Author's Note:
NaNoWriMo is over, and I finished with almost 56,000 words to this story, which is still going strong and in totally unexpected directions.
Some of the upcoming scenes get rather descriptive about private moments. I'm not sure yet whether I will share these as-is,or adapt. Revising and posting may slow down a little,as I move on to other projects and more home repairs.
Koss' chamber was small, with only space for the raised sleeping platform with a mat neatly rolled upon it, an alcove with two small shelves, where books, a simple clay water service, and a statue of Surak resided, two hooks which held traditional robes that appeared to carry Koss' family sigil, and a low table which held a single meditation candle and an open box containing an ignition device. The walls were the simple, natural redstone of the cave, but there was an opening above, and one in the wall beside the sleeping platform, and Kov could see that T'Khut was now visible in a thin but swiftly growing wedge.
"Please, be at ease, Kov. If you will, you may think of this chamber as equally your own." Koss went to the shelf and took up the pitcher without comment. In a space so small, there would be little way for him to do so without Kov seeing what he was about, but in not mentioning it, he honored the intent of the ceremony, if not the precise form.
Kov would therefore make no mention of it, that Koss could prepare as he would. The tingling warmth was spreading into his shoulders now, and he wondered how much longer he must wait before the time came when they might begin to learn together where it might carry them.
Koss stepped through the opening beside the sleeping platform – it was nominally large enough to allow him to do this if he bent low.
Kov was left alone in the intimacy of another's sleeping chamber. He had been invited to be at his ease.
But how could he be, when he quivered so for the touch of another? When he was certain that this night would bring a knowledge there could be no turning away from?
His gaze scanned the space. The candle was unlit, and he had a desire to see Koss' face lit by firelight. He knelt and tended to the matter. Perhaps he should meditate, to attempt again to ease this trembling hunger for Koss' touch. But the shelf with its small assortment of books drew him; he would learn what Koss chose in his reading material. Perhaps that would answer some of the questions he had about the man. He would not be able to do so when Koss returned, for the water service was there, and already in direct sight of the meditation area where he planned to await their exploration of touch.
Kov touched the books lightly with paired fingers and eyes closed, illogically enjoying the knowledge that Koss had touched these same volumes, held them in his hands, perhaps even drawn wisdom or peace from them. Only when he had touched each in this manner did he pull one from the shelf and hold it in his own hands.
He opened his eyes. It was too shadowed to read, so he carried the book to the meditation area and settled upon the floor there. But he didn't open the volume. Koss had invited him to be at his ease and to treat this space as his own – but to read from the other man's book seemed an intimacy too deep even for this openness. He would ask Koss when the other returned. It might serve also to provide the time needed to return the pitcher to its place and complete what was needful in the preparations for the ceremony Kov assumed would lead to the promised touch.
He placed the book on the table before him, to make it apparent to Koss that he would not open it without permission, that he would not violate the other's privacy.
His gaze went to the sleeping platform. There was no second mat, and the space was limited. He wondered if Koss would bring a second mat, or if another chamber had been secured for Kov's use.
Perhaps he intended for them to share this single mat. What would it be, to sleep so near to another? To breathe the same air, and to have Koss' scent filling his lungs throughout the night?
It was too much to imagine.
Kov stared instead into the candle, seeking the peace of meditation there. But it eluded him as it had earlier, at the water sculpture. The tingling was spreading now from shoulders and into his chest, seeming to radiate outward and intensify with each breath. Koss' scent was layered through this chamber in a manner that suggested he came here often and remained for some time.
The breeze shifted, blowing in through the opening Koss had stepped through with the pitcher. It carried a faint but fresh trace of Koss' scent – Koss, and fresh, cold water which contained minerals. Perhaps, another time, Kov might have made an exercise of attempting to identify them, but now the scent of the other man made focusing on any other – even the scent of water – impossible. He opened his mouth slightly to allow the scent to come to his tongue, where he could taste it.
He longed for Koss with an intensity and urgency that outweighed even the natural drive to locate and secure water sources necessary for life on this harsh and arid world.
Perhaps this drive for another man was proof that Kov had developed some imbalance that affected his mind or his physiology. Perhaps he should leave here at once and seek the services of a healer trained in such disordered thinking, and the means of restoring a proper structure.
