Chapter Three

The tape was unexpected.

Theo had always pictured rope when he imagined this particular scenario. And considerably less in the way of clothing.

He pulled against the tape binding his arms to the chair, twisting his wrist in a thoughtless effort to fidget.

Sitting still and being quiet were not amongst Theo’s strengths. Or even amongst his capabilities, to be brutally honest about the matter.

Jun’s lips twitched as Theo jerked against the tape again. A shadow of a smile crossed his face like an errant cloud.

Well, at least one of them was enjoying themselves.

Theo kicked his feet against the base of his chair, delighting as Jun’s shoulders tensed at the noise. He kicked harder. “It might interest you to know”—he raised his voice to be heard over the boisterous clank of his spats hitting the dented metal—“that while you are certainly not the first to threaten to adhere me to my chair, you are the first to actually follow through.”

Jun smirked, just a little, the lines beside his mouth deepening on one side with a glint of amusement. He said nothing in response, only continued to adjust the flight controls by tiny increments. Theo could not help but notice it did nothing to correct the wobble.

Theo shook a tangled lock of hair out of his eyes and tugged his wrists against the tape with the compulsion to tuck it behind his ear. “Oddly enough, most people grow irritated with me in a surprisingly short amount of time.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Jun muttered.

Theo sparked with joy, biting his lip against a happy curve. While he was fully capable and willing to carry the entire weight of a conversation, he derived much more satisfaction from eliciting a response. “Right? I think the problem is that people are never open to experiencing refreshing—”

Jun cut him off with a scowl as he swiveled his seat to grace Theo with the full-frontal view of his tightly crossed arms, which caused the thin leather straps of his holster to cut into the muscle of his shoulders.

The open vee of his worn-thin shirt fell away to one side, revealing the tantalizing curve of his strong chest and a continuation of the designs flowing down his neck.

Theo had to drag his gaze away to focus on his face as Jun spoke.

“No. I find it difficult to believe”—his deep voice rumbled through Theo until he felt as wobbly as the ship—“that there is any amount of time in which people do not find you irritating.”

Theo deflated, sagging back into his chair. His feet shuffled to an awkward stop against the floor. “Oh.”

The lock of hair fell back into his eyes, but Theo couldn’t muster up the will to blow it away again. He tucked his chin to study the bony knobs of his knees outlined by the fine brown velvet of his trousers.

Yet another social interaction up in flames due to his inability to be quiet. Why had he ever thought Jun might be willing to put up with him?

There was something about the thrill of being wanted, the idea that this unknown, handsome man had actually sought out Theo of his own volition. It made Theo lose his already tenuous grip on good sense.

He tossed his head halfheartedly, the lock of hair stubbornly clinging to the crest of his cheek beneath his left eye. Theo sighed and closed his eyes in defeat, hands falling limp in their binding.

The unexpected brush of tattooed fingers across his forehead sang through his senses like an aria, the lock of hair tucked neatly behind his ear.

He peeked up at Jun to find him determinedly turned away, profile blank as his hand lowered back to his crossed arms and folded tightly beneath as if to keep it in place.

Theo couldn’t contain his smile; a happy glow started across his forehead and ran down his body like warm water. He leaned closer, the new angle bending his wrists uncomfortably. “I don’t suppose it would make a difference if I asked you nicely to let me go?”

Jun swiveled farther away, arms still crossed as he pondered the dash as though it had recently punched him in the face.

Theo marveled at Jun’s ability to sit in silence as the minutes ticked away—until Theo’s fidgeting began to grow necessary. He cleared his throat, noticing Jun’s jaw clench while he refused to acknowledge him.

Theo jiggled his legs, pressing his knees together tightly. There was a screw loose somewhere in his seat that rattled with the movement. Jun’s eyes shot over to him, face forbidding.

Theo jiggled more insistently. “Presuming that you intend to keep me captive for any significant amount of time, is there any way you could release the tape? I have a need of the facilities, and I’m afraid matters may grow somewhat urgent in the very near future.”

Theo turned his attention to the tangled mess of exposed wiring hanging out of an open panel just above the floor. “The last thing you want is a flood in the cockpit.”

Jun’s gaze dropped to his crotch for a split second, then moved on to the tape with a thoughtful frown.

Theo was thankful the urgency of his full bladder prevented any noticeable movement in the area. Any further attention from Jun was likely to have resulted in an uprising in the lower ranks, if one wanted to be coy about it. “In your own time, of course, but quite quickly please.”

Jun didn’t move except to swivel his chair once more, scrutinizing Theo closely. Theo tried to convey his urgency, to glorious success if the alarmed expression on Jun’s face was anything to go by.

As he reached into his trouser pocket, Jun lifted his hips in order to fit his hand inside the tight fabric. Theo’s teeth caught his lower lip at the motion, holding back a sound that would have been, at best, unfortunate.

