by J. S. Wayne
“Away from it all,” Merrick assured her as she sank into the soft, cream-colored leather of the cabin. Once she was secured, he leapt the side like a great cat bounding at its prey and landed precisely in the pilot’s seat. In seconds the repulsor-mag engines whirred as they came online and the canopy slid closed with a faint, sturdy clicking sound.
She didn’t question his intentions. Olivia had known Merrick since their youngest school days, and the two had alternately driven each other crazy and away in the way of all young children with an attraction to each other and an aversion to cooties. Between the birthday parties, the summertime camping trips, and the press of education together, she had learned there was one immutable fact in the universe.
Wherever she went, whatever she did, she could trust Merrick with her life.
He glanced over at her, his eyes glinting purple with the reflected glow of the holo displays. “We’re not going far. I found a new spot the other day I think you’ll appreciate.” He glanced down, moving his hand so close to her own she could feel the warmth of his skin. Stroking his finger over a smooth metal control in the center console caused the lid to pop up unexpectedly.
She peered inside and saw a green glass bottle reclining wrapped in a soft chamois towel.
“What is it?”
He grinned again. “It’s Merlot, imported from Terra. I thought we could have a toast and forget about work for a while.”
“Mmm…”
* * *
Nils Trelawney was not a man at peace.
As he left the DDC assembly chamber, his stomach knotted painfully. Of all the delegates, he had not expected Olivia to react so violently to the idea, never mind impugning the intentions of the Terrans in this matter. The difficulty lay in the fact that he could hardly outright gainsay her, because whether she or anyone else realized it, she was precisely correct in her assumption that the given reason was a smoke screen.
He hurried through the corridors, muttering greetings and trying to project an air of rushed, distracted introspection to fend off unnecessary conversation. There was only one person on Dusk he trusted to advise him in how best to deal with this matter.
Carefully, he avoided even thinking the name. Long-term exposure to magickstone had different effects for every person, and enhanced psionic capabilities such as the ability to overhear one’s thoughts were not unknown. Despite the fact he had been carefully trained in the skill of mental shielding, it would only take a single unguarded moment to compromise himself and his lover.
His heart felt oddly heavy in his chest, not in an emotional way, but as if his body was trying to warn him something was wrong and getting worse. He grimaced and massaged his left pectoral, trying to ease a cramp far beneath the surface of his skin. At the pace he was setting, it was no surprise at all that his lungs labored to extract enough oxygen from the air or that his temples pounded with the first twinges of a migraine. If all went well, his confidante would make him feel much, much better in only a very little time.
Despite his cardiopulmonary misgivings, parts nearer the equator twitched eagerly at the thought of what such “therapy” might entail.
At the door to his quarters, he touched the sequence of controls that unlocked the portal. It slid into the wall with a faint hiss, allowing him to peer into the darkness beyond.
In the silvery light from the corridor, he could just make out a form reclining on the bed. He smiled and stepped inside. The portal closed behind him, and he absently waved it locked.
“I am not at all pleased, Nils.”
He frowned. Of all the greetings he had anticipated, this was the one he’d most hoped he wouldn’t receive.
“She’s too smart,” the voice continued, muffled by a combination of the soft bedding and the fact the speaker’s face was turned away from him.
He didn’t need to ask who “she” was.
“What did you expect?” he demanded, his tone crackling with exasperation. “The story is too simple, too pat. Even a child of any intelligence whatsoever would suspect it, as I warned you previously.”
“So you did.” The figure turned toward him, evident only because of the rustling of bedclothes and because the light, chiming voice became clearer. “It’s not your fault, I suppose. We should have listened to you.”
“They do raise valid objections,” Trelawney noted. “We discussed the problem of moving that much matrix off-world before.”
“Let us worry about that, Nils,” the voice cooed reassuringly. “You have a headache, don’t you?”
He nodded ruefully. “Yeah, I sure the hell do.”
“Then come over here and let me make you feel better.”
With a smile he shucked off his black breechclout and let it fall to the floor. His servant, Sean, could see to it in the morning. For now he wanted the comfort of warm, soft heat, wet lips, and a loving touch.