But he could not do so while T'Khut was full and gaining visibility. Perhaps there was a healer in residence or visiting this location; to provide such a service was logical. However, he could make no assumptions of the logic of those who would come to such a place at such a time.
There was no logic whatever in thinking mistruths to himself. Even if there were a healer in every other chamber in this compound, Kov would not seek out their assistance. No. He would remain here, and taste Koss' scent as it gained strength upon his tongue, and he would learn what it was to touch the other man, to join their fingers. Perhaps, to sleep together beneath T'Khut's reddened light, with the Watcher to bear witness to whatever they shared.
These were things he wanted with an intensity he would never have predicted, when he rose from his own sleeping platform this meridian.
If it was a form of sickness or imbalance, let him be so. Kaaidth. What is, is.
The scent grew so powerful that all other thought was subsumed. Kov shook, and waited.
Koss appeared at the opening, and Kov's breath left him so swiftly that it extinguished the candle. He gasped air into emptied lungs, and Koss was part of the air he breathed, and so now a part of him.
It was untenable, this yearning, this filling. Kov could no longer look at the other; he closed his eyes once again, but he could not cease breathing so easily.
"Kov…." A whisper barely perceptible over the sound of the breeze, but one notable for the longing it held.
But what was this thing that they longed for? Was the thing that Koss desired the same character as his own unknown longing, or of a different nature?
Kov could not answer. No sound but a low moaning breath would escape him.
What would happen next?
"It is illogical to question that which will soon enough be evident." Again Sivet's voice in his memory or his mind. But Kov cared not. What could Sivet know of a moment such as this, a longing such as this?
There was no further comment from Koss, only the soft sound of his desert boots crossing the few steps from opening to shelves, and the water pitcher being replaced upon the service tray.
He would remain as he was, with his eyes closed, to allow Koss the needed privacy. But his body tensed, insistent. It longed for the promised touch, and it was more difficult than it had been since he was a child to hold the stillness of meditation.
His mind, and the quivering which was radiating through his torso, would not be stilled by any means he knew.
The feel of movement, and Koss' scent so near Kov could no longer resist the need to move. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes opening, and there was Koss, preparing to reignite the candle, but watching Kov out of eyes that glowed in T'Khut's strengthening light.
He was most aesthetically pleasing, and the way his tongue seemed to taste the air as Kov himself had done brought a stronger shudder. It passed first through him, then through Koss.
Kov didn't understand any of this, but concern faded. Kaiidth. What is, is.
He looked past Koss' shoulder, to where the water service sat in its spot. He would delay no further; the waiting had drawn on far too long, already. "Will you share water with me, Koss, and speak to what is within your soul?"
It was not precisely the form of the ceremonial acceptance of what had been offered, but he had never been offered the water service in this fashion, or with this intent. Perhaps it was acceptable to vary the ritual to fit this sharing.
If Koss was troubled by it, he made no sign of it. "I have longed to share – water – with you, Kov, since the first breath in which your scent came to me, and spoke of things I can't begin to understand, but feel I must learn."
Kov rose and moved to the shelf. He was uncertain he could pour without committing the unpardonable offense of spilling water, but if this was the means by which Koss wished to initiate the sharing between them, he would do nothing to argue it. He would therefore prepare as well as he was able, and pour with the greatest care he was capable of, though he had never been invited to the ceremony before.
He drew three breaths, filled with Koss' scent, already more known to him than any other, and then took the tray carefully, and brought it back to the table, to find that Koss was holding the book he had placed upon it. But he could say nothing to it now, as it was to Koss to speak first to the matter that had precipitated his presenting of the water service.
"I offer this water, and the sharing of it, as an intention of peaceful sharing between us." Kov lifted the pitcher and poured with the utmost care. To his relief, he did not spill. He returned to his former location, though he wanted to be nearer to Koss, to breath in the scent that had come to mean so much to him, so swiftly.
"I accept your offering of water, and the intention of peaceful sharing between us." Koss reached to the tray, but rather than take the bowl closest to him, he placed his hands upon the one nearest Kov, and those hands trembled.
