Lois Bujold - Captain Vorpatril's alliance

“Ah.” He smiled beatifically, and closed in for a kiss.

It was a good kiss, quite as good as her dream or better. She snaked her fingers up between them to deal with his first button. The flattering uniform seemed to have rather a lot of them. For the first time, his hand strayed below her shoulders, in a tentative, reverent touch; good, he wasn’t going to be grabby.

“So what happened when you were fifteen?” she asked, during their next break for air. “Was it a positive experience?”

This surprised a laugh from him, and a look of fond reminiscence. “I was a desperately randy adolescent—almost any experience would have seemed positive, but yes, I guess it was. She was one of the girl grooms at my great-uncle’s stables down at the long lake, a summer fling at a summer place, pretty damned idyllic, really. I thought I seduced her, but in retrospect, I realize she seduced me. Older woman, y’know—she was nineteen. Dear God, but I was a clumsy young lout. But fortunately, or maybe it was mercifully, she didn’t trample on my young ego. Though she would probably have had to gallop one of the dressage horses across it to make a dent, I was so chuffed with myself.”

Tej laughed at his laughter, pleased for his covertly tender former self.

A finger ran lightly over her cheekbone, tracing its curves. He started to speak, shook his head, but then, as if he could not help himself, asked, “And you? I hope you weren’t afflicted with a clumsy and self-absorbed young lout.”

“By no means. The Baronne wanted to make sure we knew what we were about—me and my siblings and the Jewels. So she imported an eminent team of licensed practical sexuality therapists from the Betan Orb for us, for erotic arts training. A man, a woman, and a hermaphrodite. They stayed two years—I was so sorry when they went back home. It was the only thing I was ever better at than my sisters.”

The hand stopped. He made a weird little noise down in his throat that she was completely unable to interpret. “I’ve never been to the Orb,” he said at last, in a faraway voice. “My cousin Miles has been there, though he won’t talk about it. Mark and Kareen have been there. Hell, even Commodore Kou and Madame Drou have been there…”

“Well, I’ve never been there, either,” she said. “Except by proxy, I suppose. But I did like the arts. They meshed well with my perception drills. It was like dance, in a way. For a little while, you live in your body, in the now, not all up in your head, all torn between the past and the future and missing the moment.”

That gentle hint brought him back to the now; the hand began to move again.

“I had two allowed suitors after that,” she went on. “But they didn’t work out. There’s another fortunately-in-retrospect for you.”

“Allowed suitors? I don’t know what—is that a Jacksonian term?”

“You don’t have allowed suitors on Barrayar?” she asked. He shook his head. She couldn’t say she was surprised, merely surprised at his ignorance. “It’s for when one is considering some sort of House alliance by marriage. Try before you buy, and I’m glad I did. The first was plainly far more interested in House politics than in me. When I told him that in that case maybe he should go to bed with my father, instead, he wasn’t too pleased. And nor was I. The other…I don’t know. There was nothing wrong with him, I just didn’t like the way he smelled.”

“Did he…not bathe?” Ivan Xav’s arm made an abortive jerk, as if he thought, but then thought better, of trying to sniff his own armpit.

“No, he was perfectly hygienic. Just not, I don’t know…compatible. The Baronne suggested later that maybe our immune systems were too similar, but that didn’t seem quite right to me. I thought he was just boring.”

“Oh,” said Ivan Xav.

She took the opportunity of his distraction to unwrap his shirt a few more buttons. Ah, nice chest hair. Not too much, not too little, a fine masculine dusting. The dark color made a pleasing aesthetic contrast with his pale skin, and she made sure to savor it. One should notice one’s partner’s gifts, and let them know one was pleased, or so her erotic arts training had emphasized. She curled a bit of hair over her finger, in signal of appreciation, and danced her fingertips down his torso.

The bunk room door slid open partway, and he flinched at the slight noise. Rish’s voice floated out. “Shower’s yours. I’m going to sleep now, so close both doors between when you’re done, eh?” The door slid shut, firmly.

“Rish has very sensitive hearing,” said Tej, “but she sleeps like a brick.”

“Ah,” said Ivan Xav, faintly. “Well. It’s been a long day, perhaps I’d better hit the lav—uh, unless you’d like first crack?”

“Or we could share the shower…” Her fingers twirled some more.

He shook his head in regret. “Not this one. It’s only a sonic, and two people wouldn’t fit.” He brightened. “But when we get back to my place in Vorbarr Sultana, I know that, um…another time?”

They should have taken advantage of the amenities back in his Solstice flat, but how were they to have known? Timing. The best chances of life all ran afoul of timing.

He kissed her again, then peeled himself away, lips last.

When they rendezvoused again in the bed, most of the unwrapping was already done, to Tej’s mild regret, but perhaps there would be other occasions. She slid between the sheets he had warmed. Clean sheets, she noticed in appreciation, a thoughtful touch from the busy bâtman, at a guess. Ivan Xav rolled over, and up on one elbow, his hand hovering uncertainly over her, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

She smiled up at him. “Are you shy , Ivan Xav?”

“No!” he denied indignantly. “It’s just…I’ve never made love to a wife, before. I mean, to my wife. A wife of my own. Not having had one. I don’t know how a few words in a groat circle can make what should be familiar feel very strange all of a sudden. Power of suggestion or something.”

She rolled up on her own elbow, to free a hand to reach his face, trace the bones beneath the skin. Good bones. Her body shifted with the motion, and then he wasn’t looking deep into her eyes anymore, but he was looking, pupils wide and black. Noticing gifts with due reverence needn’t always take the form of speech, she was reminded.

“I always kept it light, y’know?” he gasped.

“I can do light,” she said, leaning in. “My name means light.”

He leaned to meet her. “So…so illuminate me,” he breathed, and then there was much less talking.

The admiral’s bâtman brought breakfast on a trolley—not intending it to be indolently consumed in bed, Ivan suspected, but rather to make sure Ivan was out of his in a timely fashion. The military servant knocked politely on both bedroom doors and set up the meal in the sitting room, effacing himself promptly as soon, Ivan also suspected, as he’d ascertained who had slept with whom last night, the better to report that intelligence back to their mutual boss. Desplains had very obviously left it up to Ivan and his guests to sort themselves out, but he had to be curious as to the results.

Ivan felt…chipper, he decided, was a good word. Remarkably chipper. He put himself together in immaculate military order, waved to Rish, who was blearily sucking tea, kissed his wife goodbye—make that, his beautiful bed-rumpled exquisitely edible wife , who, to cap his enchantment, did not appear to be chatty in the mornings—and chippered off to work, approximately twelve steps down the corridor to Desplains’s on-board office, adjoining the ship’s compact tactics room.