by TylerRose.
“You did, huh? That’s weird for you.”
The Command Center door closed.
“This stays between us,” Landra Ahr said.
“Always,” Jerome said.
“Taveragian females go into season twice a year. Roc has not yet done so since coming out of hypersleep, likely from a combination of multiple yo-yo hypersleep sessions and delays caused by her illness and its treatments. I already know she cannot become pregnant by a human. When her season does come, she may not be able to resist the need. I would not make her suffer.”
“When you guesstimating it’ll hit her?” Jerome asked.
“By the signs and readings I’m seeing, after we face Adamantine. If she survives, of course.”
“I have no doubt she will. What are the odds of you three getting back to Taverages? Slim and nil? Given that, don’t you think you could tell her to do what she wants as if she’s never going home? No one would blame her for that.”
“I cannot. Going home is her one hope, Jerome. The one thing that keeps her alive and healthy. I cannot take her hope.”
Jerome couldn’t argue with that, and went to unpack.
Roc knocked on Tyler’s inside door and was not surprised to walk in to the smell of marijuana smoke.
“Can we talk?” Roc asked, brow deeply furrowed with her puzzle.
“Of course,” Tyler replied, turning her pipe to share it.
“How do you be intimate without engaging in the ultimate act?”
“We do just about everything except penile penetration. We go through twelve condoms a week but they never go on his cock. Jerome is very inventive. He uses fingers, hands and mouth only.”
“You are satisfied with this?” Roc asked.
“For now.”
“How is it enough? How do you tell him no?”
“We have an understanding and he exercises that control over himself,” Tyler said.
Roc thought about self-control.
“Meechi is a good man,” Tyler said. “As honorable as Jerome. Did he tell you he trained with Chen too?”
“Yes. He has attained black sash in Eagle style.” Said with a small, proud smile. “He knows where I really come from. Jerome told him the truth back around the fourth of July. Landra has told him other things as well, I’m sure.”
“So what is your full question?” Tyler prompted.
“Will I go home?”
Mist. Clouds. A murky void.
“I cannot say yes or no, Roc. At this time, I can’t see past Valentine’s Day.”
“If we die, then nothing done today will even matter,” Roc said.
“Let me ask you this: If you have sex with a human male, what is the worst the sisterhood could do to you?” Tyler asked.
“Expel me from the Sisterhood in shame.”
“Okay. What else?”
“That’s it. Expulsion,” Roc said.
“For being close to a man when you had little hope of ever going back? They will convene a court to judge you? They will expel you when they cannot possibly comprehend how lonely and alone you are? No,” Tyler shook her head, chin low and looking at Roc out of the top of her eyes. “I think there will be no questions asked because they will be too happy to have you back to care if you were celibate while you were gone for a hundred and seventy years.”
Roc thought on that, saw her point. “How do I let go of my devotion to my people?”
“Your people are millions and millions of miles away, remember? They have their own problems right now. Whether or not you are rocking a jones on Earth is irrelevant to them. You’ve been gone so long now that not one person remains alive who ever laid eyes on your face. You tending to your emotional and physical needs is the last thing on their minds. Far as they know, you’re long dead.”
Another silence.
“Can you take away the memory of what happened before?” Roc asked.
“Can I? Yes. I’m capable of doing that. Will I? No,” Tyler replied, flat as a board. “You will diminish the meaning of the sharing if you alter your fundamental self first. You like the man enough, and trust him enough, to ponder these issues. Trust yourself to decide what’s best for you. Forget the rest of the universe. It doesn’t get a say.”
Knocking on the door stalled Roc’s doubtful reply, Gable coming in when the door cracked open for him.
“Meechi’s here, Roc.”
She smiled a smile that said Meechi was special indeed. “I’ll be down in a moment.”
The door closed.
“Sisters are not given the luxury of love,” Roc said. “Our mates prove themselves in mass combat against each other. The last man standing fathers the child or becomes the spouse, depending on what color flame was lit. We do not have choice, let alone an emotion.”
“Welcome to America, where you can say no if you want to. He is a kind and generous lover, Roc. All you have to do is let him do what he knows how to do. You are safe with him and he is very good at what he does.”
Another silence and Roc smiled. “Thank you, Tyler.”
“You’re welcome.”
Roc went down the inside steps and out through the garage to avoid more of the cold wind. Demitrius was standing next to the car, talking to Jerome. He saw her and smiled, moving to meet her between the car and the garage. Kiss on the lips and holding hands, he walked her around to open the door for her.
“Alright, man. Catch you later,” he said, offering a hand to Jerome before getting into the car himself.
The sound of the door shutting was loud in Roc’s ears. She was oddly nervous when he turned to her in the seat of his 1969 Camaro, but kissed him when he leaned in.
“You look beautiful, honey. I missed you.”
Another three kisses and her heart was racing. He put her hand on top of his to rest together as he shifted the gears. She liked to feel the machine work but was far too timid to try to drive herself. They ended up downtown at Portside.
“Not Giuseppe’s?” she asked as he pulled the car into the lot across the street.
