by Candy Nicks
"I'm furious with you."
"I know.” His eyes glittered with intent. “Exciting, isn't it?"
"No."
"Liar. What you're feeling now, that sinking feeling in your gut, it's good old fashioned desire Sugar. High emotion's blocking the marker. Kind of a distraction technique, I guess. Hit me again. I can see you want to."
"Don't be ridiculous. And please don't tell me you marked the child to make me receptive enough to sleep with you. I will never forgive you for that."
"Just a fortunate side-effect. I would never do that, but it would be a darned shame to waste this opportunity, don't you think? Sex with no ties.” Dan touched her hot cheek. “Want to seize the moment? Get rid of all that pent-up frustration."
She'd been to an amusement arcade, once, during the idyllic summer before illness and court duties had put a premature end to her childhood. All she remembered was the feeling of disconnection and disorientation after a day of roller-coasters and astro-rides and oversized hairy creatures who lumbered about making children scream with laughter and sometimes terror. She felt the same way now. Dan tripped her up, flipped her over and then caught her when she went into free-fall.
A different kind of heat was building between them. A sensual wave balanced by mutual desire. Sex because they wanted it, not because they wanted something from it. She moved towards him, unable to stop the sway of her hips, or her tongue sweeping slowly over her dry lips.
"Quickie in the captain's chair,” he said and sat deliberately, hands reaching behind his head, legs splayed. “See what you do to me?"
"You want me?” She stood between his legs, a flat palm on each of his thighs, caressing, kneading the hard muscle beneath. Avoiding the long hard length of his erection. His hips moved, fractionally, a subtle invitation to slide her palms higher.
When she let her fingers glide, every so lightly, over the straining fabric of his pants Dan let out a slow breath. With the back of her fingernail, she measured the length of him and let her hand come to rest on his heavy metal belt.
His eyebrows raised in query.
"Give me your knife,” she said, her fingers moving up and down his straining cock.
Without the slightest hesitation, his eyes never leaving hers, he flicked open the sheath hanging at his hip and spread his arms wide.
"Go on,” he said, and she was almost disappointed at his lack of protest. She hesitated, knowing that once again, he'd wrested the advantage from her. But she was learning fast, the rules of this game of give and take. Now it was her turn.
"Is it sharp?” she asked fingering the plain bone handle. It slid from the sheath in one smooth movement. In answer to her question, Dan touched the pad of his index finger to the point. A fat bead of blood swelled to quickly cover his fingertip.
She was no threat to him. Who would pilot the ship if he were injured or killed? And he must know she'd never put Cristan at risk by harming herself. Beneath the tension of all but baring his throat to a crazy woman wielding a razor-knife, she felt the question. His eyes regarded her with an intrigued scrutiny, waiting to see what she meant to do with it. His thighs tightened, almost imperceptibly, holding her in place.
She'd already known she wouldn't be faster than him. He had her wrist firmly in his grasp before she'd sawn through half a hank of her hair. He looked both annoyed and relieved at the lock of sacrificed hair scattered in his lap.
"Let me,” she said in challenge. “You can sell it to pay for the repair."
The battle lasted only a few heartbeats. His grip relaxed and he nodded curtly.
She wanted to kiss him for that. For allowing her the choice, when he so patently disapproved. He picked his battles well.
"Turn around,” he ordered.
Understandable that he wouldn't want to watch while she hacked off her best feature. She turned, still trapped by his thighs and raised the knife. Again, he stopped her.
"You get more if it's in one piece,” he said without emotion.
His fingers scraped her skull, gathering the hair into a thick handful. Swiftly, he divided it into three and worked the strands into a tight plait, tugging just a little too hard. Blurring the lines between the pleasure of his touch and the pain of losing her beloved hair.
"Go ahead,” he said.
"I can't see...I don't know..."
"Then let me.” It was both question and command. She gave up the knife willingly. Felt a sharp tug.
"It's done."
