Embrace the Romance

by S. E. Smith

  Rornn

  Rornn was afraid to move, but not because he feared waking the puppy. If Trysh’s hand came one micrometer closer to his hip, his efforts to hide a raging hard-on would be for naught. In that moment, he found himself praising the glory of baggy flight suits. As she petted the puppy, seemingly unaware of him or his powerful reaction to her proximity, he inhaled the fragrance of her shiny brown hair. Her pink ear with its pearl earring, so close, begged to be nibbled and kissed. The downy baby hairs at the nape of her neck were no less tempting. Great Mother, he was glad he had learned self-discipline at a young age, for it was all that kept him from wrapping her hair in his fist and crushing his mouth against hers. From jerking the zipper of her flight suit to her waist. From sliding his hand under her white T-shirt in search of the lacy bra he knew she liked to wear and thumbing the tip of one perfect breast—

  Her wrist brushed against his erection, and he sucked in a quiet hiss of air.

  “Hey, L-Ts,” an MP said, walking into the kennel area. They jumped apart and puppy made a sleepy grunt of protest. “I’m going to close up shop and put the pup in a crate for the night. Someone will be here if she starts to cry.”

  Still rattled by Trysh’s accidental touch, Rornn handed the limp puppy to the sergeant. His body felt like it had been left on afterburner. He was rock-hard and there was no relief in sight.

  The MP carried the puppy with care to a crate with a heated, padded bottom and a water bottle. “I sure hate leaving her,” Trysh said.

  “As soon as we move in together, she can move in with us.”

  She tossed her ponytail and laughed. “Don’t you wish.”

  “I do wish it. I want to be with you day and night.”

  Her eyes flicked to his, a brief, searching look, as if she wanted to gauge his intent. She must have decided he was joking. One corner of her mouth tucked into her cheek as she gave his arm an affectionate squeeze.

  He craved more than affectionate squeezes—unless it was her thighs doing the squeezing while her legs were wrapped around his hips.

  “Are you planning to stop by Nimbus after this?” she asked. “I think I’ll pass. I’m beat. This has been a long day.”

  “I will pass as well.” He offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet. She rewarded him by pausing to delightfully stretch the kinks out of her body. He admired her lithe grace, her slender neck, the curve of her lower back, the swell of her butt, her long legs. The ache in his groin tripled before he finished his impromptu inspection.

  With his hands held behind his back where he hoped they would behave, he escorted her to her quarters as he had done many times over the past year, both here and in flight training on Earth. “Do you remember the nights in Texas, Firefly? When we would walk to the barracks from the club. Everything on your world was so alive—creatures singing, bats flitting.” He inhaled, craving air thick with humidity, stars winking in and out of view above towering live oaks. None of which existed on S’aharr. Or here, for that matter. “I miss it. Even the incessant buzzing of the chickadees.”

  She broke into a smile as they boarded the lift to Deck Four where their quarters were located. “Cicadas.”

  “Yes. The cicadas. I miss them. I miss Texas.” He leaned in closer, and her wide eyes turned very blue. “I am just happy that once I left Earth that I did not have to miss you.”

  She snorted softly. “You’re on a roll, Charming.”

  He swallowed a groan of frustration. It was like a game of bajha with a skilled opponent—he made his moves and she deftly parried each one. While he enjoyed their banter, it was time to prove that his feelings for her were no joke. He’d nearly lost her to Jack Freeman. If not for the puppy’s help, he would have.

  She chatted as they walked off the lift, perfectly oblivious to his building frustration. “We need to name the puppy.”

  “Puppy will do nicely.”

  “I was thinking Blackie. Or Cocoa? She’s so dark.”

  “What if she molts? We must choose a name that transcends coat color.”

  She laughed. “Dogs don’t molt. I don’t think yipwags do either. What about Kaylee or Inara? Or Bari, since she’s from Barésh?”

  “Seeing her condition, I don’t know if she wants to be reminded of her birthplace. I like Freeman’s Folly.”

