by Rosette Lex
“You’re sure this isn’t going near there?” he asked.
“Near, maybe,” Vivienne replied, “but not in.”
She rolled onto her side and said, “Lie down behind me.”
Looking slightly dubious, Que obeyed. Vivienne shifted back until her back was pressed to his chest, and she reached back to curl one hand around his cock.
She smeared her thumb over the head, spreading the gathered pre-cum around. She lifted one leg enough to spread her thighs just enough to fit his cock between them, before she lowered her leg once more.
“There you go,” she said.
Que’s first thrust was slow, as if the entire concept was utterly foreign. But Vivienne’s thighs were slick with sweat and cum, and after just a couple thrusts, his cock glided easily between her thighs, his pelvis pressing to her ass with each thrust, each one coming faster and harder than the one before.
He came with a grunt and bitten off curse, and his fingers bit into her hips with enough force to bruise.
For a few moments they stayed just like that, pressed together tightly. Before long, though, Vivienne peeled herself out of his grip and sat up.
“Thank you,” she said eventually, as she gathered up her clothing and carelessly pulled it back on.
“For distracting me, and for listening this time.”
As she walked to the door, he gave her a look that she wasn’t sure how to translate. She wasn’t going to say it was kind—she wasn’t even sure if Que was capable of that—but it was somehow softer than it had been.
She pondered what that might mean as she headed back to her room.
Chapter Seven
That night, Vivienne wised up and stripped naked before she lied down on her bed. It was a good move on her part, as she dreamed about Que again.
She dreamed of him fucking her, like he was trying to pound her straight through the bed and into the floor. She dreamed of him claiming her with hands and lips and the rest of his body, and when she woke with a gasp, her thighs were wet.
She lied there and sulked at the ridiculousness of the situation for a couple minutes before she rolled out of bed to clean herself up and get dressed. It was still early enough in the morning that the sun wasn’t fully up, but she had the distinct impression that she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, so she may as well start her day.
The day before still nagged at the back of her mind, she threw herself into exploring the base, determined to delve into each and every corner she could get to. She didn’t know what she was looking for, or if she was even looking for something at all, but she did know that being perpetually lost rankled at her, and she wanted to fix that.
Besides, maybe she would be able to find her pod, or at least a few pieces of it. That seemed more than a little unlikely—she doubted they would just leave it laying about for her to trip over it—but the thought still offered her a small amount of comfort, and she smiled privately to herself.
She knew that her room was in the barracks. The doors were all evenly spaced on both sides of the hall, and each door was identical, and if her room was anything to go by, they were likely all cramped and utilitarian. But she knew the base had to consist of more than just barracks and a stable.
The first room she stumbled upon was the mess hall, already bustling with people, men loitering about and eating breakfast in various stages of wakefulness. Vivienne lurked cautiously outside for a full minute before she continued on her way. Where there was a mess hall, there was a kitchen, and the kitchen would be less crowded than the mess mall.
It took her no time at all to find the back entrance to the kitchen, where only a handful of people were working. They hardly even looked up when Vivienne darted in, snatched a few pieces of fruit and a paring knife, and darted back out.
She ate as she explored, discarding colorful bits of fruit peel in garbage bins as she walked, until the fruit was gone and she set the paring knife down on a random windowsill.
Every aspect of the base seemed to buzz with activity, even early in the morning. She expected it, though. Vivienne was accustomed to the hum and buzz of base life.
So it surprised her when she rounded a corner and everything began to grow quieter. The walls were darker and further apart. There was more ornamentation on the walls and ceilings. It was as if she had walked into an entirely different building.
She didn’t realize she had moseyed into a temple—maybe to that Uthenarilini guy the prophecy had mentioned?—until she stumbled upon a room that was clearly a chapel of some sort, with a familiar voice drifting out of it.
Hastily, Vivienne ducked behind the wall so Que wouldn’t see her if he turned around, but he seemed entirely absorbed in his one-sided conversation.
“…but honestly, father, I don’t know what you’re expecting of me.”
Que was pacing back and forth at the front of the otherwise empty chapel, his hands folded together in front of his chest. Even as he paced, he kept his gaze directed towards a statue of a man with a curved sword raised to stab the sky.
“You told me I was destined for greatness, that I would be the strongest, and it wasn’t until I was older that I even understood that you were eluding to the prophecy, and I was thrilled.” He dragged one hand through his hair before he clasped them back together in front of himself.
“But I’m not so sure I can fulfill that prophecy anymore, father. I’m going to let you down, and I’m not even sure I’ll feel bad about it.” He laughed humorlessly.
