Ganymede Station Pt. 01

Deacon moved to the small bedroom. "Clothes first?"

"Yeah, okay." I said dismally as I followed him.

I began going through the small closet near the bed, tossing all of my clothes into the large box that Deacon held. I made certain that my two extra warming jackets and heated blanket were accounted for. Just then I remembered my sketchbook and pencils and tucked them into the side of the container.

"What's that?" Deacon asked.

"Just, it's nothing, just something I do when I'm bored." I replied quickly.

We moved to the washroom where I grabbed my toothbrush, shampoo, bodywash, supplement bottles and a couple other items.

"Anything in the kitchen?" The marshall asked.

I poked around the kitchen, grabbing the couple plates, cups and utensils I owned, careful to avoid the broken glass of the bowl I had thrown. "Just these." I answered, tossing them into the box.

Deacon looked down into the container he held. "This really everything?"

I dropped my gaze. There were other things I could grab but they were mostly junk anyway, I didn't care if our neighbors looted them.

"Yep, my life barely half fills a moving box." I responded, feeling uncomfortable, judged.

"It's not your life, kid, it's just some stuff." The man responded. "Let's head back up and find some space for it."

We returned to Deacon's apartment and he went back to his chair, clicking his wallscreen on and expanding it before he plopped down.

"Should I unpack?" I asked cautiously. "It might be simpler if I keep everything in the box."

"Up to you." He called from where he was reclining. "Probably easier to keep it in the box. No point in getting our socks all mixed up or whatever. Plus I don't think you'd want me accidentally using your toothbrush, leaving moustache hairs in it." He chuckled to himself.

I pushed the container out of the way against the wall under the kitchen counter near the front door. I glanced around the small apartment, a strange mirror of my own, not really sure what to do now that I was here.

Deacon caught me looking around and motioned for me to take a seat on his couch.

"There's not much to do in here. I was just gonna watch some shows, have a drink or two." He lifted a bottle with amber liquid sloshing around inside. "Want any?"

I shook my head and gave a weak smile. "No thanks."

"Suit yourself." He said taking a drink. He nodded toward the screen beside the couch. "I like these dumb, dramatic reality shows. They're mostly garbage, I can't get enough. You want to watch something else?"

"No, that's fine. I can just play something on my smartscreen if I need to anyway." I said as I took a seat in the middle of the couch.

"Good, I sort of wanted to see tonight's episode. This lady has been dating this one guy and the other guy's about to find out. It's gonna be ridiculous. I'm excited."

I gave a short laugh as I regarded the large man. He must be in his forties, I decided, based on all the grey around his temples and some flecking in his black moustache as well. He was in good shape, thick with muscles, although his beer belly was sizable. The eyepatch and facial scar notwithstanding, he wasn't ugly, just unfortunate maybe. I would have thought a man of his age would just watch the news or something more... educational? My father always had. It seemed silly to watch such frivolous stuff.

We sat for hours watching trainwreck after trainwreck of uncomfortable, fabricated human relationships fall apart and get cobbled back together. Without any prompting, Deacon filled me in on storylines and who each character was and what they wanted. I couldn't say that I cared at all, but it was pretty funny to hear him laugh. He made some instant cakes and added some hot sauce for dinner. He offered me a beer which I accepted. I played around on my personal device for a while when I couldn't handle the reality programs any more. Deacon still watched and laughed sometimes but was otherwise pretty quiet. He seemed to be in a good mood and once I began to feel a little more comfortable in his company I will admit that my own disposition had greatly improved over the course of the day too.

When Deacon began yawning I glanced over at him.

"Yeah, I think it's about time to sleep." He commented lazily. "I usually just crash out here in my chair with the screen on. I'll wake up later and move to the sofa, so that means you get the bed." He said.

My eyebrows furrowed. "Come on, I'm not taking your bed. I'm fine on the couch, seriously."

Deacon gave me a frown. "I wasn't kidding, I sleep out here, have for years. You must have noticed the blanket and pillows. You're sleeping in the bed."

"If that's really the case, I guess..." My voice trailed off, it still felt unlikely.