And it's only hair, she told her frantically beating heart. No need to become so overwrought.
Catching the static, her bobbed hair sprang free and floated about her face. She shook her head, wondering at the lightness after years of the familiar weight of it hanging down her back. Cautiously, she turned to face Dan. Her smile wobbling.
"You know that's significantly reduced your price at the markets, don't you?” Dan's hands traced the outline of her shoulders, the line of her arms. Taking her own hands, he turned them over and inspected her palms, rubbing his thumb over the pads of her fingers.
"Never seen hard-labour, that's for sure. But then again, only a fool would put you to work in the mines."
Her heart slowed as he continued his appraisal, keeping her on the edge of wondering whether he was playing with her or deadly serious.
He splayed a flat palm over her stomach, causing it to clench with a sudden stab of desire. She listened, breathless to his low rumbling voice, the words spoken so close they made her tremble. His hand moved lower, sliding between her legs, cupping and possessing.
"A virgin, eh?” His thumb traced slow circles through the cloth of her pants.
"An Aluderian virgin,” she said. “My price would buy you a new ship."
"I'm kind of used to this old bird. And you'd only drive the poor guy who bought you crazy. I couldn't do that to my fellow man. Take these off for me."
"I might end up driving you crazy."
"A risk I'll have to take.” Dan pulled her hard against him, grinding their hips together in a parody of what must surely follow
"You still want me, looking like this?"
"In hell's name, yes,” he growled. “Do we understand each other finally?"
"Stop talking,” she said. “And make love to me while I'm still mad at you."
"Holy sin, you can stay mad at me for all time if this is how it feels. There's a condom in my back pocket. Find it for me."
"You knew I was coming?” The tide of irritation, which had begun to subside, rose again. A prickling of her skin. The need to slap that smug smile from his face.
He chuckled, low in his throat. “That's right. You stay good and mad at me and together, we'll detonate an explosion they'll see from Alpha Chrom 4.
Or we might even make love, she thought.
Goddess, it was becoming a real possibility.
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Chapter 7
Selfish bastard. You've won her trust. Send her back to the kid. Tell her to keep hold of her precious virginity.
It was the one thing guaranteed to keep her alive when they finally caught up with her.
The fight with his conscience lasted precisely five heartbeats. Long enough for him to lift her onto the edge of the navi-console and push her thighs apart in a move he'd done how many times? With how many faceless women?
He pushed up the tank-top, exposing her breasts for his hands and mouth. Shoved the flimsy top up and over her head, only dimly aware of her helping by raising her arms, then attacking the fastenings of his shirt with equal urgency.
Dropping to his knees, he spread her thighs, and pulled her onto his mouth, tonguing her to a first, shivering orgasm with an almost feral desperation. When she cried out in disbelief, he did it again, faster and harder, without mercy, determined she wouldn't forget her first time.
First time. Devil incarnate, she deserved more than a frantic fuck against the wall for her first time. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he rose and released
his belt-catch. Twisted open the fastenings closing his pants. If she told him to stop, now, he would implode.
So far, only the faintest hint of marker, but that could all change in a heartbeat. Shula looked altogether too loose and sated to be still mad at him. Gazing at him through dark-as-sin, half-closed eyes, she reached out a languid hand and ran it lightly down his thigh.
"Do it now,” she said. “Before..."
"I know,” he replied, ripping open the condom packet. “Stay mad. I'm a fuck and run kind of guy, Sugar. Good at sweet-talking women into bed. You know it. Don't read anything into this. It's just an itch that needs scratching. Slide down a little, I'll make it as easy as I can for you."
Ironic didn't begin to cover it. First time in a long time, he wanted to go deeper, to spend time learning how every part of her tasted. Wanted to make endless love in the dim lazy hours before dawn on an elgin-down mattress strewn with rose-petals that released their hot musky scent as they crushed them beneath their sweaty bodies.
When would he learn that optimism and sex didn't mix?
