by Ruby Dixon
It makes me want things.
Things I can't have.
Last night, she yawned and rubbed her neck, giving me a sleepy smile before heading off to bed. The way she touched her skin lingered in my mind, and I immediately went to the lavatory, turned on the shower, and jerked off. I rubbed my cock hard and fast, trying to work the image out of my head, but when I went to bed, it stuck with me.
I dreamed of that night in the hotel room, of Sophie touching my face. I dreamed of her hands gliding over my chest, even as she whispered soft, sexual things. Her hands slid down my front, finding my cock…and then stopped.
Because my cock wasn't there. In its place, it was just more scrap metal. More prosthetics. And the dream-Sophie had a look of such disgust on her face that I woke up in a pool of sweat. My mood's been bad ever since, and no amount of work alleviates the funk looming over me. That's why I can't be around her today. I can't get that dream out of my head—a combination of what I want most with what I fear most. Hasn't Sophie made it clear that she finds alien men disgusting? Given her past, that seems natural. So me dreaming about her is just an invitation to misery.
So I work on my own. Or I try to, but the hours crawl past miserably slow. I can't seem to concentrate, and it's quiet in my work area. Too quiet. I miss Sophie's mindless chatter about nothing in particular. I miss her company, and I'm angry that I do. I shove my goggles down over my eyes, turning on the magnifiers so I can focus on the task at hand. The station feedback begins to drone through my head via the goggles, giving a rundown of life support systems and perimeter testing. It's quiet, peaceful feedback and helps my head focus on the scrap before me and not on Sophie.
Sophie's just visiting. No sense in getting attached. I'm best alone, I remind myself.
Always alone.
I pry a flux chip out of a transistor when the station feedback gives a chirp of alarm. Water pressure dropping. Possible leak in sector T.
T is the terrarium. It's not surprising there's a leak there, because there's an entire network of old pipes and sprinklers designed to water the plants and keep them growing. The entire station is old, so every once in a while, I have to go and restore a corroded pipe or two. It's not a big deal. But Sophie's in the terrarium, which means I'm going to have to see her, and my mood is still black as night…and it's not even her fault.
I can't ignore a leaking pipe, though, especially not a leak big enough to set off the sensor alarms. So with a sigh of displeasure, I push off my stool and leave my workstation, heading for the terrarium. I hate that I run a hand through my hair, trying to push it out of my face. That I straighten my clothes. I'm not primping for a female. I'm not.
I thump my way down the halls and into the terrarium. The moment I step through the doorway, the air feels humid and thick, and I can hear water spraying from somewhere. Definitely a leak. Sleipnir paces near the entrance, his hide shiny and wet. He rubs against my leg as I go inside, as if encouraging me to go find Sophie.
"I'm going," I grumble to the carinoux. "Don't knock me down."
Sophie's been hard at work tending the beds near the front of the terrarium, and they look neat and clean. The foliage is still thick and overgrown in several areas at the back of the large dome, and of course the leak would be in one of those. I don't see the human, so I push through thick tangles of vines, heading toward the sound of water hissing out from a pipe.
"Ow!" I hear as I step over a crawling vine nearly as big as a tree trunk. "Son of a bitch!"
"Sophie?" I call out.
"Over here," the female replies, and then cusses again in her human language.
When I finally make my way through the overgrown plants, a spray of hot water hits me in the face and I grunt. Why is it always the hot water pipes that break down? I quickly eye the area, shielding my face with my hand. The busted pipe is one of the sprinklers set into the wall that runs along the perimeter of the room. It should be easy enough to fix once I get the water off. Sophie's standing nearby, half-hidden behind a thick plant, an enormous leaf in front of her as a shield as she tries to approach the broken pipe and the control panel to shut it off. Heated water sprays everywhere, steaming in the air.
"Stand back." I head for the panel, ignoring the hot spray that soaks my hair and my clothing. When Sophie heads for the pipe again, I gesture that she should back away. "You can't turn it off from there. The pipe'll be too hot to touch."
"Yeah, I figured that part out," she comments dryly. "So what do we do?"
