Into the Stars

by Gwendolyn Field

I watch him as he sits back on his heels, still stiff but trying to catch his breath, and I lick his come from the top of my lip, surprisingly sweet. His shoulders are still so tense. I look down where he’s holding his cock and my eyes widen.

  Holy black hole…the base of his cock has expanded into a hard, thick ring, and it’s throbbing like a live thing. Stars alive…if he was inside of me, all the way…

  “I’m still coming,” he informs me gruffly. “It lasts at least ten minutes.”

  His eyes flutter closed as another spurt oozes out of his tip. Before he realizes what I’m doing, I crawl forward and get as close as I can to his crotch, looking up at him for permission. He eyes me suspiciously, and I dip my head to run my tongue along the engorged, tight base of his cock.

  His hand releases himself to grab my hair as he lets out another vehement string of curses. My mouth finds that solid ring of pulsating flesh and my tongue slides around it, suckling. His fists sting my scalp, pulling, but I don’t stop. I lick and suck, coming up to the tip of him and taking him as deep into my throat as I can, until he is lost to me.

  I swallow each spurt as it comes, and run my hands up and down his length, around his swollen base. His entire body is rigid, his head back and tendons out. For so long he comes apart, thrashing, groaning, heels digging into my bed, until he suddenly grasps my wrist tightly and speaks in a panting growl.

  “Enough.”

  He sits up and pushes to the end of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands as he catches his breath. I can’t help but feel as satisfied as a cat as I watch his back muscles flex with each breath under those thorny, thick tattoos. His head turns enough to catch me eyeing him, and he glowers.

  You’re welcome, I want to say, but I don’t.

  He stands with his back to me, and I can tell he’s shoving his manhood back into his pants. Then, without a backward glance, he strides out of my room.

  I fall back onto the bed, spent, a complete mess, my ass absolutely throbbing. It’s four in the morning, now, and I’m exhausted. I have to drag myself up to wipe the come from my cheek and neck, strip the sheets, and push them down the chute. I pull my ruined panties down my legs and leave them on the floor a moment as I push buttons for new bedding to come down.

  A whoosh behind me make me startle, and I turn, heart pounding, to see the captain taking in every inch of his surroundings. From the stripped bed to my ratty hair to my rumpled nightgown to the discarded underwear on the floor.

  I cross my arms, my skin flushing. “May I help you?”

  His hands clench into fists at his side as his eyes crash into mine. “Three in the fucking morning?”

  “I can’t help when he came to me,” I say, exasperated.

  “Well, are you all right?” he asks angrily.

  “Yes, as you can see, I’m quite fine.” I decide not to tell him parts of me are weeping.

  His jaw moves, as if he wants to say more or ask something, I don’t know.

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” I ask.

  “No.” He looks aside, giving a small scowl. “Hardly.”

  “Well, you should,” I say softly.

  He sniffs the air and won’t look at me. His eyebrows are pinched, as if he has a headache. I step toward him and he stiffens.

  “Turn around,” I tell him. I want to massage his shoulders.

  “Why?” His eyes narrow. “No.”

  “Just for a moment. Don’t be so suspicious.”

  Slowly, watching my eyes for as long as he can, he turns, and I’m faced with the brawn of his manly back. My hands rest on his shoulders and I have to use all of my might to press into his tight muscles from so far below. Normally I’d have him lying down.

  His knees practically buckle as he groans and reaches out to press his palms to the wall. His head drops as I kneed deeper. A full minute passes and I swear he quavers under my hands.

  “You’re filled with knots, Captain.”

  He turns abruptly and peers down at me. We’re so close. My eyes fly up to his.

  “I told you, I don’t need your services.”

  “I can help you,” I say. “Why won’t you let me? There’s no shame in a massage.”

  “Good night,” he says firmly. And he’s stiffer than ever as he turns from me and leaves, slapping the wall panel with force.

