by Pearl Foxx
She reached up, her fingers sliding across his unshaven chin, “Chance said you sent him a message.”
He cupped her hand, “It’s hard being the only medic. The only thing you can do about ribs, whether bruised, cracked or broken, is rest. No lifting, no running marathons, just rest. Hard to do that when I hold this place together with spit and dirt.” He nuzzled against her ear. “I was afraid Roland and the Cynkers would be back for you. If I couldn’t protect you myself, I know I can depend on Chance.”
She turned her head to say something, but he give her a chance. His lips locked with hers, his lips demanding her attention. Her hand brushed against his ribs and he pulled away.
“Dammit that hurts.” He ballooned out his cheeks and gave her a frustrated face. “Sorry, I ruined the moment.”
Smiling, she shook her head, “I’m getting that ice pack. Let’s get some of the swelling down before I wrap you back up.”
Hissing he laid back across the bed, his feet dangling, “This is so annoying.”
It didn’t take her long to run downstairs and appear back in his room with the cold gel pack. He started to sit back up, but she forced him to stay with a firm palm in the middle of his chest. Covering his face with his forearm, he let her do her work. She placed the icepack across the smattering of angry colors where she felt it would do the most good.
Grabbing a cybernetic hand, she had him hold it in place, “Keep it there.”
“I have to hold my own ice pack now?” He grinned from under his arm.
“Unlike me, your hands can’t go numb from it.”
“True.” He laughed, “At least they’re good for something.”
Imogen gazed down at him. The hills of his muscles excited her. She’d never wanted someone so much. Was it the words he whispered in her ear? The taste of his lips? Or the enthralling sensation of his touch. His hand were machine, but the way they glided over her flesh with such gentle care made her weak in the knees. Every time they were alone she wanted to touch him, even now as he hid under his arm.
Mischievous thoughts swam through her mind. He was at a disadvantage, lying there hurt and helpless. She snickered. It was her turn to have her way with him.
Her hands gripped the top of his knees.
He peeked one eye out, and raised an eyebrow.
She bent down low, giving him a clear view of the cleavage peeking out from the unbuttoned collar of her shirt. Gliding her hands up his thighs, she felt his muscles tense.
“What are you up to?” He hummed, his hand clenching the gel pack tighter. “I’m too crippled to have that much fun with you.”
“I owe you for the other day when you teased me.” She gave a wicked grin and stroked his already hardening length.
He moaned, “You can’t do that to me. I can barely breathe let alone—”
She tugged the front of his pants down, and wrapped her fist around his cock with a firm grip. The tip of her tongue teased the head, her lips barely kissing the throbbing flesh.
He moaned again, the muscles across his abdomen tightening, sending ripples of hard muscle across his middle.
Her other hand slid across his flesh slowly, dragging her short nails until she returned to his thigh. She pushed his knees apart and laid between them. Her tongue licked from the base of his length to the top and back again.
Each slow stroke made him harder, his dick throbbing from each touch. His breath came out in grunts and huffs and when Imogen peeked at him his arm still covered his eyes and his mouth hung open.
She was in her full control and there was nothing he could do to take over. The thrill of dominating him pulsed through her, sending waves of pleasure down to her aching clit. Who knew pleasuring someone else could be such a rush?
She suckled along the length, his thighs flinching in response. His body betrayed the face that hid from her. It was only a matter of time before he would fold and she would hear him begging for more.
He peeked from under his arm and Imogen gave a wicked grin around his length. Groaning, he watched as she kissed, licked, and sucked him with no signs stopping and only adding to the unbearable want that vibrated between them. He tried sit up and she slid a hand up his chest and pressed him back down, never breaking from her fun. What little of his face she could see was a glorious expression of pained pleasure.
“I’m never teasing you again if this is what you’re going to do to me.” He retreated back under his arm and visibly swallowed. “But it feels fucking amazing.”
Her lips pulled away, leaving him hard and throbbing. “I never said I didn’t enjoy being teased. Only that it was your turn.”
“You’re so mean,” he breathed, both hands balling into fists. He kept the ice pack on his side. “Fucking ribs, I would have dragged you up here by know if they didn’t hurt when I moved.”
“I know, that’s kind of the point.” She laughed, stroking him with her hand. “This way I get to enjoy seeing how you react and that face you make.”
He shook his head. “I’m not coming out from under my arm for fear of face-making mockery.”
She shut him up by lowering her lips against the tip. Her tongue circling as she barely let him enter her mouth. She could feel his need for more in his thighs. He tried to lift his hips to dive deeper and she denied him, her lips slipping away. She ran her tongue along, suckling and kissing, pulling his slowly deeper and then returning to teasing his head.
Then, in one smooth, quick motion she took all of him into her mouth. His thighs tightened around her and he lunged forward with a moan. His head rocked back, neck extended in rapture. She knew exactly how he felt, that moment of letting go completely into the pleasure another gave, but know she could reciprocating the favor made her internal temperature rise and her pussy ache. She pulled all the way off and twirled her tongue around the tip.
