by Alana Khan
We’re on our sides facing each other. Her head on is on my shoulder, her leg slung over my hips, her heel pressing my legs toward her—like she would crawl inside my skin with me if she could.
“I take it as a good sign,” I say as I stroke her springy hair. “I think it means we have enough distance from the terror that we’re allowing ourselves to process what happened to us. We’re letting our guard down.”
“We?”
“My dreams are more intense since we left that dungeon, too.”
“So the fact that I’m drenched in sweat and my throat is raw from screaming is a good thing? Funny, I never pegged you as a glass-half-full kind of male.”
I have no idea what she means, but her tone is lighter and her breathing is regular. That’s good.
In the dim light seeping under the restroom door, I have a great view of Tawny’s exquisite face. Big brown eyes, short nose, luscious lips. She was definitely the most beautiful of all the Earth females on the Leaf on the Wind. I used to watch her sleep on planet Emirus, memorizing every curve and plane on her face.
I don’t understand why I’m thinking of kissing her. If I were a normal male it would be perfect timing. We’re cuddled in a soft, clean bed. She’s looking up at me with those alluring, trusting eyes. We’re connected in a thousand intimate ways.
But I’m not a normal male. And I abused her for three long annums. And she has that syndrome where she doesn’t hate me like she should. And right now, this minima, she’s looking at my mouth like she wants me to kiss her. Which is clear testimony to the fact that her mind isn’t right.
She closes her eyes and leans closer to me, ince by ince. Those full lips finally bridge the gap and connect with mine. So soft. So soft at first. Her lips tentatively brush mine.
Snaking her hand behind my head, she pulls me closer as we deepen the kiss.
At this moment I am two distinct people. I am a male who’s enamored of a fascinating woman with lush curves and a face I never tire looking at. I’ve imagined this kiss for annums. I long to give her satisfaction. How amazing it would be to pleasure a body to which I’ve administered so much pain.
But the other part of me knows she deserves so much better than me. She should be moving forward—first finding herself, then finding a male who can give her everything she deserves.
“Tawny, we shouldn’t,” I tell her as I pull back.
“Just tonight, Dev. Just this once. Make me feel good. Let me think of something other than the emperor when I look at my body. I want to think of us, of this. Please.”
She pulls her shirt up and presses the hard tips of her breasts against my chest as she kisses me again. This time her kisses are firm, demanding, desperate. Her tongue is fighting its way between my lips.
Although the thought “shouldn’t” is repeating in my brain, her gentle “please” makes my mind up for me. I promised myself long ago that I would deny her nothing.
Tawny
I’m dripping with desire, my heart’s drumming in hunger. Devi’s presence is more than reassuring—it’s erotic.
When we were alone in our cell, when the emperor wasn’t watching, Dev was always supremely kind to me. When his hand skimmed the surface of my skin under the blanket in the dark to make certain I had no broken bones, his touch was as gentle as a butterfly’s wing. But those tender, platonic touches awakened an awareness in me, a budding hunger.
I’ve wanted Dev for so long. I’ve lain next to him for a thousand nights, dreaming of forbidden touch—his touch. At first it was barely a thought, later it became more insistent, but there was no opportunity. Since our rescue the thought’s become urgent.
Why can’t we have this? Why is this forbidden? Lesbians can have great sex without a penis, why can’t we? After my time with the emperor, I’m convinced penises are highly overrated. Dev’s my best friend, and I want him to be more.
He’s kissing me back—not saying no. His hands are roaming lower now, below my waist to the top of my ass.
I want to talk. I want to tell him all of my thoughts and feelings. I want to tell him how long I’ve waited for this and how my core is drenched at the thought of his touch. But I fear my words will break the spell. So I focus on touch.
Our tongues are slickly colliding, at times in the warm air, at times in his mouth, or my own. He tastes so good, sweet and spicy and like nothing I’ve ever sampled before. Maybe I’ll write a poem tomorrow. No words tonight.
He’s so strong; my hands roam his broad, heavily-muscled back. I order my fingers not to trace the thick scars that hide under his skin. I focus instead on the feel of the warm, red skin stretched over ropey muscles. I touch the bare surface of his head—so soft and smooth. And then I’m drowning in the feeling of his mouth, and my own.
My breasts brush his hairless chest. My nipples are needy. I grab his hand and place it there. He pauses a moment. “Please, Dev. I need this.”
It’s as if my words unlock the invisible chains that bound him. His hands roam wildly, hefting the weight of my breasts in his hands, then grasping my nipples between thumbs and forefingers. “Yes,” is all I say. He’s frenzied now, his breathing is labored, his movements faster.
My leg is slung over his, and I press my core against his thigh. He has to feel my wetness slide against him. Doesn’t he know I’m burning for him?
His fingers stay on my breasts, rolling the tips, pinching just hard enough to draw gasps of pleasure from me.
I bite his full lips, graze the thick cords of his neck with my teeth, and then press his head to my chest. I want his teeth to do that with my nipples.