  “Stop it, Charming. Jack’s nice.”

  “I’m nicer.”

  She laughed. “Let’s stick with Puppy for now. It’s easy.”

  “Do you not think I am nicer?” he persisted.

  “Charming,” she warned.

  Show her how you feel. He took a steadying breath. “About us being together… How can I convince you to take me seriously?”

  “When are you ever serious?”

  “I am in this moment. There is no one else like you. I want to be with you and only you.”

  “See? This is what I’m talking about. With women, you give out compliments like candy on Halloween. It doesn’t work with me, Charming.”

  He grimaced. “My flowery speech with females, it stems from the Vash culture, the way I was raised. As I have told you, it means nothing, however, you do not like it and so I will tone it down. You have my word. You are an Earth woman. I see now that I must court you differently. For this I am willing to change my ways. If you will give me the chance.”

  Her steps slowed. “Did you say court me?”

  He could imagine what his expression looked like. Was it the “look” Danger had described? Go after her… Minutes mattered… Show don’t tell. His friend’s words echoed in his head. “I did. I do. I wish to court you, Trysh Milton.”

  They stopped in front of the door to her quarters. She did not reach for the entry keypad. He began to worry she would escape inside and he would lose the chance to convince her of his intentions. Maybe his last chance. Her fists landed on her waist. “What does that mean? What are you saying?”

  “It means a formal declaration of my interest in you. It allows us to become more familiar with each other. Not only mentally and emotionally, but physically as well.”

  She made a soft choking sound. “The friend zone works for us, Charming.”

  “Rornn,” he corrected. “For this conversation, we should use our given names.”

  “I don’t know what kind of conversation this is.”

  “This is a conversation about my moving from the friend zone to the courting zone.”

  She seemed somewhat relieved. “Like Vash dating.”

  Courting was more of a precursor to engagement, but one step at a time. “I sense a lack of enthusiasm about the prospect, Trysh. Are you not physically attracted to me?” He braced himself for her answer.

  Her laugh was not the reaction he’d expected. “Do you seriously not know? Oh, my God.”

  “So, you are attracted to me. Just as I suspected all along.” Then his smugness faltered. “Is it because I am an extraterrestrial?”

  “You know the answer to that too.”

  “Yet, I sense reluctance in you. If it is not a matter of physical attraction, and not because of my planetary origins, then what is it? What keeps us apart? I cannot talk you out of it if I don’t know what it is.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I enjoy long stories.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  He flattened his hand on the wall next to her, bringing his face closer to hers. “There will come a time when I will understand everything there is to know about you.”

  “It’s because in real life you’re a prince,” she blurted out, as if desperate to parry a direct blow.

  “The third son. The title is meaningless.”

  “Not to me. We’re from different social classes. It doesn’t work. As friends maybe. But not as…more.”

  “That’s it? That’s the only reason?”

  Groaning, she turned her back to him and unlocked the door. “Come inside.” Sounding irritated, she called to the room’s computer. “Lights—medium.” Illuminatio
n revealed her snug quarters that were identical to his. Their rooms on Bezos Station were smaller than most closets in the palace, but in his opinion, they offered what his previous life never could—freedom.

  She gathered two glasses and filled them with water, setting them on a standard-issue round kitchen table. “We’re from vastly different social classes. I’m a commoner. You’re a prince. It doesn’t work in real life.” Her voice took on an edge he never heard before. “My father understood that. My mother didn’t.”

  He froze. “You liken me to your father.” The realization rocketed through him. She assumed he was a younger version of General Zeke Milton. Hero. Legend.

  Callous bastard.

  He felt both a resurgence of disgust about her sire’s behavior and the instinct to protect her that followed. It made sense that her father was the root of her keeping him at arm’s length. Why didn’t he see it before?