"Well, good night then, Cheyne. Might be fun having a roommate for a little bit, huh?" He asked. There was a hint of eagerness in his voice.

"Yeah, maybe. Anyway, I appreciate you letting me crash here, really." I replied earnestly.

"Think nothing of it, I miss having someone around sometimes." He gave me a slight smile.

I nodded, thinking about his words. I moved into the marshall's room and sat down on the edge of the bed. It felt awkward being here. Don't get me wrong, I had spent plenty of time on strange men's beds before but this was different. There was no sex implied here, I didn't really understand what was expected of me. Deacon was just being kind, accommodating, and I should try to do the same. Ultimately, I got the feeling he had been lonely for a long time. In truth, I guess we both had been. I lay down and pulled the covers up over my body. I kept the heating jacket on, I wasn't sure how cold he kept his place at night. I couldn't smell Deacon on the bed, he really didn't sleep in here it seemed. Again I went to sleep completely ignorant about what the next day would bring. But at least, for the first time I had the knowledge that maybe, even after the surprising events of the day, I might have made a friend.

CHAPTER 4.

My body stretched of its own accord as I slowly woke and rolled up into a sitting position. I was forced to squint my eyes tightly closed. Light streamed in from buzzing neon signs outside the window, illuminating the small bedroom in harsh yellow light. I shielded my eyes as I looked out the nearby glass. At first there was a wave of confusion while I tried to understand why the blanket over my window had disappeared and there was now a view of a street outside. Then I remembered the one-eyed lawman and the events of yesterday. I glanced around the room, feeling out of place. The holographic display on my device said it was just after seven in the morning, apparently the same time that the large blinding sign outside flickered to life. I rolled onto my side, facing the door, keeping my eyes shut tight. Light still seemed to permeate my eyelids and now that I had been rudely awakened, I wasn't sure if I could get back to sleep.

I lifted the covers and climbed off the squeaky bed. My feet touched down onto a pile of the marshall's dirty clothes. This wasn't my apartment, I didn't really know what to do with myself. What was Deacon's morning like? I didn't want to get in his way. I decided it would be best to ask him and pushed open the bedroom door into the common area. I had expected to find him awake, but instead he was lying on the couch snoring softly. He had shed his boots, jacket and pants and was now wearing only his eyepatch, a t-shirt and briefs. Over part of one arm was a tattoo of some kind of bird. Deacon had the same body type of many of the space truckers I took to bed, and I couldn't help but look him over. It occurred to me that if he awoke, he wouldn't want to find me creepily staring at him so I decided to take a shower instead.

I quietly rummaged around in my box of belongings near the front door until I found my bathroom supplies and carried them with me into the washroom. It was weird to take a shower in the morning, but I had been preoccupied last night and forgotten. I suspected there would be more allowances to make as I became accustomed to sharing this small living space. I hoped it wouldn't be for very long.

When the water warmed I stepped into the stall and pulled the small curtain across behind me. I cleaned my dark violet hair and soaped my taut body. The heat of the water felt fantastic and actually lasted, even the pressure was better than in my shower downstairs. I brushed my teeth while I bathed and scrubbed myself from the tops of my ears down to my tail. When I emerged I felt like a new man. I found a towel that was mostly dry, patted myself down and wrapped it around my waist.

As I stepped into the main room of Deacon's place I noticed the marshall had awoken and was now sitting on the edge of his couch, tucking his pillow and blanket to one side. He appeared to have a new glass already poured sitting on the table next to him.

"Oh hey, morning." He said groggily. "You get up pretty early, huh?"

I moved over to my box to find some clothes for the day. "Yeah, I guess. More that sign shining light into my face. Couldn't really stay asleep." I muttered.

"Damn, sorry kid. I didn't really think about that." He mentioned as he gave his balls a scratch through the light grey fabric of his underwear. I watched him carefully. He was lifting his glass to take a drink, I think the scratching had been unconscious and not purposefully trying to draw my attention there. I looked away before I could spring an erection.

"Shower was good though." I commented. "It heats up faster than mine and you actually have some decent pressure. I uh, didn't think to bring any towels up, I hope you don't mind I used one of yours?" I asked.

He waved my question away with a hand. "Naw, it's fine. If you're staying with me for a while, use what you like."