  Insolent, stubborn, foolish man! I rip my nightgown over my head as I stomp to the bathroom, my entire body, and even my heart, more tender than ever.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Because of the chef I don’t dare eat with the men anymore—I avoid the kitchen and dining area at all cost—but I crave the company of their friendship, so I attend sparring practices and hang out with them in the entertainment room after dinner before my work hours begin. I’ve come to know their senses of humor, whether dry, witty, or teasing. And I’ve learned to give it right back to them. We laugh a lot, and I often catch Captain Lexon watching our interactions with differing expressions—sometimes contentment, sometimes longing.

  I can’t help but to try to figure him out, no matter how much I tell myself to ignore him and not think about him. He’s a mystery that’s become somewhat of an obsession to solve. Deep down, I know he has an equal fascination for me, and I’m drawn to his guarded interest. Mostly I want to earn his trust. He needs to let down his guard and accept my help. If not sex, then he needs to allow my hands to work their magic on him. Captain Lexon is the most high strung, exhausted man I’ve ever met.

  My mind ponders him as I leave the entertainment room to prepare for Tiko’s visit this evening. Now that I’m not afraid of Yahni, I can freely walk the ship without worry. I’m passing the kitchen when the door slides open and the chef steps into my path, startling me. I put a hand to my chest and step back.

  “There she is,” he says with fake kindness.

  “Chef.” I nod. My heart is erratic and my stomach has soured at his nearness and attention. His eyes dart across my face, reading me.

  “I’m not allowed to receive your services,” he tells me in a low voice.

  I clench my hands and swallow to wet my dry throat, but no response comes to me.

  “You’re Mars humana,” he says. “You of all people understand the ways of our people and the reasons for the Nevesta-Vesto system. You understand our rules and the reasons for them.”

  Guilt floods me because he’s right. I do know. But we’re not on Mars, and on this ship the captain calls the shots. Although, I’m the one who said I didn’t want to service the chef again. I peer down at my feet.

  “He doesn’t have to know,” Chef whispers. “You could come to the kitchens.”

  “No.” I lift my eyes to his and try not to let my voice quaver. “I’m sorry, but it’s been decided.” My stomach twists and turns in the face of confrontation.

  “I’m a man,” he says through clenched teeth. “Just like them! How am I to work and focus when I’m not granted equal rights?”

  I swallow hard. “It’s only temporary—”

  “What kind of Nevesta are you? I’ll have you fired when we return!”

  “Is there a problem?” Captain Lexon’s deep voice makes us both jump and turn to face him at the end of the hall.

  The chef’s demeanor changes to demure in a split second. “Not at all, Captain. Just saying hello to the ship’s Nevesta. Reminiscing on the ways of Mars.”

  The captain eyes him skeptically and beckons me with a sharp movement of his head. I pass Chef without another glance, and don’t look back. When I get to Captain Lexon, I round the corner and stop, closing my eyes to take a deep breath. When I open them Lexon is standing close, peering down at me with open concern. Everything inside of me spins and softens.

  “I’m all right,” I assure him.

  “Please tell me you’re not having second thoughts.” His voice is rough.

  Guilt pinches me again, and I look away. Nothing disgusts me more than the thought of Chef touching me again. Even on Mars, if a Nevesta or Nevesto is
uncomfortable with a Vesto/Vesta, we can be relocated without question. Nobody is forced to be intimate with someone they don’t want.

  “I just feel bad that he’s stuck on this ship without another Nevesta option,” I admit.

  “It’s not your fault,” the captain tells me. “He knew exactly what he was getting into when he agreed to this position.”

  “I know. No second thoughts. Don’t worry about me.”

  His lips purse, but he doesn’t pry, just nods. My eyes roam his chest and strong arms, remembering what it felt like to be held by him when I was upset. I wish he’d do that again, but I know it was a fluke. He’ll never touch me again. He was feeling guilty at the time.

  My thoughts are interrupted by a blaring alarm, so loud I cover my ears. The captain’s eyes fly wide and he grasps my arm.

  “Get to your room and strap in! Now!” He gives me a light shove and I sprint. Shouts and pounding feet sound from the halls behind me as the men gather.

  My heart is in my throat when I get to my room and yank out the flight chair, strapping myself in with shaking hands. The alarm continues to screech, and muffled yelling of orders make their way through my closed door. I grip the seat, breathing hard and wondering what’s going on. I scream when the ship suddenly lurches to the side, gathering speed. And then rapid firing.