  She stood in the kitchen, watching him, her back to the sink, looking wary as she sipped from a glass of water. The shield had fallen over her eyes, a frequent occurrence when they first met, before they became such close friends. A shield that still came and went. He had often puzzled over it, never quite making the connection. Now he knew the reason. She feared he would treat her the way the general treated her mother. If he could prove he was nothing like her father, she would see what he had known all along—she was just the right woman for him. “I’m the third son. I’ve told you this. My title is meaningless.”

  “Not to me. You live in a palace.”

  “Lived. Now I live as any other ESFF officer does. And I am proud of it. You know that.”

  Her expression gentled. “I do,” she murmured. “You’re the first Vash Federation officer in history to graduate from ESF Forces pilot training. I’m proud to call you my friend.”

  He placed a hand over his heart. “I’d be honored if you called me more.”

  “How about I call you annoying because you’re keeping me from a good night’s sleep?”

  “Now who can’t be serious?”

  She gave him a sheepish look.

  He took the empty water glass from her hand and set it on the table. “Is this the only reason you have rebuffed me. Because I am a prince and you lack royal blood?”

  When she nodded, he brought his hands together in a single clap. “Excellent. It narrows my plan of attack considerably.”

  Hot anger replaced the frostiness in her eyes. “For the short term, maybe. What if I’m not looking for a temporary hookup?”

  “What if I am not?” Now he was growing angry. “You think that is all I want with you?”

  “It’s all you’ve ever done with the women you meet.”

  “Because they are not you!” he shouted. “Not…you.”

  They stopped, their chests heaving, their gazes on fire. He almost took her right there, helped himself that kiss he craved for as long as he had known her, then everything else he had wanted, but her quiet, calm voice caught him off-guard, walked him back from the edge. “You make it seem so simple,” she said. “That you can have whomever you want. Your clan rules who you’ll end up with. Guaranteed it isn’t going to be an Earth commoner. Yeah, I know some Vash royals married Earth women, but Queen Jasmine and King Rom got together while the king was still banished. Her son and daughter chose relationships that double as alliances between powerful clans. Instant Vash seal of approval.”

  “I need no seal of approval. When I joined the ESFF I left that life behind. When I marry, it will be to the woman I love.”

  “What about your parents? What if they don’t agree with your choice?”

  “They may not. Not at first. But they already know I have always forged my own path. I would want an Earth wedding. Later on, if my clan were to desire it, I would consent to formalizing things in a ceremony at the palace, but a binding legal Earth union would send the message that they cannot promise me to anyone else in my absence.”

  “That can happen?” Worriedly, she searched his face.

  “Now that I have found you, Trysh Milton, no one will ever take me from you.” He brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. The heat of her skin, her clean musk, he was hyper aware of it, of her. Everything. It filled him. Unbalanced him too. “Give me the chance. Let me prove I am nothing like your father. That I can be the mate you deserve.” He pulled her closer. Tell her how you feel. “I love you,” he said, squeezing her shoulders, and her gaze flew up to meet his. “If you need time to feel the same, it is all right. All I ask is the chance to win you over.”

  He brought his lips to her ear and felt her tremble, felt the tension flowing out of her. “Know this, my beloved. I will always protect you and keep you safe. You will come first with me. Now and always.” They were words he borrowed from a Vash Nadah promise ceremony. As much as he desired to leave his old life behind, the ancient words were somehow appropriate. “For as long as I live, I will worship you. Body and soul.”

  She made a small whimper. He took that as an encouraging sign.

  Now show her how you feel. Gently, he gently pressed the fingertips of both hands to her upturned jaw and brushed his lips across hers, a lingering, deliberate slide, then he paused to kiss one corner of her mouth. Her soft moan was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Her lips had parted; her breathing was shallow and fast. Her forehead gleamed with perspiration, her eyes glazed with desire as she looked up at him. That look—he had waited so long for it to be directed at him, and they had barely scraped the surface of what he longed to do with her.

  “More,” she said, her voice husky, as if reading his thoughts. Then she pulled him close and they kissed, deeply this time. Wrapping the loose fabric of her flightsuit in one fist, he used it to keep her pressed close to him. With his other hand he explored the curves of her body. Heat consumed him, and he ached to be inside her.