“Too many people reporting back to Ty or Jerome,” he admitted. “We are strangers here.”
They crossed the street. He dropped some money into a big red kettle as they passed on the way inside. They stopped to watch the fudge shop crew make a fresh batch of chocolate peanut butter fudge. She’d never had it before. After tasting a sample, she nodded enthusiastically at his question of whether or not she’d like some to take home. He bought a two pound brick of the fresh confection. They walked around before going to the fancy seafood restaurant At his request, they were seated at once at a table near an inside wall. The windows were too cold.
“I like being strangers; but I don’t mind so much if they know anything. They’ve both been a great help to me,” Roc said.
“With what?” he asked, looking over the menu.
“Well. Thanks to Tyler, I know what salmon fettuccini alfredo is. And I know I’ll probably like it,” she smiled.
“And Jerome?” he asked, liking her bright smile.
“That not all men are bad.”
He eyed her over the top of his menu, and put it down. “I know there’s a story there. You know I’ve heard part of it. I’d rather hear your version.”
“Not over supper.”
“We’ll take a drive later. I know a great place for ice cream.”
“In January?” she guffawed.
“Of course. Americans actually eat more ice cream in the winter than in summer,” he told her.
“You humans are strange creatures.”
“I’m not going to dispute that.”
The waitress came over and they ordered. Tyler had taught Roc the joys of deep fried cheese. She chose mozzarella sticks for their appetizer. To her delight, she was able to suggest a wine they’d enjoyed at the warehouse.
“So Ty is teaching you about food?” he asked.
She blushed. “Since she arrived, I’ve been able to eat and enjoy Earth food. She is a wonderful co
ok. Did you know she pulls her own pasta noodles?”
“I did not know that. Enough about the redhead who belongs to someone else. I’m more interested in the honey blonde I’m having dinner with,” he said, and moved around the table to sit beside her rather than across from.
Chair angled to face her and she went shy.
“I’d rather talk about you,” she admitted quietly, eyes lowering with his more intimate proximity.
“Please look at me.”
Her eyes lifted slowly and when they met his, locked in place.
“You’ve never been intimate, have you?” he asked.
The tiniest shake of her head.
“But someone did something bad?”
The tiniest nod.
“Did Jerome tell you the story of why we started Safe Haven six years ago?” he asked.
“He said he wanted to give people from his old neighborhood a safe place to live,” Roc replied.
“Yeah, that’s Jerome for ya. My Mama was coming home from her second job. It was late and a man rushed up behind her at the door as she was putting the key in. He beat her and he raped her and he left. Less than three months later, Jerome and I bought the building and had her moved into Safe Haven with a bunch of other families We gave her the job of building manager so she wouldn’t have to work other jobs anymore.”
“What about the one who did it? Mine were soldiers and they were doing their job.”
“Oh he’s dead. He got found by some people I totally don’t know and for some strange reason he ceased to breathe.”
“I hate when that happens,” Roc blinked in a deadpan, borrowing the phrase and expression from Tyler.
“A woman is violated in this country on average about every eight minutes. Every single day. Ty and I were talking one night at Giuseppe’s. She figured it out that nine out of ten women are subjected to serious harassment or outright assault at some point in their life.”
“Nine out of ten?” Roc repeated.
A pause while the deep fried cheese was placed on the table with the wine.
“Where I am from, perhaps two or three happen planet wide in a day. Out of a hundred million people,” she said.
“It’s the worst thing in the world to happen to anyone. Especially someone as sweet and gentle as you are.”
Eyes lowering, she blushed a pretty pink. He served out the sticks to give her a moment to cool down. Dinner was delicious and they lingered over it before he suggested they go for that drive.
Snow from the storm two days earlier had been cleared from all the main streets but not all the side streets. As he had done Christmas Eve, he drove around for her to look at the lights decorating houses. This time he went across the Cherry Street bridge and up Main Street into the East Side. Out Starr Avenue and into the suburb of Oregon, where there were larger plots of land and more people had more money. Around ten he kissed her hand.
“I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” she whispered to her own surprise.
Her head turning to look at him, he looked at her in the glow of a street lamp. Car in gear, he headed for the Pickle Road apartment instead. He took her by the hand up to the quiet second floor corner apartment. Coat and shoes off, he sat her on the sofa while he put on classical music, nice and low.
“I don’t want you to think you have to go to bed with me, Roc,” he said. “You don’t have to do anything to keep me interested.”
“I know. You’re a good man, Demitrius. You may be vicious in a fight but you are equally kind to your woman. I could not ask for more. I’m just going to be very nervous and maybe a little scared. It’s not just the physical aspects, but setting aside two and a half decades of teachings that said I wasn’t allowed to be with a man.”
“Then we understand each other,” he said, pulling her closer. “You can say stop at any time.”
“But that’s partially what I’m afraid of. That I’ll panic and make you stop and ruin everything when I don’t really want to stop.”
“How about this. If you get that feeling, instead of saying no or stop, say panic. I’ll know to ease back a bit and let you breathe a moment and you won’t be ruining anything. Okay?”
