouth if he unlocked it.

  Meitou wasn't having any of his resistance, and thrust a thumb into his mouth to open his jaw. “No one can hear you, you needn't be so restrained.” He could feel the tingling of lube on his tongue, and licked against Meitou's thumb, taking him by surprise a little. Therse gave in and moaned around it, flexing his hips to meet Meitou's thrusts as much as he could.