  When they finally separated, she murmured against his mouth, her fingers tracing his hairline at the base of his skull. “I used to hate you for being so good at everything you do. Ground school, flying, tactics. But you’re even good at this. That kiss was amazing.”

  He winked. “The best you ever had, yes?”

  “Maybe.” She took him by the collar. “I need to collect more data first.” Holding his gaze, she reached for the zipper of his flight suit and slowly zipped it down to his groin.

  His erection sprang free of his boxers. There was a charged pause. Her mouth tipped into a playful grin. “Boom,” she said.

  Laughing, he dragged her into another passionate kiss, walking her backward toward her bed. Their hands tangled as they fumbled for each other’s zippers, seeing who could undress whom first. Flight suits were peeled away, boots and socks pulled off, T-shirts yanked over each other’s heads. Her bra and panties, lacey confections, stood no chance against him. Then the race was on to see whose lips and hands could elicit the most groans. Now this was a competition!

  Pink-tipped breasts, her slick folds, hollows and curves, every sleek muscle, her body was the most heavenly unexplored territory he had ever encountered. He made her come before he sank inside her to the hilt. She came again after only a few thrusts, her legs wrapped around his hips, her body clenching around him inside and out, his name a plea on her lips.

  He was going over the edge with her. No matter how hard he tried to hold back, it was inevitable. “Trysh,” he said with a note of astonishment. She was his, and he was hers. That was all he needed.

  All he wanted.

  Their fingers laced together, he let go in a prolonged, explosive shockwave that grayed out his vision. He gripped her hands hard, his body convulsing. Then, finally, he lowered his head to hers as awareness crept back. Nothing compared to her. Nothing.

  “Well, that’s that,” he said with a quiet laugh of wonder. “I can now die a happy man.”

  “You can’t die at all,” she argued. “Not allowed. You’ve already exceeded your quota for the day.”

  “At the hands of the Dragaar. Not Tr
ysh Milton. Does that count?”

  “It counts.”

  Grinning, he rolled them to the side, spooning her from behind, the weight of one warm breast filling his hand. “Allow me to court you,” he said, his lips in her damp, tangled hair. “I will prove I can catch you.”

  She rotated to look at him, matching him smile for cocky smile. “Think so?”

  “I know so.” Chuckling, he flipped her on her back and set out to convince her of that fact as best he could.

  Four

  Puppy

  Puppy soon demonstrated her mastery of “heel”, matching her Tall One’s steps while not tugging on the lead. Now that she was “out of the woods”, as a doctor had described it, her training could begin in earnest. While her Tall Ones were busy flying, she worked with her friends at the K-9 center. She had not yet met an Earth dog, but based on reactions to her progress, yipwags far exceeded everyone’s expectations.

  Puppy liked being a “good girl”.

  “Look at that tummy! It’s like a basketball.” Puppy’s efforts to maintain K-9 dignity evaporated the instant Her Trysh swept her up to scratch her ears and kiss her nose. Puppy licked Her Trysh everywhere that she could reach. She loved the sound of her Tall One’s laugh. It was a much happier sound lately. From the start, Puppy detected something deep inside Her Trysh that she wanted to hide from others, a wound that remained raw, a secret pain. But ever since her Tall Ones began mating, Puppy sensed that the wound ached a lot less—and from what she could guess, her Tall Ones mated a lot.

  They stopped at the base of a ladder, where Her Trysh placed Puppy in Her Rornn’s arms for the climb up to the “observation cone”. It was Her Rornn’s favorite place on the station outside of Her Trysh’s bed.

  Restricted Area, a sign said. Unknown to the Tall Ones, Puppy could already interpret the meaning of many of the symbols posted around the station. Bang-Bang might know more verbal commands than she did, but soon Puppy would be able to read. She couldn’t wait for the day the Tall ones figured it out.