"Shut off the water to this part of the terrarium and replace the broken area," I say, stripping my shirt off to protect me from the blast of hot water. I wrap it around my cybernetic arm, because at least that won't blister, and use it as a shield to block the worst of the water, because of course the panel I need is directly to the side of the break. My arm sends up all kinds of alarming feedback, my circuits going crazy as I type in the override. The hammer of hot water finally stops and I fling my wet shirt to the ground in disgust. Feedback crackles through me, making me grit my teeth, and I can tell it's going to be one of those keffing days where my limbs cause me no end of pain.
I look over at Sophie. She's completely soaked, her dark hair plastered to her hornless head and making her seem smaller than normal. Her jumper has been stripped off and lays in a wet heap on the tile floor. Her arms and legs are covered in mud, her face smeared in it, too, as if she's been rolling around in the dirt like her pet does. There's a disgruntled look on her face that might be guilt.
"What did you touch?" I bark over at her.
"Nothing!" She starts to cross her arms over her chest and then stops, letting her muddy hands fall limply to her sides. I can't help but notice that her undergarments—a soft shell of a pale tank top and some strange short pants to cover her hips—are utterly soaked and cling to her body, outlining everything I've imagined. There's a dark patch between her thighs, and her nipples are dark and hard against the wet fabric of her top. Her breasts are outlined magnificently in the wet material and the sight of her like this—soaked and muddy and yet so incredibly erotic—is going to be burned into my mind.
"How-how did it break?" I jerk my gaze away from her nipples—pert and fascinatingly tight—and try to focus on the broken pipe. She's not mine to stare at. I don't get to wonder about the feel of her skin, or what that dark triangle is between her legs.
"I don't know," Sophie admits, and she sounds tired. She rubs the back of one hand along her brow when I look over at her, leaving a smear of mud in her wake. "I was working on the bed at the front when I heard something hiss, and I came to look at it. I tried to turn off the pipe, but it started shooting water everywhere and…" She spreads her hands. "Boom. Clusterfuck."
Clus-ter-fuck. I don't know what it means but it sounds vaguely appropriate. "I'll take care of this. Just get your pet and get out of here."
"Okay." Sophie sounds timid, and I hate that I've somehow scared her again. She hesitates, and when I look over, she bites down on her lip and gestures at the wet pile of her clothing. "Can…I hate to ask, but can you hand that to me?"
I narrow my eyes at her, but lean over and scoop up the clothing, ignoring the raw creak of my prosthetics. Her jumper is soaked, the material heavy and coarse, and I hold it out to her.
She tries to take it with the flat of her arm instead of her hand, and I grab her wrist, turning her hand over. Sophie's palm is bright red, blisters forming on her soft skin. I take her other wrist in my grip, dropping the clothing, and the other hand is just as badly burned. "Sophie," I murmur, all the anger gone out of my voice. "What did you do?"
"Well." The human lets out a little huff of air. "I was trying to help out, and I touched the pipe. I didn't realize it was so hot." She frowns down at her hands. "They didn't hurt until I looked at them just now."
"And now?"
She swallows hard and her soft mouth flattens just a little. "It's fine," she whispers. "It's just blisters. They'll go away in a few days."
I
t is not just fine.
Sophie is hurt, and she needs someone to look after her. I put a hand on her shoulder, trying not to notice how soft and smooth her bare skin is. "Come with me. I will patch you up."
"It's not necessary—"
"I did not ask for your opinion. I said to come with me."
30
SOPHIE
Jerrok sounds irritated with me, but his touch is incredibly gentle as he leads me out of the terrarium and down the hall. My feet are wet and muddy, and I inwardly cringe at the filthy smears I'm leaving on the newly washed floors. It's slippery without my shoes, and when I nearly lose my balance, Jerrok pauses, puts his arm under my knees, and then bridal-carries me back to his workshop. He won't look at me, though, and I suspect it's because I'm all wet and practically naked. I noticed his gaze move over my boobs earlier and then he got flustered and didn't look at me again until he found out about my hands.
I'm probably violating some sort of mesakkah hygiene law by dripping water all over the place, and I feel terrible. Poor Jerrok didn't want me here, and now I'm just making everything worse.