"Dan?” Shula blinked and raised both her arms in welcome. “Right now, I want nothing more from you than this."
Another pulse of marker, drawing him to her like an invisible thread. He closed his eyes, panicked at the thought that he might not be able to stop. That she had been playing him all along. Cristan's safety depended on his ability to think with his brain, to make hard choices that might involve pain, or even death for some of them.
He plunged into her hot, moist depths too hard for a first time, biting back the regret. Pain registered in the widening of her eyes, resignation in the firm line of her mouth. Tender thoughts and feelings were for lovers contemplating a life-time of bliss. At least she understood that. Better they didn't complicate things with feelings.
Hands grasping her buttocks, he lifted her hips and tried to control the pace of his thrusts. Tried to disconnect the act from the fantasy as his release thundered through him too-soon.
Shula's sad eyes held questions she would never ask. When he pulled out, her body curled defensively, as if she were reclaiming her territory, while he retreated to his.
"This is the bit where I tell you to get dressed and go.” He dumped the used condom into the garbage. “Need to land this baby without too many people knowing and I can't do that with you flashing your goods at me."
"I understand.” Shula unpeeled herself from the metal ledge, grimacing only slightly as she bent her body back into shape. A brief glance before crouching to retrieve her discarded clothes.
He turned his back, not wanting to see the reproach or to run the risk of going sappy on her by offering words of comfort. This lesson she had to learn, one way or another. Better that she learnt it from him. There were those who would slit her throat at the first hint of marker. Others who would die if it meant experiencing the ultimate, Aluderian bliss.
He wasn't ready to die yet.
Yaticera, they called him, on more worlds than he cared to admit. Breaker of hearts.
He fingered the silver plait that would buy them a ticket out of this mess. The title was no longer such an honour.
* * * *
Both hair and virginity gone in less than the time it took to recite the Taro-chi.
In the eyes of Aluderia, her ruin was complete. Keeping the hair long was a gift to the husband, not down-payment on a tube-crawling dwarf and a few spare space-craft parts. Virginity gave proof that she did not marry carrying another man's child.
At least Dan had spared her the humiliation of having her virgin-blooded bed-sheet flown from the flagpole for all to see.
Red streaks smeared the inside of her thighs. She rinsed a cloth in the small bathroom-sink and wiped them away, thinking there should be more to show for such a momentous rite-of-passage. Taken on the flight console while hurtling through space. Not the scenario she'd dreamed of since she'd first learned about love and marriage and the things a man and a woman did when the doors finally closed on them.
The bathroom intercom crackled. A muffled voice said something intelligible. It crackled again. “Come on forward and strap in for landing.” Whatever else Dan said was lost in another loud burst of static. The poor old ship was dying by degrees. Patting the metal wall, she willed it to keep going and threw on her clothes.
The faint, background hum of engine noise had changed tone, become a little louder. Would it be safe to leave the ship when they landed? The dank, industrial stench and the cramped spaces were beginning to wear on her nerves. She'd started to imagine the walls moving, closing in. Crushing her. Then she remembered what might be out there, waiting for her and Cristan.
If a big man like Dan could stand it, then so could she.
Cristan was awake when she went back to the cabin, chubby fists waving haphazardly, legs kicking. She wasn't the only one feeling confined.
"You must be a very good boy,” she said, hauling him from the drawer. Cristan frowned and raised his tattooed fist.
"Well, you can thank Captain Daniels for that one, my sweet.” And then she hugged him to her until he squirmed and protested with a series of weak cries.
"Can we really trust him, sweet-heart? I wish you could speak. Tell me what's going on."
She strapped herself into the co-pilot seat, belly fluttering. Let out a long breath.
"No need to be nervous.” Dan slid a cylindrical disc into a socket and inspected the readout. “Can do this in my sleep. Bringing her in on the dark side to avoid too many questions. Harbour-master fancied a silver wig, and we got a tube-crawler on standby, so it's all worked out.” He finished with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and redirected his attention to the console in front of him.