“You told me what a leader had to be. Strong, unfaltering, uncompromising. And yet I can’t even claim a single woman as my own, because she said no.” He sighed slowly and finally his pacing slowed, so he could instead stare straight at the statue.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, father, but I don’t think you have any more guidance to offer me.”
After a moment, he added reluctantly, “I don’t think your guidance in this regard was ever particularly good.”
He turned around then, his hands dropping to his sides. Despite already being out of the way, Vivienne retreated further into the hallway and quickly fled back towards the base proper. She already knew Que had a temper; she didn’t need to find out how he would react to eavesdropping.
He had certainly given her a lot to think about, though. With the sight she had just seen lodging itself firmly into her head, Vivienne set off towards the stable at a jog. Bai wasn’t so bad, and rambling at animals was generally preferable to rambling at herself, a mirror, or a captive audience.
Maybe the crawler would help her figure out a few things. And if he couldn’t…well, at least she had something other than the previous day to occupy her thoughts. That was a plus to her.
Vivienne fled to the stable, where she strode past two other crawlers and something large enough that it had to be someone’s steed before she came to Bai’s stall. He was hunkered down in the back, his legs curled up under him as he nestled in the soft, white bedding of his stall, his neck curved so that his head rested close to his chest. Had he been a bird, Vivienne had no doubts that he would have had his head under his wing.
She rested one hand against the edge of the stall door, and Bai jerked once, twice, and woke up, sluggishly lifting his head, four eyes blinking at her slowly. The crawler crooned quietly at her and climbed to his feet, shaking bedding out of his feathers and stretching as much as his limbs and neck allowed.
Still sleepy, Bai ambled towards the stall door and rested his head on it. Vivienne took the cue to begin petting him, one hand idly running up and down his snout and forehead, between his nostrils and his eyes.
“Que’s a bit of a strange one,” Vivienne informed the crawler conversationally.
When Bai trilled at her curiously, she continued, unsure if he really had any idea of what she was saying but also uncaring.
“He acts so big and tough, but I just heard him asking his dad for advice. His dead father.” She scratched the top of Bai’s head, and his eyes w
ent half-lidded and he shifted on his feet.
“It’s a little strange, don’t you think?” Vivienne wondered.
“Considering everything I’ve seen him do and say, it’s a little strange for something to freak him out.”
She fell silent when she heard the door to the stable open, and a moment later Que said quietly, “You are not as subtle as you think you are.”
Vivienne sighed dejectedly and pulled her hand away from Bai, instead folding her arms over her chest and leaning one hip against the stall door. Bai trilled in neglected misery and nudged at her elbow with his nose, and then sagged against the stall door in feigned despair when she didn’t immediately resume petting him.
“You saw me?” Vivienne asked.
“I heard you,” Que clarified. “When you left. The others have quieter steps than you do.”
Vivienne huffed out an irritated breath. “Really?”
“My deepest apologies for informing you,” Que deadpanned. He cleared his throat.
“Now, if you could just not acknowledge any of what you heard back there…”
Vivienne laughed before she could help herself. “Are you crazy?” she asked.
“I finally find something that makes you seem like less of a heartless cartoon villain, and you want me to ignore it?”
“If it would damage my credibility, then yes,” Que snapped in reply.
Vivienne arched one eyebrow. “How will it damage your credibility?” she asked.
“I’m not exactly going to go telling everyone on base what I heard. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t really talk to anyone who isn’t you unless they have feathers.” She gestured to the sulking crawler.
“Even if I did, I’m not sure how it would somehow ruin your sparkling reputation.”
Que sighed slowly, impatiently, as if he had to explain a complicated idea to a very young and particularly dim child.
“I wish to lead the inari,” he replied. “You know this. But even if I fulfill the prophecy—even if I make you mine—I must still be a leader if I want them to respect my authority.”
When nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, Vivienne slowly said, “Okay…?”
Que rolled his eyes.
“A leader is strong. He does not spend his time questioning his own decisions. He does not bow to those below him. He rises above, and he does not let those below him question him or disobey him.” He leveled her with an irritated look, his brows furrowed.
“And yet you have defied me, and I let you. You have questioned me. I have questioned myself in regards to you, because I do not wish to hurt you, even though doing so has denied me the one thing that will guarantee my spot as king.” He scoffed.
“How am I supposed to lead and rise above if I cannot even rise above one person?”
Vivienne observed him in silence for a long moment, looking thoughtful and contemplative.
Eventually, with her head tipped to one side, she said plainly, “Your entire concept of leadership is skewed.”