"I'm sorry." My hands throb in time with my pulse and they feel like they're on fire more with every second that passes. It's my own stupid fault, though, so there's nothing to be done about it. "Just give me a few to get my head together and I'll get out of your hair."
Jerrok gives me an odd look and carries me over to his work bench. He looks down at the junk covering the table, and then his tail moves up to the surface and pushes aside everything, knocking it to the floor. With a satisfied grunt, the alien man sets me atop the surface very, very gently. "Wait here. I'll get some towels."
I shiver, my nipples hard as diamonds against the thin, wet material of my undershirt. Sleipnir wanders in, snagging a part from the floor and slinking back off with it again, and the sight of that almost makes me smile through my pain. When Jerrok returns, I tilt my head toward the carinoux, who's abandoning me. "Doesn't look like he's too worried about me for a guard cat."
"He knows you're safe with me," Jerrok says, and tucks a towel around my shoulders, pulling it over my chest like a warm cape. "Give me your hands."
"They're just blisters," I protest again, and earn a sharp look from him. "Okay, fine." I flip my hands over slowly, resting the backs of my hands against my bare knees. I've been holding my hands carefully away from my body so I won't touch them, and I'm trying not to think about how I'm going to get through the next few days. I can't touch anything. I can't help Jerrok, I can't read my book…anything. Ugh.
Jerrok peers at my hands, then moves to the side and picks up his goggles and slips them over his ears. His face is masked as they whir and buzz with gears, and I realize this is the first time he's worn them in a while. It reminds me of the first time I saw him, when he was so filthy he didn't even look mesakkah, his skin a filthy in-between shade instead of deep blue. As I watch him—so I don't have to look at my awful, blistered-up hands—I notice that he's been keeping clean. His clothes are fresh, not the dirty rags he wore before, and his hair is tangled but clean.
Is that for me, I wonder?
"You've burned them pretty badly," he points out.
"I know. Give me a few days and it'll go away…unless you've got a med-bay here on the station?"
"Mmm. Scrapped it for parts a long time ago."
"Of course you did."
He glances up at me, goggles whirring, and a hint of a smile touches his mouth. "I do have some numbing cream, though. And bandages."
"Right now, that sounds like heaven," I admit. The fiery pain of them is becoming distracting, the throbbing growing more intense by the minute.
Jerrok nods and then pulls the goggles off, his gaze meeting mine. I blink at him, fascinated at the tender expression on his face. Even with a cybernetic eye and scars around the corner lid, he's handsome, I think. I no longer see his gaze as jarring, but as just…Jerrok's. And right now he's watching me with a fierce expression that's both protective and caring. "I can't put it on with you like this, though."
I glance down at my body. The parts of me peeking out from under the towel are smeared in mud and dirt. "Right." I chew on my lip, thinking. "I'm not sure I can do much about that, though. Can we worry about that later?" Right now I just want that numbing cream, and badly.
"I'll help you wash," he says staunchly. "Once you're cleaned off, I can bandage your hands for you."
"Oh. Um, okay." I'd get more nervous about the situation, but my hands hurt too much. "Are you sure?" When he nods and pulls me off the table, I try not to hiss at the wave of pain that rolls up my hands as I brush them against his front.
"I've got you," he tells me.
Jerrok carries me into the bathroom and turns the water on. He uses a knife to cut away my sodden clothing rather than pull it over my head and risk touching my hands, and when I'm naked and trembling in front of him, he puts an arm around my waist and guides me into the shower. His clothes get soaked as he takes a towel and ever so gently wipes the mud off my skin. The water is cool, and I keep my aching hands under the spray as he washes me off. It's not sexual in the slightest, and I let out a sigh of relief when we're done and he gives my skin a brisk toweling down. Then, like a child, he wraps me in the towel and carries me back out to the table.
I'm quiet as he slathers my hands in the numbing cream and then carefully wraps them with clean white plas-film bandages. When he's done, I look like I've got a pair of boxing gloves on my hands, and the ridiculousness of my situation hits me. "I guess I'm not going to be much help for a while."
"You hurt yourself," he says, a stubborn expression coming over his face. "All you need to concentrate on now is getting better."