So much for love-making. They might as well have been discussing the last royal tea-party.
"It'll be fine.” She felt Dan's hand on her knee, squeezing briefly. “Moment I say, get yourself and Cristan into the bathroom and stay there until I give word. It's sensor-shielded. Best that no-one knows I'm carrying passengers."
The fluttering increased. “You're expecting trouble? Should we go now?"
"Stay right where you are. And hang on to junior. Going in on a 180 degree tilt. Can't guarantee your safety until I level off."
"Let me guess,” she said. “Seat-tilt compensators are shot, too?"
"I'm impressed. We'll be scanned before they allow us to open the front-hatch. Be a good girl and make sure they don't pick either of you up. Promise me you'll stay put. I need to know you're not going to go wandering off like those stupid women you see in movies."
"So you are expecting trouble?"
"Always. Now, shut up and let me land this thing."
"Yes sir,” she muttered, pulling Cristan in closer. The child should be in a custom infant-restraint, not huddled in her lap.
"You won't drop him,” Dan said casually. “And he likes this better than you, don't you buddy? Here we go."
This was what they called moving on with life without looking back. The empty condom packet slid past her feet as the ship tilted coming to rest on the side of Dan's boot. He snatched it up, without taking his eyes from the console and shoved it into his pocket. The military-style jacket she'd worn on her first night on the ship together with the white shirt and black neck-cloth, lent him an air of authority he usually kept well-hidden.
The ship levelled and slowed and the viewing screen filled with the blue-grey hulk of the third moon. Dan adjusted the focus, bringing the mining settlements into sharp view.
"An uglier lump of rock you'd be hard-pressed to find. Brace for landing gear."
The struts fell from the gear-bay with a clunk, the jolt throwing her against the seat-belt. Shula's muttered curse earned her a glance and a half-smile from Dan.
"Excedra One, requesting escort to bay,” he said to the blank console screen. He tilted his head towards the cabin door. “That's your cue, Sugar. In the bathroom and don't come out until I give the code. They're waiting to go to v
isual, get."
The seat-belt wouldn't budge until Dan reached an arm out and unsnapped it for her.
"Breathe,” he said. “You're looking hot."
"Trying,Dan. I'm trying."
At the door to the cabin, she paused.
"His Royal Highness is very grateful for everything you have done so far. He hopes you will continue to serve him in the same vein?"
"Get,” Dan said, an edge of exasperation in his tone. “Bathroom, woman. Now."
"There's no need to be rude. Especially after, well...what happened earlier.” There, she'd said it. “You said you'd give a code. What will it be?"
"Best sex ever,” he said without hesitation. “Don't move from that bathroom until you hear me utter the words, ‘best sex ever'. You got that?"
She nodded.
"Good. Now you go hide like a good little girl, and leave me to get this done."
* * * *
He would soon know if the sensor shield had worked.
Nothing seemed amiss in the crowded industrial dock which hummed with the perpetual background noise of the huge hammer drills that extracted ore and precious metals for shipment all over the galaxy. Few years here and a man could set himself up for life. If he survived the high mortality rate and the background radiation that ate you up from the inside.
Two over-sized workers in grey coveralls stopped to laugh at the ship. When he didn't react, they did it again, determined to get a rise out of him. His hand itched to pull back his jacket to reveal the Interceptor Class 3 blast-gun. The short-sword sheathed at his hip.
He scratched his eye-patch, shrugged and gave a clueless grin. Behind them he saw the bald-head of Sal, the dock-master.
"Beat it.” She stabbed the nearest ape with her swagger stick. “Don't pay you to stand gawking at idiots."
Same old Sal. Taller than him by a good head, she missed nothing as he sauntered down the ramp and casually removed the bundle containing Shula's hair from his pocket.
"Open it,” she said. “I haven't forgotten about the Gorlian sausages."
"An honest mistake,” he said, peeling back the cover. “You got me my crawler?"