Resolutions 15: Change in Touch

Read from the beginning of this serialized novel at “Resolutions.”

The laughter and chatter of the dinner guests had long since dissolved into the walls, and the apartment was quiet once again. Max had completed his cleanup tasks and retreated into standby mode with a polite bow. The bedroom lights were dimmed to the “Evening Wind Down” preset, and the only sound left was the steady churn of the dishwasher running in the other room. 

Graham lay beneath the covers, arms resting loosely over his chest. Tobias lay beside him, propped slightly on one elbow. His undershirt clung to his frame, and his gym shorts rode high up his thighs, exposing a glint of metal from his Shield. 

“You did well tonight,” Tobias said, breaking the silence. “I mean it, G. The food, the setup. Everything was tight.” 

Graham turned his head on the pillow and gave a faint smile. “Thanks.” 

“You even managed Marcus. He texted me afterward full of compliments for us. For you. That’s a damn accomplishment.” 

Graham chuckled softly. “Yeah, well, I’ve come a long way from the salmon incident.” 

Tobias furrowed his brow. “What salmon incident?” 

“You remember,” Graham said, smiling wider. “That awful time I undercooked it and we had to order pizza instead? You joked that the fish had PTSD.” 

Tobias blinked. “I don’t think that was Me, G. Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

“Okay, well, what about the risotto?” Graham continued. “The texture was like wallpaper paste, and you powered through it anyway like a champ.” 

Tobias tilted his head. “Risotto?” 

Graham laughed, but the sound came out tight. “You’re kidding.” 

Tobias shook his head slowly. “I really don’t remember that. Are you sure you’re not thinking of someone else’s story? Something you watched on TV?” 

Graham turned back to the ceiling, blinking. His mind reached into the memories again. He tried to hold onto them, but the details seemed vague now—hazy around the edges. Did they happen during the day or at night? What time of year? Was Tobias wearing his old Oxford shirt, or had he only imagined that part? 

The memory was there, but it felt performed. Staged. False. 

He didn’t respond. 

Tobias eventually shifted onto his back. After a few minutes, he reached out and rested his hand lightly on Graham’s waist. The touch was familiar, but it felt distant and hollow, as though Tobias had suddenly remembered he was supposed to reach out but had forgotten why. Graham didn’t move away, but he didn’t lean in. 

Then, Tobias’ thumb brushed softly along Graham’s side, tracing a path through the fabric of his T-shirt. He moved a little closer. The moment hung between them, silent but stirring. Something ancient and instinctive flickered in Graham’s chest. He inhaled sharply. Tobias’ scent, faint cologne and warm cotton, washed over him. 

Graham rolled over. Their knees brushed. Their faces turned slowly toward each other. Something long dormant, almost foreign, clicked back into place. 

Tobias’ hand slid across Graham’s stomach, searching. Graham moved toward him instinctively, nuzzling close, breathing quicker now. His lips brushed against Tobias’ cheek, so close he could feel Tobias’ warmth, and Tobias could feel his yearning. 

And then— 

CLANK. 

A hard, metallic knock between their pelvises. Their Shields collided beneath the sheets. Both men froze, their foreheads remained pressed together for a moment. They shared a gasp. 

Then simultaneously, their Shields buzzed, surging with an electric intensity neither had ever felt before. It wasn’t pleasure, exactly. It was submission. Correction. Purpose. 

Tobias’ head lolled back slightly, his eyes rolling upward. Graham’s jaw went slack. A low hum resonated from both Shields in perfect harmony. Their bodies stiffened, then relaxed. They began to speak, not to each other, but through each other. 

Tobias’ voice came first, steady and firm. “I lead. I provide. I bring structure to chaos. I correct inefficiency. I establish order. I set the tone for the household.” 

Graham followed, his tone softer but no less certain. “I support. I serve. I reduce friction. I fulfill needs. I make order sustainable. I enable decision making.” 

Tobias’ voice darkened, deepening a half octave. “Emotion clouds judgment. Affection dilutes progress. Lust weakens discipline.” 

Graham followed instantly. “Arousal disrupts obedience. Closeness is inefficient. Spontaneity is disorder.” 

Their breathing synchronized. 

“I command.” 

“I follow.” 

“I provide purpose.” 

“I receive purpose.” 

“Pleasure is structured.” 

“Pleasure is assigned.” 

Finally, they spoke in unison, calmly and rhythmically. Almost serenely. “Sex is unimportant. Sex is a distraction. Physical intimacy is disorder. The Shield meets all needs. The Shield meets all needs. THE SHIELD MEETS ALL NEEDS.” 

Their voices softened, losing their cadence and becoming half-asleep murmurs. 

“Arousal is waste.” 

“Desire is clutter.” 

“Spontaneity is chaos.” 

“Touch is obsolete.” 

“We are aligned.” 

“We are aligned.” 

The indicator lights on their Shields flashed in rapid succession, a flurry of reds, greens, and whites, as Tobias and Graham slipped deeper into a dreamless, programmed state. Their limbs grew still, and their eyes glazed over. They blinked slowly, like old machines powering down. 

Flat on their backs, they stared at the ceiling, still as mannequins, lips still moving faintly, voices barely audible. 

“We are aligned.” 

“We are aligned.” 

And then, silence. 

Sleep. 

Want more works like this? Buy Me a cup of coffee as a way to help support this and other writing endeavors.