Another deep throat slide, and his arm came off his eyes. They locked eyes and she picked up speed. Sucking as she pulled and sucked him in and out of her mouth. Her tongue dancing along the underside of his cock.
He twitched and throbbed inside her. “I can’t stand it…” he breathed.
Tossing the ice pack off the bed, he pulled her up onto his lap. Imogen scrambled to toss her shirt off and wiggled out of her pants. Straddling him, her pussy dripped with need, ready to take all of him inside her. His finger dug into her rocking hips, both grinding in unfiltered arousal. He stared at her with wide dilated eyes as he pushed up into her. They moved in a frenzy, adrenaline had taken hold of them both.
His moans resonated into her and she crumpled forward into his arms, the pleasure of him stretching her more than she could bear. His hard cock sent blasts of pleasure through her and she couldn’t help but tighten around him. She leaned back, giving into the hedonism of desire, exposing her body to her lover’s eyes completely.
His teeth found her nipple and she squealed. Another wave of tightening and he dug his hands into her hips, pushing himself ever deeper.
She gasped. Her body trembling as he lifted her up and down off him in hard thrusts. She was no longer in control of her own body, giving over to him and to the ecstasy he filled her with.
With a final thrust they came together, letting go and riding the wake of their elation.
Chapter 22
Enver
After a few days of rest Enver’s ribs were healed for Chance to go back home and quit stomping around the building like he was made on concrete. Despite it all, Imogen wouldn’t let him do any heavy lifting and for the first time in the history of the Ward he turned away patients who seemed like they were itching to start a fight. When he’d healed enough to be back at one hundred percent, it would be a simple matter to put ornery cyborgs in their place, but for now he had to draw a line. The encounter with Hiram taught him that a well-placed skull slammed into a weak rib could do more damage than he’d thought.
Still, the Ward would have fallen apart if it hadn’t been for Imogen’s devotion. She somehow found time to make m
ore sheets and taught herself new medical skills from his old vidslides, practicing under his supervision. She had a talent for thread and needle, so they’d developed a comfortable routine where she stitched up the cuts and slices that came in with little need for him to even check. The patients were thankful to have two skilled hands at their disposal.
No more rumors had risen to the surface about Hiram. Chance had the word out at the Ball & Joint to bring any intel straight to him and still nothing. But Enver was sure he was only in hiding. Hiram had managed to piss off enough people in Cyn City with his erratic behavior there weren’t too many places for him to hid though. The factory workers had heard nothing more about anyone asking for Imogen and were happy to hear she had no plans of leaving. In fact, Enver could almost breathe again knowing they would take care of her if he couldn’t.
“Let’s go out and have a drink.” He leaned against the wall next to the cot she was prepping. “Let’s some fun tonight. What do you think, huh?”
She was stripping sheet off a cot and placing fresh ones on. “If you feel up to it, then sure.”
“Sure.” He mimicked, “Of course I feel up to it or I wouldn’t be asking.”
Smoothing the sheets, she turned and scooped up the dirty pile off the floor. “Right, because you’ve never been prone to exaggerating your healing. Keep that up and next time you need a nurse, you’ll find yourself lacking.”
“I don’t know if we can really call what you did nursing.” He snorted as she marched pass him. “Then again, I wouldn’t mind more of that sort of care in the future.”
She rolled her eyes at him over her shoulder. “In that case, I expect you to ditch the tired medic look and take me out on a proper date, Dr. Enver.”
“Bah.” He locked the door on the third floor leading to the Ward, flipping the sign to closed. The patients inside could still come and go since it only locked from the outside.
Enver chased her up the stairs but by the time he got to their floor she had vanished. “Where’d you go?’ His voice echoed down the hall with no reply. A chill raced up his spine. “Imogen?” He marched to her room and found the door locked. “Uh, locked out?”
“Go clean up.” She bellowed through her door. “I demand a proper outing at least once with you.”
Smirking at the door, he decided to be a good sport and make Imogen happy. He grabbed a towel from his room and hit the shower. Normally he wouldn’t bother to take a hot one, he saved that luxury for the patients, but this was a one-off request. If she wanted to see him dolled up he would give her this one time to enjoy and clean shaven, unsullied Enver.
The sink area was cluttered with his razor and toothbrush and even the scissors he’d pulled out to give himself a trim. His hair had gotten completely away from him. He leaned on the vanity and eyed his chin through the rusty mirror. When was the last time I cleaned myself up all the way?
He shook his head. He felt like a young soul again, a time before the war and dark stains of his past. Turning on the tap, he shaved the scruff from his face. The glide of the razor was cutting away the exhaustion, the hardened tone of a tired medic. He didn’t have much hair and barely bothered shaving until it annoyed him, never had been able to grow a full beard, but rinsing his face he couldn’t help but be pleased with how the close shave came out.
He stepped into the shower tall and slammed it on full. The water slammed across his back, ice cold. His shoulders tensed but he pushed passed it. Soon, the cold faded into a stream of steam and warmth. The dirt and grime melted off his flesh, his loneliness and isolation disappearing down the drain with it. He took a step back and let the water drench his hair and cascade down his face and chest.