Jun retrieved a knife and flicked it open in a practiced motion that had Theo’s blood racing for all the wrong reasons. That really should not have been as attractive as it was.

He stood and approached Theo’s chair, knife held out at his side as if Theo might yet break the bindings and lunge for it. Theo found his caution surprisingly flattering.

Jun stopped in front of his chair, knife at the ready. “If I remove the tape, will you stop pressing buttons?”

Reluctant to prevaricate, Theo seesawed his head. He tried to make his eyes as big and pleading as possible, holding them open to achieve a watery effect.

Jun sighed, his free hand pinching the low bridge of his nose in a move Theo had watched his brother perform countless times. And his father. And his academic advisor. And his housekeeper, come to think of it.

“Will you promise not to press random buttons that might kill us?”

Theo nodded in what he hoped was a trustworthy manner as Jun squinted at him doubtfully. “I promise to do my level best.” The button hadn’t even done anything particularly interesting, as far as he could tell. Not so much as an activated light on the dash.

Jun’s reaction had been more interesting by far. It had been worth pushing any number of buttons just to have his undivided attention.

Jun appeared to hold little faith in Theo’s best efforts, huffing out a muttered curse as he braced Theo’s wrist, knife still held away from them.

He went still, eyes locking on Theo’s. “If I tell you not to do something”—his voice low with command—“you will listen. I am the captain, and my orders must be obeyed.”

Oh.

Well, that was interesting. Theo was learning something new about himself every day. Today, he learned that all it took was a commanding voice and a pair of beautiful dark eyes, and his internal organs could be rendered entirely liquid.

Fascinating, if inconvenient.

Jun didn’t move, unblinkingly trained on Theo’s face as he struggled to nod, having somehow lost all control of his neck muscles.

With his finger hooked under the binding, keeping it between the blade and Theo’s skin, Jun cut through the thick utility tape.

The other wrist took even less time. Theo worked it free and shook the feeling of idleness from his fingers while Jun tore the remaining tape from the arms of the chair. Strips of plastic upholstery came off with the tape, the damage merely adding to the patina of wear along the uneven surface.

Theo examined his jacket cuff to find that the tape had marred the velvet, pulling delicate fibers free of the weave in chunks. He rubbed his wrist as he clambered to his feet, grateful that Jun had refrained from putting the harsh adhesive directly on his bare skin. “I suppose I should consider myself fortunate you decided not to gag me after all.”

They were standing far too close to each other, crowded together between the chairs. Jun studied him with an intensity that had Theo squirming in place, heat curling low in his abdomen.

“Not yet,” Jun said, catching and keeping Theo’s gaze. He then turned and walked out of the cockpit.

Theo stood frozen in place until his body reminded him of his priorities, and he rushed to follow. Jun led him through a narrow corridor to an open doorway, which he gestured to with a sharp slash of his hand.

“The head’s through there. I’ll wait outside.”

Theo took advantage of the facilities, astonished to find them spotless if a little cramped. He stepped back out under Jun’s watchful glare. The captain had remained standing at attention just where Theo had left him.

Theo’s mother would approve of his posture, if nothing else. He’d wager Jun could sit still and straight-backed in her parlor for absolute ages. Unlike Theo, whose record for sitting still had just been broken by a judicious application of tape.

Jun didn’t move except to point back into the room with his chin.

“What?” Theo asked, glancing over his shoulder in bewilderment. He’d definitely washed his hands and could not imagine what else he might have missed.

Jun repeated the motion with his chin, jaw set. “There’s the bed. It’s late. Go to sleep.”

Theo surveyed the small chamber, almost entirely taken up by a single thin mattress set into a metal platform. This appeared to be the only habitable room besides the cockpit. As far as he could tell, the rest of the ship was composed of storage rooms stuffed to the gills with large metal crates. Which led to a pertinent question.

“Where will you sleep?”

Jun’s gaze slid from Theo down to the bed and back, a frown settling onto his face like it was getting cozy before the fire, comfortable and familiar there. “Doesn’t matter.”

He leaned back against the wall and hit the light panel, sending them into the dark of the night cycle, the cabin now lit only by the soft glow of the emergency lights lining the hallway.

In the deepened shadows, Jun’s cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut oneself on.

Theo would certainly enjoy trying anyway.

A blanket—a soft pile of well-worn material—lay draped across the foot of the bed. Of an indeterminate gray color, and clearly homemade in an uneven open knit, it gave the cold, dark room a softening flair of personalization.

Theo picked it up, rubbed the chunky yarn between his fingers.

It smelled faintly of leather and ozone and clean man. The same fragrance that had burned itself into Theo’s mind when those tattooed fingers had pressed over his mouth.

It smelled like Jun.

