He left sera to sleep, finally—he had slept a little while, but sera was restless. Sera said she was a little uncomfortable, and he could go back and sleep in his own bed, she was fine, she just wanted to sleep now and she wasn't used to company.
So he put his pants on, but he was only going to bed, so he carried the rest, and slipped out and shut the door.
But Catlin's room had the light on, and Catlin came out into the hall.
He stopped dead still. He wished he had finished dressing.
She just stood there a moment. So he walked on down as far as her room, past his own.
"All right?" she asked.
"I think so," he said. Sera was in a little discomfort, he had hurt sera, necessarily, because sera was built that way: sera said go on, and she had been happy with him, overall. He hoped. He truly hoped. "Sera said she wanted to sleep, I should go to bed. I'll do the manual tomorrow."
Catlin just looked at him, the way she did sometimes when she was confused, gut-deep open. He did not know what to say to her. He did not know what she wanted from him.
"How did it feel?"
"Good," he said on an irregular breath. Knowing then what he was telling her and how her mind had been running and was running then. Partners. For a lot of years. Catlin was curious. Some things went past her and she paid no attention. But if Catlin was interested this far, Catlin wanted to figure it out, the same way she would take a thing apart to understand it.
She said finally—he knew she was going to say—: "Can you show me? You think sera would mind?"
It was not wrong. He would have felt a tape-jolt about it if it were. He was tired. But if bis partner wanted something, his partner got it, always, forever.
"All right," he said, trying to wake himself up and find the energy. And came into her room with her.
He undressed. So did she—which felt strange, because they had always been so modest, as much as they could, even in the field, and just not looked, if there was no cover.
But he was mostly the one who was embarrassed, because he had always had sex-feelings, he understood that now—while Catlin, who was so much more capable than he was in a lot of ways, missed so much that involved what sera called flux-values.
"Bed," he said, and turned back the covers and got under, because it was a little cold; and because bed was a comfortable, resting kind of place, and he knew Catlin would feel more comfortable about being up against him skin against skin in that context.
So she got in and lay on her side facing him, and got up against him when he told her she should, and relaxed when he told her to, even when he put his hand on her side and his knee between hers. "You let me do everything first," he said, and told her there was a little pain involved, but that was no more than a don't-react where Catlin was concerned. You didn't surprise her in things like that.
"All right," she said.
She could react, he found that out very fast, with his fingers.
He stopped. "It gets stronger. You want to keep going with this? Does that feel all right?"
She was thinking about it. Breathing hard. "Fine," she decided.
"You let that get started again," he said, "then you do the same with me. All right? Just like dancing. Variations. All right?"
She drew a deep, deep breath, and she took his advice, until he suddenly felt himself losing control. "Ease up," he said. "Stop."
She did. He managed all right then, finding it smoother with her than with sera—but of course it would be. Catlin would listen, even when it was hard to listen, and he had a far better idea this time what he was doing.
He warned her of things. She was as careful with him as he was with her, not to draw a surprise reaction: he had more confidence in her in that way too.
She did not put a mark on him. Sera had, a lot of them.
He finished; and said, out of breath: "Most I can do, Catlin. Sorry. Second round for me. I'm awfully tired."
She was quiet a minute, out of breath herself. "That was all right." In the thoughtful way she had when she approved of something.
He hugged her, on that warm feeling. She didn't always understand why he did things like that. He didn't think she had understood this time, just that it was temporary reflex, a sex thing, but when he kissed her on the forehead and said he had better get back to his own bed:
"You can stay here," she said, and sort of fitted herself to him puzzle-fashion and gave him a comfortable spot it was just easier not to leave.
They had to get up before sera anyway.