Adam felt his muscles tense up and had to consciously relax them. Harry was there. Harry was fine.
“What do you mean?”
Harry pressed his cheek against the back of the couch, his lashes hiding his expression. “A few thousand years ago, there was a planet-wide war on Calluvia. Some truly terrible biological weapons were used. By the time the war ended, the population was mostly sterile. Our geneticists solved it, but the experimental genetic therapy had unexpected side effects.”
“I know,” Adam said. He had seen something about it when Harry had explained the bond thing in his mind. “You said it caused telepathic mutations.”
Harry nodded. “Not only. Some mutations were physical. After the gene therapy, there started being born babies that shared a specific gene with our long extinct ancestor, the surl’kh’tu.” Harry looked at Adam. “I have the gene.”
Adam was starting to get a bad feeling. “And?”
Harry shrugged, looking mildly flustered. “It’s different for all of us, but usually it means that people with the gene—we call them throwbacks—are biologically equipped to have sex with either gender.”
Adam’s forehead wrinkled. It seemed bizarre, but it did explain why Harry produced natural lubrication. “What does it have to do with your nearly dying?”
Harry brushed a hand through his hair. “Every throwback is different. Some share more traits with the surl’kh’tu while others are barely different from modern Calluvians. It was theorized for centuries that if it weren’t for the bond binding us to a specific person, throwbacks might have retained other aspects of our ancestor’s biology.” Harry blushed. “Like the fact that after their first mating, the surl’kh’tu started needing their mate physically. It was supposedly a natural mechanism that ensured procreation, because they mated for life.”
Harry swallowed and said quietly, “Some time after I got home, I started feeling off. Everything felt wrong. I felt wrong. Empty.” Harry rubbed his chest absentmindedly, as if chasing away the lingering phantom ache. “I don’t know if I would’ve really died, but I was losing my mind. To be honest, I don’t really remember the last few months all that well. Everything was a blur. I couldn’t think. I just needed you.”
Adam bit the inside of his cheek. “What you’re describing sounds like an illness.” Illness, not feelings.
“It was, sort of.”
Right. Harry hadn’t come back because he missed him. He’d come back because of some biological imperative.
Adam took another swig of whiskey.
Oblivious to the sick feeling in Adam’s stomach, Harry continued, “Ksar restored my bond to Leylen’shni’gul, but it didn’t feel the same. It could suppress my senses, but it couldn’t suppress my biology. When Ksar realized I had to go back to you, he launched political campaign not only on our planet but also in the Ministry—”
“How nice of him,” Adam said, looking at the bottle in his hand. “Now get out.”
Silence.
“What?” Harry whispered.
“You heard me,” Adam said. He knew his voice sounded cold and mean. He made no attempt to change it. “Get out. You got what you came here for. Now get out.”
He could hear Harry inhale and exhale shakily. “Did you—do you not want me anymore?”
Adam brought the bottle to his lips. “Of course I want you,” he said, intentionally misunderstanding Harry’s words. He looked Harry in the eye. “I fucked you, didn’t I?”
Harry’s mouth fell open. A small wrinkle appeared between his brows. “You’re being mean,” he said, looking more puzzled than hurt. “You’re not mean.”
Adam took a small swig from the bottle. “People change. That’s life. You should go. It’s been a long day. I’m knackered.”
Harry stared at him.
“What?” Adam said. “Your ride isn’t here yet? The teleporter has to recharge? Sorry, I’m just a barbarian human, good only for fucking. I have no idea how your sophisticated technology works.”
Harry cocked his head to the side, studying him like a bird. A very pretty bird he wanted to kiss all over.
Adam closed his eyes for a moment. For fuck’s sake.
“Get out,” he grated out, angrier at himself than at Harry.
He didn’t watch Harry leave.
He felt it more than he heard it when Harry left.
Adam looked around the quiet living room. It didn’t look any different. It didn’t look darker or emptier. It didn’t make him feel lonely. It didn’t make him feel anything.
He felt nothing.
Adam dropped himself on the couch and brought the bottle to his lips again, looking at the ceiling without really seeing it.
He could remember the day he had met Harry so clearly. The funny thing was, he usually went to the coffee shop around the corner and never went to the coffee shop Harry worked at—he didn’t like it much. If his favorite coffee shop hadn’t been so crowded that day, he would have likely never met Harry.
He wished he never had.
Adam took another swig from the bottle, relishing the burn, and then another.
He paused with the bottle at his lips when the door slammed open. Harry marched back in, an uncharacteristically mulish expression on his face.