"Thanks, Deacon." I said gratefully.

I grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and pants from my box near the front door and was about to take them into the washroom to change when I decided instead to try something. Deacon's behavior was odd to me, but a man's eyes don't lie. I dropped my towel to the floor and stood in my naked glory before the man. I would pull my underwear on slowly and get a feel for his reaction to my body. Deacon's eye grew wide and I noticed some pink flush his cheeks.

The marshall's gaze dipped down my body, taking it in, but only for a moment. He turned his head to the side and took a gulp of his drink.

"Not that you have anything to be ashamed of kid, but if this is going to work out, you need to try to be a little more modest around me." He stated, clearing his throat.

I tugged up the tight underwear around my waist. "Oh sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, it just didn't occur to me." I replied innocently.

Deacon gave me a look that told me he wasn't buying what I was selling. "I know it's a small place, not much privacy, but you can get changed in the bedroom or bathroom. I'll do the same."

I shrugged. "Whatever you want." I said plainly as I finished getting dressed. I felt vaguely annoyed that I hadn't gotten a reaction I wanted from the man.

Deacon took a small heap of clothes and his holster from the common room with him into the washroom while he had his shower. He emerged shortly thereafter in his normal attire: jeans, boots, shirt, and a marshall's jacket and hat. His sidearm was tucked into a holster strapped to his belt and thigh. He cut a powerful image when he wasn't passed out drunk. He headed into the cluttered kitchen and threw a couple instant cakes into the small oven.

"We have the same eating habits, or at least, the same diet." I mentioned.

He looked up at me. "Heh, well, hard to beat the price you know?" He snorted.

I nodded. "You're telling me."

When the food was done cooking he dropped a patty each onto two plates and handed me one. "You got any plans for today, Cheyne?" He inquired.

"I don't know actually." I sighed. "I should go look for work, though I'm still a little bit shaken from yesterday. So fucking annoying." I grumbled.

"Look for work like, find a guy to get with?" Deacon asked.

I felt flummoxed by his straightforward demeanor. Why did I feel uncomfortable when he asked about my job?

"Yeah." I said shortly. "I mean, it's how I pay the bills. We can't all be station marshalls."

He gave a deep laugh. "Hey kid, if I had a body like yours, I might do the same thing. And trust me, marshall does not pay overly well either." He stuffed a bite of the patty into his mouth.

"You have a good body." I said in response. He stopped chewing to regard me before I continued speaking. "I mean, for an older guy, and anyway, I would do something else if I could but the job market in this place pretty much sucks." I chomped into my own patty, swallowing quickly to avoid most of the flavor.

"Well listen," Deacon began. "If you're still feeling rattled from yesterday, and I don't blame you, just stay here today, okay?"

"There's not much to do here." I griped.

"You got shows and stuff you can watch, I get most of the channels. Maybe you could unpack your stuff a little, I mean, I don't really go into the bedroom so just put your stuff in there."

"Why don't you use your bedroom? I mean, there's nothing wrong with it right?" I asked.

The marshall straightened and I watched his eyebrows furrow. "There's nothing wrong with it, I just, don't go in there anymore." He said quietly.

I was tempted to press him further but something about his body language told me to leave it alone.

"Well, I got work." He said simply. His voice sounded distant somehow. He left his plate on the counter and moved toward the door. "I'm gonna get you a keycard to the place so you don't have to wait around for me to get in. I should be back tonight around six." He turned and left before I even had a chance to reply.

For the first couple hours while I was left to my own devices I was listless and couldn't figure out how to spend my time. I wasn't especially good at being cooped up like this, however, the thought of going out and running into more of Tetha's goons was even less appealing.

The wide screen on the wall in the common room flashed to life as I tapped a button on Deacon's remote. I watched a program about scabarethen life and culture through space stations and asteroid belts as I sat curled up on the couch. The program covered the ways that my people handled the colder temperatures, found work and raised families, integrating into human-dominated societies. I didn't think it really scratched the surface on how alienating it can be for my kind to live in large human populations with few of their own species for company.