He had to hurry, only so much hot water was available and he was hell bent on lathering every inch of himself before it ran out. He wouldn’t even smell like the same person by the time he finished. Steam rose off the tiles under his feet. He didn’t care if the water was near boiling. For once the metallic hands and arm didn’t feel cold where they connected beneath the plesh over his shoulder, but warm with the heat of the water.
He appraised the cybernetic arm and pumping the fist. Vibrations from each drop of water resonating up and into the flesh of his shoulder. When he took his normal cold showers it would ache, the icy metallic tinge causing old scar tissue and joints ache. Sometimes he even imagined he could feel the arthritis in his hands he’d surely have after so many years of hard work. Phantom aches.
The cold water began to wane, cold creeping back in. Rushing, he rinsed the last of the soap and shampoo away and turned the knob to off.
Palms against the tile, he watched the last of the suds and water whirled down the drain. Water dripped off his nose and chin. Tonight he had Imogen to himself. The blotches of his cracked ribs had finally disappeared. Although, they still reminded him on occasion that he wasn’t completely healed, a deep breath shooting an unexpected sharp pain through his body.
He dried his face and hair and he glanced at himself in the old mirror once more. It didn’t feel like staring at the eyes of a broken soldier any more, but a man who found something worth living for, Imogen.
Breaking away, he set out to dry the cybernetic arm and hands first. His flesh was clean and his metallic parts still had a shine to them. Quality military product, that’s what he was.
He managed to find a shirt with no stains and pant with only scuffs from wear and tear. No telling where he had gotten them from or even the last time he sought out new clothes since he started the Ward.
Ready with time to spare, he wandered down and did a pass-thru, checking on the patients, and made his way to the front door. He waited staring aimlessly at the long dead neon lights of the businesses that used to populate this neighborhood. Night had settled in and the only light came from the stars above.
“Wow.” Imogen’s voice called his attention to the entranceway. “You do clean up well.”
His heart leap into his throat as he eyed her from head to toe. She had made a new skirt at some point, significantly shorter and more formfitting than her compound style garb, and added some color to her lips and eyes. Parting his lips, he didn’t know what to say at first. She came closer and he swept an arm out, pulling her against him. He indulged losing himself in her eyes before the words fell from him.
“You’re beautiful.”
Her face flushed and she dropped it against his chest. “Thank you.”
Kissing her, he beamed, “Let’s go get some drinks. Wait, you said before you don’t drink. This was a stupid idea.”
“I’m all about trying new things.” She took his hand and lead him through the dusty roads toward Cyn City.
They ended up at at Cynful Sparks since it was closer to the edge of the deadlands, the idea of riding the motorcycle with his still healing ribs seemed out of the question and the Ball & Joint was rife with potential issues he’d rather avoid. They sat at the bart and Imogen’s demeanor shifted. Her lips turned to a deep frown.
Did I fuck up this fast?
He leaned in and she obliged, lending him an ear, the music blasting.
“Did I mess up?”
She gave him a bewildered look before leaning back in.
“Are you unhappy?”
Her eyes widened and it was her turn, “I dislike the bartender here.”
He laughed, nodding, “Long as you don’t hate me.”
The drinks clanked in front of them and the bartender winked at Imogen, clearly knowing her from somewhere. Enver wanted to ask what the deal was but didn’t want to ruin their evening. He raised his glass and she held hers up. Inhaling deep, he gave her a sincere grin.
“Here’s to a brighter future for the Ward.” Imogen glowered. “What’s wrong now?”
“How about a brighter future to us?” she corrected.
Groaning, he retorted, “Isn’t that a little cliché?”
“Then come up with something more original to toast our drinks to,” she demanded, a pout forming on her l
ips.
“Fine,” A mischievous sparkle glinted in his eyes. “To Honor!”
She bit her lip, but clanked his glass, “...to honor…”
“Hitting honor, getting honor, staying honor,”
Imogen covered her face, red with embarrassment, “Where are you going with this?”
“And if you can’t come in her, come honor!”
Imogen’s eyes widened in shock and she squealed with laughter before downing her drink. “Where on earth did you come up with that?” She covered half her face, still laughing over the toast.
“Comes with being ex-military, I suppose. Hope I didn’t offend.” Enver winked. The heat of the liquor spread out from his belly. “Another round?”
“Something not so… hard.” She slid the glass back to the bartender.
“How about a “Skybontic Martini this time.” She turned to Enver, “And you?”
“Another one of these.” He wiggled the glass in the air before giving it to her.
“Done.” And off she went, cracking open beers for the regulars on tab and grabbing supplies from the other end of the long stretch.
They were alone and Enver slid his stool closer, cooing to her, “Is this what you had in mind as a proper date?”
“Sort of.” Her fingers reached out and caressed the smooth skin along his jawline. “Wow, you took a razor to it.”
“Figured you’d be glad to be rid of the sandpaper on my chin.”
Another roll of her eyes.
“I’ll be right back.” Tapping his cheek, she slid off the stool. “I’ve gotta go to the restroom.”
“Already?” Their drinks landed in front of them and he picked up his glass. “We just got started. You’re such a lightweight.”