  Are we under fire? Great galaxy, help us.

  Gunfire near and far, bangs and whistles, explosions. My room has no windows for me to see the scene, but it sounds like a veritable warzone. A boom shakes the cabin, and I scream as the ship shudders. Knowing we could all be seconds from dying causes tears to spring from my eyes and roll down my face uncontrollably. I think of Mother and Sheralyn. I think of each soldier aboard—their smiles and passions—and I think of Captain Lexon, who will die without having had a measure of peace in months.

  He is my biggest regret. The one who won’t have me.

  I run out of tears and continue gripping the seat with my eyes shut, hoping, hoping, hoping we can survive whatever’s going on. When the blaring alarms stop, the abrupt quiet makes my eyes spring open to dart around the room. It’s so quiet. No yelling. Nothing. The ship has righted itself and is back to normal speed. I know I shouldn’t leave my seat, but I’m overcome by the fear that something’s happened to the men and I’m alone.

  I fumble for the seatbelt, my hand slipping twice before I’m able to unbuckle and open the door, running down the hall. The cockpit door slides open before I get to it, and Rawko rushes out. He sees me just as I plow into his arms, holding him tight. He holds me back and runs a strong hand down my hair, kissing my forehead.

  “We’re checking the perimeter. You should stay in your room, Rees.”

  Not a chance. “Is everyone okay? What happened?”

  His face is grave, pale. “We were attacked. Everyone’s okay.” He releases me, and I start to follow.

  “Reesa!” I spin to face Captain Lexon, who’s come from the cockpit with Devlar behind him. “What are you doing out here?” A rush of relief hits me at the sight of them.

  “I want to check on everyone.”

  “No, you need to—”

  I ignore him, running to catch up to Rawko. The captain curses behind me, but I don’t stop.

  Each of the men has a place to be if the ship is attacked. Each part of the ship, along with the underbelly, has gun stations. As we find each of the men, I rush to hug them. Every single one of them tells me I should be in my room, but not one of them turns down my hug. They all hold me, and I know they’d been scared too. Or, as scared as these men are able to get.

  We find Tripoli last and he picks me up off my feet. When he sets me down, he looks to Rawko for news.

  “Cargo side was hit,” Rawk tells him.

  Trip nods curtly. “I’ll suit up and check it out.”

  “You’re going out there?” I ask, panicking at the thought.

  Tripoli kisses me right on the mouth and winks. “I’m the mechanic, babe. I got this.” He jogs off, and Rawko and I follow.

  “He’ll be all right,” Rawko assures me. “Pressurized suit with two attachments to the ship.” Still, I hate the thought of any of them being out in the elements of space.

  When we get back to the cockpit, everyone but Tripoli is there talking to the captain.

  “…Belise fighters, two of them,” Captain Lexon is saying.

  “Man, how the fuck did they find us?” Tiko asks.

  All of the men shake their heads and peer around at each other.

  Devlar crosses his freckled, muscular arms. “The chances of them happening upon us in their fighter ships is a million to one. We’re not in a high traffic area. Nobody travels this part of the system unless they’re on mission. They had to know our coordinates.”

  “I checked our anti-tracking system an hour before they hit,” Milaz tells them. “No way they tracked us. We’re as tight as a fucking nun.” He glances at me. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

  I shrug, because I have no idea what a nun is.

  Captain Lexon pinches the skin between his eyes. “You all know the protocol. Everyone on board, as soon as Trip is done with his check.” His eyes hit mine with regret. “Even you, Reesa.”

  “What do I have to do?” I ask.

  “Lie detector,” Rawko tells me. “Someone on board narked.”

  My stomach turns and my head is light. None of these men could possibly have betrayed us. I cover my mouth at the very thought of it, because if someone let our coordinates slip, there would be no mercy.

  Captain Lexon focuses on Yahni, whose eyes are still alight with battle lust. “Go get the chef. He has to be there too.” Yahni looks pleased to be given the job, and I wonder how badly the chef will be manhandled.