Tremendous relief in a breathy smile. “Okay.”
He saw that she honestly had no clue the mechanics or most basic interactions of any of intimacy.
“If you don’t mind, I’m just going to think of you as a virgin. Far as I’m concerned, you are,” he said.
Many long and slow kisses and she found herself naturally wanting to lie down as he leaned in to stretch out over her. Her thighs knew what to do, parting as his hips came to rest between them.
All at once she surged with anxiety. “Panic!”
He braced on his arms over her. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re still dressed. I’m still dressed.”
“I know,” she blinked, feeling unexpected wetness at the corners of her eyes. “Maybe that’s the problem?”
“Okay, come with me.”
Into the bedroom and he took off his shirt. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on her shoulders, but she got them open. She started to panic again, holding the dress up to keep herself covered. He slipped his arms around her for a warm hug and fresh kisses.
“If you’ve never been intimate, then I know you’ve never been nude for a man,” he gently reminded her.
The slump of her shoulders was in relief and she was able to let the dress fall to the floor. Her arms reached around his waist.
“How about you open my pants?” he said after a moment enjoying the feel of her breasts against his chest and abs.
A simple belt. Button fly jeans. She didn’t know what to do from there.
“Lie down. Let me get out of these,” he said, and watched her turn around and go to the bed.
She had a heart shaped ass. Sweet and smooth. And lovely teardrop shaped breasts. She looked as human as any other woman he’d ever known. Was all softness, whether he touched her skin or felt for a muscle. On her side on the bed, a set of irresistible curves, she watched with wide eyes as he stripped to his skin.
He gave her a pose, turning slightly sideways with one arm bend upwards and the other behind. “Man. Naked!”
She laughed, a delightful sound, and then he was beside her. Facing her, arm slipping over her waist.
“You have a beautiful laugh,” he said, and pulled up the sheet to cover them against a chill.
They lay together in the quiet, feeling. Being.
“Your mother is very dark. Like dark chocolate. But you are much lighter,” she observed. “Your father was Caucasian?”
“Light skinned Mexican,” he said. “I never knew him. He sky-ed on us when I was two and my sister was four.”
Roc knew sky-ed was slang for he left.
“I did not know my father either,” she shared.
“He leave your mother?”
She explained about the games, concluding with “Most of the Sisterhood do not know their fathers.”
“We have a lot in common then,” he replied, liking the feel of her head on his chest. “Come on up here and kiss me.”
Much more at ease, she lifted her head. When he was ready to move past the kissing, he sat up more and had her straddle his hips. Nervous, yes, but she did it, and found she liked the feel of his genitals against hers. Warm, the coarseness of his pubic hair an intimacy she couldn’t have guessed at. More kissing and she gasped when his hands closed around her breasts. He leaned forward to suck a fat nipple into his mouth. Small breasts, but she had huge nipples a man could snack on. Open mouth, throaty gasp as she ground down over him. Strong, manly hands held her breasts where he wanted them and his mouth moved from left to right until he succeeded in getting a full groan out of her.
“Reach behind you, baby. Stroke me hard for you,” he said, hand caressing her cheek.
Tentative, but her right arm swung back. She found him already mostly hard, slipped her fingers around and slid her palm up
and down. His penis swiftly filled her hand, growing harder with each stroke down. His groan was strange to her ears. Such a simple thing made him more impassioned?
“Are you panicking?” he asked about her pause.
“No. I…”
“Do you want to stop?”
“No!” she said.
“Then you slide down onto that pole, baby. You in control.”
She halted. “I—don’t know what to do.”
“Up taller on your knees,” he said, his hand closing around hers to hold his cock upright. “Put the hole over the tip of the pole and down you go.”
His bright smile was disarming as could be. Her tension broke with his humor but still she hesitated.
“The alternative is for you to be on your back and I drive,” he told her. “You on top puts you in control. You lie down, you lettin’ me be in control. You lie down, you are offering yourself to me. Your choice.”
She stared at him, released the hardness in her fist. To prevent her from having a panic, he was willing to give up the position of dominance. Eyes on his, passive but decisive, she slid off to the side, eased down to lie on her back. He turned onto his side, finger stroking back and forth on her cheek.
“You sure?” he asked.
She nodded. The soldier had taken her from behind. If Demitrius was on top face to face, it would be entirely different.
He reached for the tube of lube in the bed stand drawer to slick himself up.
“Hold onto my shoulders, baby,” he said, lowering between her warm thighs.
She did, heart racing, nerves shaking inside her skin. Then he was kissing her again and she forgot her nerves. Soon as she relaxed, he pushed forward into her. Tight, as expected, but her flesh gave easily to accept him. Brief, shocked cry of the expected pain, and he paused to be sure she was okay.
“I’m fine. Please don’t stop.”
He didn’t, taking her for a slow roll, teaching her how and when to move with him; how it felt when she held still and let him drive deeper. A good twenty minutes elapsed before he was taking her fully with each thrust.
“Panic!” she suddenly said, fingernails digging hard into his shoulders. She shuddered under him, crying out a shocked sound.