Que’s eyebrows rose. “How so?” he asked, sounding distinctly skeptical.
Vivienne scratched her head with one hand, short hair rustling between her fingers. “A leader needs to have regard for the people they’re leading,” she supplied.
“You can’t just slap a crown on any available head and hope it works. It would be a disaster.” She shook her head briefly.
“A leader needs to be able to take criticism and to recognize when someone else is right. A leader needs to question their decisions. Not to the point of inaction, but at least enough that they know they’re capable of making a bad decision.” She was quiet for a moment before she continued.
“A leader needs to be able to command and be taken seriously, but they also need to be able to recognize that someone below them has had a good idea—maybe even a better idea—and not let pride prevent them from acknowledging it.”
She shrugged and dragged one hand over her hair. “I understand that your dad’s advice was important to you, and he had a lot of big plans he wanted you to gun for, but that doesn’t mean he was one hundred percent right about everything. You need to form your own opinions; you need to do that to be a leader, anyway.”
They lapsed into silence, staring at each other blankly for a few slow moments, until Que seemed to stutter back into motion.
He took a step back, towards the door back into base, and managed to get out, “That’s…fascinating. I need to go do something,” before he turned and fled at a brisk walk.
Vivienne turned her attention back to the sulking crawler, though Bai immediately stopped sulking the moment Vivienne began petting him again.
“This is not how I pictured my day going,” she informed him. “Even with all the ‘held hostage on an alien planet’ nonsense.”
Bai crooned at her sympathetically.
Chapter Eight
Vivienne never actually expected to find her pod. She looked for it, now and then, while she wandered Fort Mallimae, but she looked for it in the idle, listless way of one who didn’t actually expect to find it. Like children growing bored with leprechaun hunts as they grew older, each subsequent hunt for the pod had less energy.
So it came as a surprise when she found it. She hadn’t even been looking for it at that point.
It was blind curiosity that led her to shadow a maintenance worker through the halls. It was dumb luck that the worker didn’t see her when she snuck into the storage room behind him. It was a miracle that he didn’t notice her on his way out of the storage room, leaving her to explore it as she pleased, unobserved.
The pod was partially dismantled, with all of the grace of a twelve-year-old dismantling a microwave, but it was reparable. More importantly, being in pieces meant that it was entirely offline, rather than in sleep mode, which possibly meant that Vivienne could wake it back up. Stealing a serviceable space suit would be easy compared to smuggling the pod into a hiding spot where she would be able to work on fixing it.
The possibility of escaping was right in front of her, and yet she found herself feeling conflicted.
She backed away from the pod and sat down cross-legged on the floor, her hands resting in her lap and her gaze locked on the pod.
It would take work and a near psychotic amount of luck, but the means to go home was in front of her.
But did she really want to?
She knew what sort of organization she had been working for. If she just crashed back down on Earth after they had clearly and purposefully abandoned her, they weren’t going to just let her go about her business and live a quiet life.
They would never leave her alone. They would never let her live peacefully. They would make her life miserable in a trillion tiny ways until she agreed to just let them do whatever they wanted with her.
Que, as much of an asshole as he could be, was at least straightforward. And as things were going, he didn’t seem to want to make life unpleasant for her. Not anymore, at least. And it was that thought that left Vivienne feeling so conflicted.
She pushed herself back up to her feet and tore her gaze away from the pod. She needed to think. Or at least, she needed to distract herself. She bolted out of the storage room, and she composed herself as best she could so that when she found someone else, she didn’t look freaked out when she asked, “Where’s Que?”
He gave her a baffled look, and Vivienne had to refrain from slapping herself. Right, of course. Most of them were still strangers to her. They didn’t know she called him that.
“Quenorhaymaiatnei,” she pronounced carefully. Good grief, why couldn’t he have a short name?
The man still seemed bemused, but he answered readily enough, “He’s finishing up on the shooting grounds. He should be back in his room in forty-five minutes or so.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “What are you doing back here?”
Rather than answer, Vivienne said, “Thanks!” and bolted down the hall.
By the time Que stepped into his room, Vivi
enne was sitting on the bed and staring at the door expectantly.
“About time,” she said flatly as he stepped into the room.
She didn’t even give him a chance to ask her what she was doing there before she was on her feet. She stepped up to him, pressing close, and with one hand behind his head, she pulled him down to her height and kissed him.
Que saw no need to argue with her.
For minutes they simply kissed, lips sliding against each other and hands exploring. It was almost entrancing, so Vivienne hardly realized she was unlacing Que’s shirt until she was pushing it off of his shoulders, or that he was sliding her shirt off in turn.