Kov watched. If he extended his hand now, he could touch the other. The impulse to do so was nearly enough to overwhelm his control, but he held. He would learn the manner Koss wished for this sharing, before he imposed his own longings upon it.
Koss lifted the bowl but didn't drink. Kov took the bowl on Koss' side of the tray, and lifted it to the same level.
Their gaze met, and, slowly, without any need for speaking to it, they lifted the bowls in unison, and drank a small amount of the mineral-traced, life-sustaining water. The awareness between them deepened; it was nearly more than Kov could bear. Now he knew that Koss was also struggling to maintain control.
Together, wonderingly, they placed the bowls back where they had taken them from, and, in the process, their sleeves brushed against one another, and they both gasped, extinguishing the candle once again, and leaving them in the redglow of light from T'Khut.
"I wish to share with you, Kov. I wish to open myself to you. My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts." There was a pause. Kov waited; he could feel the weight of whatever it was that Koss wanted, but he lacked the understanding to give a proper response. After ten breaths, Koss said, "You don't know what it is that I am asking, do you?"
"I do not." Kov wondered at the emotion evident for a moment upon Koss' face.
"Then, if you will permit me, I desire to be the one to reveal a new form of touch to you. But it is imperative that you truly be willing, for, if you are not, the chances that you might sustain harm are far too great. I would not choose to cause you any harm, Kov." The architect's voice was lower, now, and there was a friction in it there hadn't been, until now.
"Will you tell me more of it?" Kov's quivering had reached to his hips. There was something in it that was … he had no name to give the emotion it engendered, but the sensation that had grown so worrisome was now … pleasant. He wished to explore whatever form of touching Koss would choose to share with him, here beneath T'Khut's light, and within these secure rock walls.
"I will speak on it, Kov. But let us first complete the water ritual together, and the touch we came to explore. I would share much more with you. However, it need not all happen on this night. There is a certain agreeableness to prolonging certain desired outcomes, to build the anticipation and readiness for them. Or so I have long thought, though I find I wish less to prolong any such desires where you are involved." He stopped abruptly, and finished with, "I ask forgiveness. It was too much to say, and far too soon for you. You haven't had the six days I have had to build your longing within you."
"I have found twelve hours to be more than sufficient for the purpose, Koss. There is no need for forgiveness. I share your impatience, illogical as that might be." He gazed directly into the blue eyes of the man seated across from him. In most places on this world, it would be a breach of privacy to share such an intimacy, but had he and Koss not come to this place to share such closeness as they could discover between them? "Let us finish the ceremony and learn where it will lead us."
He reached for the drinking bowl he had used previously, but Koss spoke, very softly. "Kroykah, Kov."
Kov paused with his hands nearly to the bowl and raised a brow to his companion.
"I will take the bowl closest to me, if you will permit it. In this manner, we can touch – before we touch, in a sense."
There was something about it that made Kov think of the line from his Promising to T'Sia. "Never and always touching and touched." But he didn't speak on it to Kov – they had spoken of their Promiseds earlier in the day, and he didn't want to be reminded of the young woman now.
This was a time to share with Koss, and no other. In that thought was his decision made. "It will be as you wish, Koss. Let us then touch – before we touch."
He adjusted to take up the drinking bowl nearest him, and Koss did the same. Again the lifting in unison, the sipping – except that Koss turned the bowl in his hands, and placed his lips in the precise location where Kov's had been.
There was something in that action which escalated the quivering to a tremor, and Kov was again concerned that he would spill the water before he could drink. And yet, he turned the bowl clumsily, allowing his awareness to feel for the place where Koss' lips had rested upon this bowl's edge.
He knew the place when a fresh tingle touched his mouth, promising something vastly different from what had been arranged and set in motion by the priestess who had overseen his Promising to T'Sia.
Kov knew not what it was, only that he wanted to learn. It was possible that he needed to learn, in the same way he needed air to breath.
Certainly, there was no logic in that.
But he looked into Koss' direct eyes, and it seemed there was a new logic in this, of a kind he had never suspected existed.
There was nothing else to be said, and so they sipped, set the bowls down, lifted the one the other had held, placed their lips to the same place the other's had rested, again and again. The sensations were layered, awareness upon awareness. Of self, of other, of a place where perhaps there was neither self nor other, but only the sharing between them.