Jonathan’s fingers trailed up Galen’s leg, over his hip and ribs, up to his shoulder and down his arm to his wrist. Then back again. Over and over. “Are you falling asleep?” he asked.

“Mm.” Galen couldn’t believe he was tired. But the bed was soft and warm, and Jonathan’s light, repetitive stroking was doing nothing to help.

“Selfish of me to want you to stay awake. Sleep if you want to.”

Galen forced his eyes open. “I don’t want to. I want to make love with you.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened, then he glanced away. “I want to look at you this time.”

“Yeah, so do I.” Jonathan had read his mind yet again. He buried his fingers in Jonathan’s hair and tugged him up for a kiss, long and deep.

Still kissing him, Jonathan moved to lie on top of him, gently rubbing their bodies together. Galen broke away to gasp as their hardening cocks made contact, but Jonathan quickly claimed his mouth again. Jonathan’s kisses continued while he prepared Galen, sliding thick, lube-coated fingers into him, twisting and probing until Galen swore in impatience.

“I don’t want it to hurt,” Jonathan protested.

“It won’t, just… damn it!” Galen squirmed, unable to decide whether to arch up into Jonathan’s body or push back on his fingers.

Jonathan finally pulled his fingers away and moved Galen’s legs. He held Galen in his arms as he slid in slowly; Galen luxuriated in the sensation of being slowly stretched and filled, a delight he had missed during their earlier frantic couplings.

“Jonathan,” Galen whispered. “Say my name. You never have.”

A gentle smile spread over Jonathan’s lips. “Galen,” he breathed.

“Again.”

“Galen.” Jonathan pressed forward to kiss Galen’s mouth. “Don’t make me leave tonight. I want to stay. I want to fall asleep with you. I feel… ”

“You feel…?” Galen surprised himself by wanting to know.

Jonathan smiled, that self-deprecating blush rising in his cheeks. “I don’t know how to say it. I don’t have the words.”

Galen kissed him back. “Then show me.”

Jonathan moved languidly inside him. His warm lips found new places to kiss on Galen’s skin, nipping and sucking at the most sensitive places. Galen rode the gentle, sighing waves of pleasure until Jonathan finally tensed and began to thrust in earnest. Galen opened his eyes and the sight of Jonathan on the brink of orgasm brought it tumbling down on him, too.

Afterward, Jonathan lay beside Galen, both of them drifting toward sleep. One of Jonthan’s arms draped over Galen’s waist, and Galen refused to dwell on how much he liked it. “Jonathan,” he ventured. “How old are you?”

Jonathan’s arm shifted. “Nineteen,” he mumbled.

Galen forced himself not to tense at that answer, the answer that betrayed the years missing from his memory. He reached over and ran his fingers through Jonathan’s hair, concentrating on it to make himself calm down: soft and silky, slightly damp at the forehead, highlighted gold in the lamplight. “Was it awful,” he finally said, his voice soft, “losing your leg?”

Beneath Galen’s hand, Jonathan shook his head. “Hardly felt it,” he replied. “Clean cut. Later, it --”

Jonathan shot upright, fear and confusion in his eyes. He searched Galen’s face as if seeking reassurance there. “I have both my legs,” he said, barely above a whisper. “How do I remember losing one of them? What… what did you…? Why did you ask me that?”

He rose onto his knees and gripped Galen’s shoulders, his hands suddenly hard and vise-like. Galen could feel the steel in them, now.

He didn’t like the look on Jonathan’s face. He was clearly terrified, cornered by his own conflicting memories. “Your father made a mistake. Jonathan was dying; he didn’t have the time or the technology to edit the input. He had to download everything, including the accident. But he forgot to alter your body to fit your memories.”

“My father…” Jonathan grated out the words. “My father… told me to protect myself. He told me no one could ever find out what I was.” His hands slid up from Galen’s shoulders to close around his throat, mercilessly tight. “He told me that if anyone ever did…”

Galen knew he should be afraid right now. He should fear the metal construct beneath Jonathan’s soft skin, fear the soulless programming behind his haunted eyes. But he wasn’t afraid, not at all, even as his chest began to ache from lack of oxygen.

Jonathan sighed, his breath shaky. He pulled his hands away from Galen, and closed his eyes. “I can’t,” he whispered. “Not you, Galen. I disobeyed my father. I – I feel…”

Galen reached up, cradled Jonathan’s jaw with his hand. “You feel…?”

Suddenly, Jonathan’s face relaxed, smoothing over into blankness. His eyes opened and he stared straight ahead, without focus. When he spoke, Jonathan’s voice was pleasant, neutral.

“Malfunction.” The blue-gray eyes flicked back and forth as if reading invisible print. “Unable to resolve fundamental programming directive with contradictory input.”

His gaze moved to Galen, where he stared without recognition. “Malfunction. Unable to resolve. Deletion command required.” He fell silent, waiting.

Galen sighed. “Do you have a standby mode?”

“Yes.”

“Then stand by until further command.”

Jonathan moved into a prone position on the bed, his legs straight, his arms by his sides. His eyes slid shut. Galen watched him for a long time, fascinated by the rise and fall of Jonathan’s chest. In the right light, he could even see the flutter of a pulse at his throat.

He was so close…

Lifting his mobile from the nightstand, he started to speak Lee’s name into the receiver, then stopped. When he breathed in, the skin of his hand smelled like Jonathan’s soap.

He got up and put on a robe. In the kitchen, he poured himself a shot of whiskey, drank it, and poured another. Only then did he activate his mobile again. “Lee, it’s me. I need a containment squad at my place. No, no hurry.”

***

“Jonathan, end standby mode. Resume normal operation.”

Galen counted to twenty before Jonathan’s eyes opened. “Standby mode ended.”

Galen glanced at Scooter, steeling himself to his task, then spoke the command. “Delete all input after March 7, 3010.” Four days ago, just long enough for Jonathan to forget the contradictory input. Long enough to forget what Galen knew.

“Processing.” Jonathan’s eyes closed for a long time.

When they opened, he looked straight at Galen. Then he saw where he was. “Galen? Why are we in evidence storage?”

Galen touched his face, turned it so that Jonathan could see only him and not the force field of his storage cage. “It’s okay, Jonathan. It’s going to be okay.”

He closed his fist around the object in his hand and leaned in close, so that only Jonathan could hear his whisper. “I won’t make you leave. We’ll fall asleep together.”

Jonathan smiled, and the tension drained from his body. “Thank you.”

He was still smiling when Galen attached the EMP isolator to the back of his head.