I feel the warmth of his breath there as he pauses. “You’re magnificent, Tawny. These are so large and lovely, a perfect shade of brown.” He sucks one bud into his mouth and licks with the hard tip of his tongue, then applies suction. That transports me into a haze. I can’t think straight. I can only feel.
He turns me onto my back, rolling with me and placing one knee between mine. I slide down and grind against him, surprising myself as I hear my labored breathing. My hands find the taut globes of his ass, pressing him against me even harder.
The emperor’s evil face pops into my mind, unbidden. Leering at me, his lips ready to say some unspeakable thing. I freeze for the slightest moment, then locate my inner drill sergeant. I order myself in my most severe voice to be in this moment. My lids fly open and I look at Dev, my Dev.
Three years and a million lifetimes ago, I would have found the emperor handsome and Dev terrifying. I’ve come a long way from there. I keep my eyes trained on Dev, the kindest male I’ve ever known. His presence calms me. My time on planet Emirus fades far into the background, and I’m here in our safe little cabin. I’m fully here, and my paralysis is gone.
I grab Dev’s handsome face with both hands and kiss him with all the emotion and affection and desperation I can cram into this kiss.
His gaze is searing into mine like I’m his lifeline.
“Make me feel good, Dev.” I silently beg him to erase the memory of anyone else’s hands on my skin. I want to feel clean when this is over.
He bends his head over me and kisses from my collarbone to my nipple. He teases one bud with his teeth while he plucks the other with his strong fingers. An electric pulse zings from the point of contact to my clit, which is already buzzing with need.
He leans up, licking and giving close-lipped kisses down my ribcage to the hair above my sex. His fingers smooth up from my knees to my thighs which are now so sensitive I can hardly bear the slightest pressure. And then his knuckles graze up, so lightly I can scarcely feel them slide along my outer lips.
Oh my God, I want to force his fingers right where they belong. I’m desperate, but I simply grab the meaty tops of his shoulders and settle back into the soft bed, deciding to enjoy the slow pace of his exploration.
He places his thumbs on either side of my clit and spreads me open, pulling enough to put pressure on the hood. I don’t know what is more arou
sing, the tension of his fingers, or the fact that he’s opened me to him and is gazing at my most intimate parts.
“Beautiful, Tawny,” he says, his mouth so close I can feel his warm breath surge against my bud.
He moves his thumbs to gently frame both sides of my clit. It’s just enough pressure to keep me totally focused on his touch, but not enough to relieve my arousal in any way.
Is he waiting for my agreement? I glance down to see him spear me with his deep brown gaze. In his position, he looks as if he’s worshipping at my altar, like a supplicant. But he’s waiting...for me.
“Please, Dev. I know what I want. I want you.”
That was all I needed to say. He places his mouth over the entire area of my clit and sucks, awakening every cell in that cluster of nerves. My pelvis begins to thrust toward him of its own volition. Liquid arousal drips from my core.
His thumbs still bracket the edges of my clit, providing friction that works in counterpoint to his tongue, which is licking the tip of my bud. He alternates suction with licking, with the pressure of his thumbs from the side, and I don’t think I can tolerate a minute more of this without dying of desire.
I’m either going to come or lose my mind. My hands are on the back of his head, pressing him down even harder. His tongue delivers more force, and my orgasm begins as my thighs quiver and a low moan escapes my throat.
I reach blindly for his hand, motioning his fingers toward my core. He keeps both thumbs near my clit and moves two fingers into my slippery channel. My opening spasms around him as he thrusts in a delicious rhythm that mimics the one my hips are already dancing to.
My orgasm rolls through me, lighting every nerve in my body on fire. My moan takes on a word, and that word is, “Dev.” I think I’m piercing the flesh on his shoulders with my nails, but I can’t control the spasming that is careening through every inch of my body.
I fall back onto the bed, muscles still quivering—spent. I pull him up to share my pillow. I want to say so much, but all I admit to is, “That was amazing.”
What is more amazing than the sensations still racing through my body in aftershocks is the look in Devolose’s eyes. If I took a picture of him, it would be in the dictionary next to the word “adoration.”
It’s funny. After sharing such intimacy, I know both of us are holding back so many words.
He strokes my cheek with one knuckle, then traces the outline of my lips, which are curved in a lazy smile. I notice he’s still panting like a racehorse, and reality comes crashing down on me.
Devi—my Devi, just gave me the best moment of my life, and he’s lying there unfulfilled. I should do something about it...but I don’t have a clue what to do. The thought arrows into my head that I just used him as surely as the emperor used me. Obviously, I hadn’t given a thought to anything other than my needs, my wants, my own pleasure. And dammit if he hadn’t been all too eager to comply, to make me happy.
I want to ask him, see if there is something I can do, but it’s been an unspoken pact between us that we never mention the obvious. Which isn’t right. It detracts from the intimacy we share in other ways, but if I bring up his lack of equipment, things will never be the same between us. My chest aches tightly in sadness at this thought.