"I feel stupid," I admit. My eyelids are getting heavy, and I fight back the urge to yawn. "I can't believe I hurt myself like this."
"You didn't know." He picks me up and gently carries me off the table and sets me down on his bed. "Is this comfortable?"
I nod, my eyes drifting closed. "Don't know why I'm so tired."
"There's a sleeping agent in the cream. Just rest." He brushes wet hair off my forehead. "I'll watch over you."
"I'm hogging your bed, aren't I?" The blankets smell like him, all spicy and warm, and I try to wiggle over a little. "You can come sleep with me. We can share like we did in the hotel room."
There's a moment of hesitation, and then I hear the rustle of wet clothing falling to the floor. Before I can open my eyes to see what Jerrok thinks, the bed creaks and sinks as he sits down on the edge. A moment later, his big body is pressed up against my side and he's so warm it's incredible. "Are you…sure?"
I nod and curl my bandaged hands against my chest, presenting him with my back. "Thank you, Jerrok. For looking after me."
"Sure."
I want to stay awake and talk to him, but the numbing cream is working far too well. I burrow into the blankets, sigh, and drift off with the warm press of his protective body against mine. Funny enough, but I'm not even bothered by the fact that I'm squeezed into bed with him instead of sharing the enormous bed we did at the hotel. I don't care that he's naked. It just feels kind of right to be here next to him. Like it's the place I'm meant to be, so he can take care of me.
The last thing I recall before dreams take me is a big hand on my waist…and I like the feel of it there.
31
JERROK
I curl up around the sleeping female, unable to help myself. I should get out of the bed. Leave her alone. She doesn't need me pressing up against her, crowding her in the bed. She just needs to rest.
I tell myself I'll get up in a few minutes.
But then Sophie sighs and snuggles her back against me, as if she wants me to hold her, and I feel such a hot…yearning…that I can't help myself. I put my hand on her waist and hold her tightly as she sleeps. She's not allowed to hurt herself anymore. It messes me up too badly. I had a hard time thinking straight when she made those little sounds of pain in her throat, sounds
I'm not even sure she was aware she was making. Her hands were hurting her badly, and I was so focused on taking care of her that I paid no attention to the nakedness of her body.
I'm thinking about it now, though.
I'm thinking about the soft, rounded curves of her ass, and the little dimples she has at the base of her spine instead of a tail. I'm thinking about her strong thighs and the smooth, flawless skin. I'm thinking about her elegant shoulders and those upthrust breasts with tight nipples, and how they jiggled when I washed them, how she sucked in a breath when my fingers grazed over them. I think about the patch of dark curls covering her cunt, as if they're hiding what's underneath. I should definitely not be thinking about the flare of her hips, or how her waist is so small I can span it with my hands.
She's not mine, I remind myself. She doesn't want an alien male. That possibility has been destroyed for her.
So I breathe in the scent of her damp hair as she sleeps, like the creep that I am, and I hold her close for just a little bit longer. Then, I force myself to get out of bed. My cock is hard and aching, but I don't touch it. That seems wrong. Instead, I pull on a pair of trou and think about everything I need to get done. I have to fix up the pipe, because I can't leave the water off in the terrarium. The plants will die, and Sophie loves those plants. Then, I'll need to clean up the muddy smears on the flooring and in the lavatory, and toss her filthy clothing into the cleansing station.
She'll be hungry when she wakes up, so she'll need food, too.
I grab my tools quietly and give the sleeping human one last look. Her naked back is visible, the delicate line of her spine making my fingers twitch with the urge to touch it. To caress it and let her know she's safe.
Kef me, I have it bad. How Adiron is going to laugh at my infatuation when he returns.
I head toward the terrarium, passing the carinoux as I do. He's heading into my quarters—no doubt to look after his mistress—and the sight of that makes me feel better for leaving her side. "You go take care of her," I tell him as I move down the hall. Despite the mud everywhere, the pipe's an easy fix, so I take care of it and the cleanup, then check for messages from the Little Sister. Nothing, but I do have a message from an old buddy who runs a pirate crew. He'll be in the area in a few days and has some salvage for me, so I send the go-ahead.