The show ended and I became restless. I surveyed the apartment, noting the bottle-covered countertops, dirty dishes, piles of clothes and dusty floors. I was a guest here after all and the guy was good enough to let me remain in his home. I determined the least I could do while I was staying here was clean up a little. The kitchen seemed like the most logical starting point so I set up shop there, piling the dishes strewn over the counter into the sink. The bottles were another matter altogether. I found a trash bag under the sink and placed bottle after bottle inside. It was full in no time and I hadn't made much of a dent.

I propped open the front door with one of Deacon's heavy boots and began making trips to the trash chute at the end of the hall. It must have taken half an hour to remove all of the empty bottles from the counters, floor, cupboards, bedroom window ledge and under the couch in the living room to dispose of them. I actually lost count as I was bagging them up and removing them.

When I returned to the sink I started cleaning up all of the dishes, bowls, flatware and glasses. There was liquid soap under the sink along with a sponge and scrub brush. When that task was finished I was able to tackle the grimy counter and oven. The sponge seemed to be the best option for the filthy kitchen floor so I got down on my knees and made my way from one side to the other. I took a little breather after, drank some water and headed for the washroom next.

The bathroom sink area was more or less covered in whiskers and the mirror and tile had soap residue everywhere. I gave a sigh as I set to work. Somehow, it actually felt good to get a little grubby and do some chores with my hands and sweat from my brow. I hoped the big man would be pleased when he got home.

Deacon's underwear and t-shirt from this morning were shoved into a corner behind the door. Laundry wasn't an option for me today as it cost money and I wasn't ready to venture out to the nearby laundromat. Even so, I could gather up his dirty clothes and take care of them sooner or later. As I picked up the marshall's grey briefs I felt a twinge in my cock and had a sudden, dirty thought. I brought them to my face and shoved my nose into the material, breathing in the scent deeply as I closed my eyes. There was the unmistakable smell of man, but there was also something uniquely Deacon in the scent. It wasn't terribly strong, he hadn't worn these for a handful of hours, but thinking about his dick and balls being cradled in the soft material was getting me hot.

I lay down on the cool, metal tiled floor of the small washroom and tugged my pants open. My eyes were still shut as I pictured the marshall sitting on the couch scratching at his manhood while I kept his briefs shoved roughly into my nose and open mouth. I let my tongue explore the fabric, picturing Deacon looking down at me with a lustful expression on his face. My hand jerked and tugged my cock to fullness while I writhed on the cool floor. Soon I picked up the rhythm and bucked from the hips as I stroked the full length of my maleness in time to my sniffs and licks of Deacon's underwear. The grip from my fingers, the scent of man, the slickness from my oozing cock felt fantastic. It took me almost no time to reach climax and I soon began spurting thick, hot streams onto my hand and arm. I turned my dick at the moment I started shooting so I didn't cover my jacket, instead letting most of it splatter onto the small diamond-shaped floor tiles.

As my orgasm subsided and my breath slowed, I pulled the marshall's clothing from my face and wiped up the cum from my hand and floor. I lay there, staring at the lights recessed into the ceiling overhead. Was I just so horny from not having been with a guy for a week? I had masturbated since then, but not since relocating to Deacon's apartment. I suppose it wasn't too surprising that I found the big guy somewhat desirable. He denied my advances twice now, it probably made me want him more. Lying here, smearing my semen into his dirty underwear was definitely a turn-on for me, but the guilt afterward was frustrating. These weren't exactly the actions of a friend, but then, it's not like I even knew what that entailed.

After I had fully recovered from my afternoon jerk-off session I finished scrubbing and cleaning the washroom. The mirror was free of smudges, the counter and sink showed no trace of shaving or toothpaste globs, the floor wasn't perfect, but it certainly looked better. I smiled to myself at a job well done and headed back into the living room. Flopping onto my stomach on the couch, I decided to find something to watch until Deacon got home.

It was just after six in the evening when I heard the keycard reader for the front door beep and the marshall pushed inside. Deacon stepped past the door and closed it, giving me a nod when he saw me looking in his direction. He could tell something was different immediately and I watched as he slowly scanned his apartment. His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Did you clean the apartment?" He asked incredulously.

"Well it wasn't the maid." I replied.