  My insides are shivering as we wait. I’m silent, but the men each tell their viewpoint of the battle and what they saw, what they did, who they took out. The two vessels from Belie were smaller and faster, but ours is more powerful with precise, powerful rockets.

  Yahni’s face is tight when he runs up to us, shaking his head at Captain. “He’s not in the kitchen or his room.”

  The captain’s entire persona turns to steel. “Fuck. Everyone search!”

  Captain Lexon rushes to the wall panel in the cockpit and seconds later Tripoli appears in a space suit with the helmet under his arm. “Yes, sir?”

  “You haven’t gone out yet. Good. Check the cargo area for chef. He’s disappeared.”

  Trip’s dark eyes turn fierce. “Yes, sir.”

  The captain looks at me. “You’ll stay at my side.”

  I nod. My heart and nerves are shot. I can’t go back to my room and be alone.

  It feels like only a minute has passed when yells come from down the hall and the men are running. I hold my breath until they appear, Yahni dragging a flailing Chef. Tiko grabs his other arm.

  “Found him in the cargo area trying to get on an escape pod,” Tripoli says.

  Oh, my stars.

  The men drop Chef and form a circle around him. I can’t help but feel sorry for the poor fool there on the ground, too afraid to even stand. All he can do is stare around at the warriors, cowering.

  The captain’s voice is so deadly and cold when he speaks, that I step back, away from the circle. “Care to explain yourself?”

  “I—I th-thought the ship was going down,” he stutters. “I was j-just trying to save myself if…”

  “Is that the protocol?” Captain Lexon asks. “As worthless as you seem, I was assured you were a trained soldier. Do you run to the escape pods before given the escape command?” He towers over the man.

  “No! I panicked! I’ve never been in true combat. I’m sorry!”

  The men scoff at his cowardice.

  “Get on your feet,” the captain orders him. Chef wobbles to standing, and Captain Lexon points to the meeting room. “Everyone in there. Now. Let’s make this fast so Trip can check the ship.”

  I’ve never felt tension like what’s in the air
as the entire crew crams silently into the board room and sits. Devlar, the technician, pulls out kits for each person with tabs that stick to our temples and wrists, then he hits the wall screen and punches in codes for the lie detector system. Chef begins to whimper.

  “I can’t do this. My blood pressure’s too high!”

  Not a single person responds or acts as though they’ve heard him. Captain Lexon faces me and says in a low voice, “The moment the results are read, you are to return to your room and lock the doors until I contact you.”

  I try to swallow, but my throat is so dry. I manage a nod.

  “Please,” Chef begs. “I need to rest a moment to get my heart rate down, or the test won’t be accurate!”

  Captain Lexon pulls a gigantic, glinting knife from his waist and slams it into the table, making the chef wince. “Say another word. I’m begging you.” The knife sticks out, solidly planted in the table.

  Every single person is hooked up for the test. My heart is banging and I think of what the chef said. Will I seem guilty if I’m nervous? I can’t stop being nervous! But these tests are highly sensitive. Scientists have perfected them. A false positive is unheard of anymore…that we know of. They take into account that those being tested will not feel calm.

  Great galaxies. I close my eyes and blow out a long breath.

  As Devlar starts the test, we each tap our fingers to our thumbs for yes or no. I say no for every single question, paranoid that I’ll accidentally tap the wrong finger. At one point my eyes dart around the room to see the men stone faced, except Chef, who’s dripping with perspiration.

  At the end, my heart thumps so hard I think I might be sick. We stare at the screen as it repeats “Calculating Results.” And then a name appears in red with the word FAILED. Kevin Gulikson.

  What? I don’t know that name. But every fierce warrior face turns to Chef, his eyes unnaturally wide, and he holds up his hands.

  “I told you!” he cries. “The results are inaccurate! I’m not a traitor!”

  “Reesa, leave us.” The captain’s hand curls around his knife handle, and I jump up, my chair skidding. I race from the room, covering my ears when I hear screams, and I don’t stop until I’m locked in my own room. Tears sting my eyes as I slide down the wall, curling into a ball.