Theo stifled the impulse to bury his face in the blanket and roll around on the mattress like a pig in mud. That would likely be frowned upon.

He perched on the edge of the mattress, smoothing the blanket as he swung his feet. “This is your bed, isn’t it?”

Jun shifted against the wall and slid down to sit with one leg stretched out in front of him, the other bent at the knee. The light from the hallway caught his face just enough for Theo to know he was being observed.

Curling his legs under himself, Theo leaned on one wrist while he wrapped the other hand around his ankle. Ari would have been horrified to see him put his shoes on the bed. He held back a private grin at the small taste of rebellion. “Not much of a conversationalist, are you? That’s alright; neither is my brother. I’ve learned to adapt so that I can talk enough for the both of us.”

Jun didn’t say anything, but his boot scuffed against the floor. Theo took that as confirmation that he should continue.

“Where are we going? Will we get there by morning? Do you suppose we’ll have time to stop for coffee? Ari likes to fuss about caffeine, but I’ve never noticed much of a difference. It doesn’t seem to have an effect on me, but I like the ritual of it in the mornings. Are you a morning person? I adore a nice crisp sunrise more than anything except perhaps a good book. Do you have any books in your crates? There are so many on your ship. If it were my ship, most of them would have books inside.”

Jun’s head hit the wall behind him with a thunk, eyelids squeezing shut as he pressed one hand to his forehead. “Tell me you do not talk in your sleep.”

Theo considered, stretching his neck as he leaned further back against the bed. “I’m not entirely sure. I’ve never had complaints from Ari, but then again, he sleeps like a petrified log. I’m not sure he would have noticed even if I managed a song and dance in my sleep.”

Jun’s head raised up at the word “he.” His eyes traced over Theo’s face before turning to stare at the wall, his hand rolled into a fist on top of his bent knee. “Shut your mouth and go to sleep.”

Theo sat up with a thoughtful hum and crossed his legs into a pretzel. “No, thank you. I’m not particularly tired. It has been a rather exciting evening; I am far too wound up for sleep, I’m afraid.”

Jun groaned softly, sending Theo’s brain spiraling straight into the gutter. “Just lie down and be quiet.”

Theo sat quietly for a moment, and then two, and he made it all the way to three before he had to move. He started by humming and ended with clapping his hands against his folded knees and singing a bawdy Verge shanty about a widow and her pair of ducks.

Jun sat up from the wall, jaw tight and shoulders tense. “Stop that.”

Theo sang louder, bouncing against the mattress just a little, in time with the melody, delighting in having gained Jun’s full attention.

Jun pushed to stand with a growl, baring his teeth. Something low in Theo’s belly quivered at the sight. “Stop singing. Go to sleep.”

Theo started the first verse over again gleefully as Jun stomped closer with such single-minded determination that he tripped against the edge of the mattress just as he reached out his hand to cover Theo’s mouth.

They fell together in a tangled heap, Theo’s second verse breaking off under Jun’s rough fingers.

Jun’s hand was hard against his lips as he pinned him to the bed with a forearm across his collarbone and a muscled thigh over his hips.

Theo froze, ice running through his veins.

When this had happened before, it had been thrilling, adventurous. This felt different. Simply by virtue of being horizontal upon a bed.

The darker implications could no longer be ignored.

Jun’s hips shifted minutely, an unmistakable hard line pressing against Theo’s thigh, and Theo slammed his eyes shut, breathing noisily against Jun’s fingers as he started to tremble.

Rearing back, Jun fell off of the bed in his haste to release him.

Theo covered his own mouth against the awful sobbing noises erupting from his chest, fingertips numb with shock.

As Jun jumped to his feet, he shook his head over and over again, eyes wide on Theo’s tear-stained face. “No. I wouldn’t. I would never.”

Theo curled into a ball, crying harder at the sound of his voice, deep and harsh and overloud in the tiny chamber.

Jun’s footsteps were heavy as he backed out of the room. He left the door open behind him, and Theo could hear him pacing in the narrow hallway.

He buried his face in the blanket, then kicked it away as the scent of Jun flooded his senses.

The familiar sense that he’d made an error in judgement settled all around him.

Theo wanted Ari here to talk things through. To help make sense of things. To lend a shoulder to cry on like he always did.

He needed his twin.

A horrible thought pushed to the forefront of his mind—that Theo wasn’t going to see his brother. Not today. Not tomorrow. Possibly not ever again.

Perhaps another, more forward-thinking person would have considered this right away, but Theo was not that person.

Theo had been equipped at birth with an external impulse-control unit named Aristotle. “Considering the consequences” had always been Ari’s job. Theo had been more than happy to outsource those thoughts. He preferred to focus on other things. Ari kept him from making mistakes like this, usually.

He had never been so far away from him before.

Whatever was he going to do?