Devolose
That was incredible. Giving ecstasy to the woman I care about shouldn’t feel like an honor, but it does. All those nights lying next to her, I never dreamed I would taste her cream on my tongue. Her writhing under my touch, moaning my name in passion, that was possibly, no definitely, the best moment of my life.
I should feel bad about this, about the syndrome, about taking advantage of her. Maybe I will tomorrow, but right now, the look on her face doesn’t look like regret. It looks like happiness...and satisfaction.
I’m the one who should be filled with regret. I seriously underestimated the agony that would be coursing through my body after our tryst. I knew I’d be in pain. Having no penis but retaining my balls poses an interesting physical conundrum. I have the equipment and ability to exhibit desire and longing, but not to experience release.
I kiss the top of her head, damp with sweat from our bedplay, then walk into the restroom and turn on the shower. I’ll be here a while; I hope she’ll be asleep when I return.
I avoid the mirror, although it only reflects me from the nipples up. I avoid anything it might show, anything that might reveal how I’ve spent the last nine decades of my miserable life.
I turn the shower on and stand under the hard spray, hoping the frigid water will erase the longing that is coursing through my veins, and hoping the pounding will erase my self-loathing for taking advantage of Tawny and that syndrome.
~.~
I’m turning off the water and reaching for a towel when Tawny slips into the restroom. She doesn’t look happy and sated anymore—she looks worried.
“Dev? You okay? You’ve been in here a long time.”
“I’m fine, Sprout.”
“Sprout? Not sure that translated properly. What did you mean?
“A sprout is a youngling. I’m one-hundred-and-eight, you’re what? Thirty?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Like I said, a sprout.” I finish drying behind the metal shower door, sling the towel around my hips and enter the small toilet/sink area. She’s seen me nude a thousand times, but I still have no desire for her to see my deformity, nor do I want to see the heartache on her face as she looks at it. “If you don’t like that pet name, I’ll find another.”
“I’ve been called lots of names, Dev. Sprout is a nice one.”
“Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow my cousin is going to show us every ince of his ship as well as his entire inventory of ill-gotten gains. We’ll need our strength.”
Chapter Six
Tawny
I found a spice at the back of the cabinet that tastes like a mixture of nutmeg and cinnamon. It ups the sumra’s game to the point I offer to add a little to everyone’s breakfast. After Dev tastes it and pronounces it good, the others give it a try.
Thantose enters the small kitchen, pulls out a chair, straddles it backward, and plops down next to us. We’re at the rectangular table that takes up the middle of the room, leaving the “cold box,” stove, and cabinets along one wall.
A bump-out on the other end holds an upholstered loveseat, chair and scarred table that looks like it was carved from a tree. For a group of pirates with a lot of wealth, this room is a hodgepodge of the crappiest furniture in the galaxy, but it’s cozy and homey and obviously the heart of the ship.
“I wanted to show you two around. Yeah, I admit I want to show off a bit.” He dazzles us with one of his easy smiles. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone as comfortable in his own skin as Thantose. He acted like a total prick when he was holding the Leaf on the Wind hostage, but he’s been nothing but nice since we boarded his ship.
“I know I told you I wanted to give you lots of time, but if I get a vote, I want you to stay on the Tranquility with me. I want to show you all the jobs we have for you...unless you don’t want to do anything at all, which is fine.”
“I’ve spent enough time doing nothing, cousin. I want to be useful. I have no idea what I have an aptitude for.” I watch Dev’s face as it shutters closed. I can only imagine he’s thinking about what he did for “work” the last ninety years. I know he’s not proud of abusing the emperor’s enemies in a dungeon—or of what he did to me.
“And you, Tawny? Any ideas?”
“I was young when I was taken...I enjoyed art and painting, although I wasn’t very good.” I look around, shrugging my shoulders, “I doubt there’s anything like that on board for me.”
Thantose jumps to his feet, gently grabs my upper arm, and pulls me up. “Come with me.” He drags me out the door and calls over his shoulder to Dev, “Don’t make me wait, cuz.”
We descend a set of metal grill-like steps and race through hallways lined with furniture, mirrors, statues, and art. Thant
ose presses the palm-print pad near the door at the end of the hall. The entrance slides open with a whoosh and my head jerks back in surprise as I see floor-to-ceiling art and artifacts in the disorganized room.
“Art, Tawny!” He indicates a quadrant of the room with a wave of his arm. “We have lots of art. We could arrange for you to learn art restoration. There are courses you could take to discover how to discern forged from authentic. You could quantify, categorize, and inventory what we have. You could get proficient on comms and organize the placement of these masterpieces in auctions across the galaxy.” He smiles broadly at me, far more excited about this than I am.
He must see the lack of enthusiasm on my features. As it dawns on him, his own excitement vanishes from his face. “Or...not.” His jaws snap shut, and he picks his way toward the door.