As he eased onto the bed, his chest seized again. A low cry of distress whistled from his throat.
“Your chest hurts.”
It wasn’t a question. He gasped for breath as he nodded.
“I’ve enjoyed being your lover, Nils… but the time has come when I need a man who can attend to details properly. Olivia is a serious threat, protégé or not. If she derails this deal, we all can expect to have a lot to answer for both here and on Terra.” A warm hand glided up his back, pausing at the base of his skull.
“Farewell, lover.”
A sharp impact exploded between the top vertebra of his neck and the bottom of his skull. He had just enough time to register the sensation before his vision went white.
What the hell?
As the incandescent detonation before his eyes faded to black, he heard his lover whisper, “I am sorry. Goodbye, Ambassador.”
Then all pain, all feeling, all thought deserted him.
Peace descended at last on a curtain of perfect night.
* * *
The assassin emerged from the trance state shaking and feeling as if a few meals too many had been missed. Maintaining a convincing illusion through the use of telepathy and utilizing a weapon when necessary with telekinesis was a thoroughly exhausting exercise, but it did demonstrate one’s control and mastery of the magickal arts.
It was a pity that Trelawney had to die, and even more so that it had been impossible to commit the act in person. The lack of DNA or other physical evidence, however, made missing out on the small satisfaction of physically carrying out the execution a trade-off that was well worth the sacrifice.
The assassin stretched, smiling despite the hunger pangs clawing at a desperately empty stomach. And so the dominos fall…
Chapter Four
Merrick guided the hovercar down onto a small flat space between spires with a delicate touch. At the last moment, he pulled up slightly. The ’car touched down as light as puffblossom dust on the sandy surface.
“Are we here?”
He grinned. “We are.”
Popping the center console again, he pulled out the bottle of wine and two goblets constructed of smoked extruded plas, as well as an antique corkscrew. The same wine was available for much fewer credits in a vacutop bottle, but Merrick respected tradition, even if the simple addition of an old-style cork jacked up the price of the wine by twenty credits. Besides, he didn’t mind spending the extra on Olivia.
She clambered out of the cabin and landed on her feet in perfect silence. The only sounds were the whispering of the light breeze off the Boreal Ocean and the soft susurrus of the waves meeting the shore.
Merrick studied her as she peered around, delighted at the isolated spot. Her enthusiasm was written in every angle of her body, and she threw her arms up in pure exultation. The long, lean lines of her form, typical of humans born and raised in lower-than-Terra gravity, painted an enticing picture, all deep, soft shadows and delicate, swooping curves.
Astaroth burst over the top of the spire, its deep indigo light limning her body as if kissing her skin.
His thirst for wine abruptly abated. He sought other, more nourishing fare.
He opened his mouth to say as much, but Olivia wheeled and ran toward the isolated beach, apparently for the sheer pleasure of it. With a chuckle he hurried after her, lugging the wine and its various accoutrements as he went.
She ducked behind a smaller tower of rock and disappeared, outpacing him neatly. He snickered at the childish game.
“You want to play? I’m up for it,” he called.
The only response was her faint, bubbling laughter.
Thirty seconds later he pounded around the base of the tower, aiming in the direction he had last seen her heading. To his consternation, the beach appeared utterly deserted.
Thwap!
A dark something that seemed to be made of silk and possessed of a wholly improbable number of tentacles wrapped around his head, blinding and disorienting him. He reached up to pry off the entangling object, but with only one free hand he managed only to get himself further trapped.
Deliberately he set down the wine and accessories, determined to work through the problem slowly and methodically. He took a deep, calming breath, and drew in with it a familiar scent that drew moisture into his mouth and blood into his cock. Then he tugged at the obscuring cloth.
A soft hand reached into his loincloth and slid over his hardening shaft, derailing his concentration. He gasped as the hand cupped him, gliding over the engorged head in a way that made his toes curl.
The hot breeze tickled his skin as Olivia undid his loincloth, leaving him as nude as she was, clad in only boots. Compared to the moist, soft heat that enveloped his cock a moment later, the wind was no more than a spring zephyr.
Olivia swirled her tongue over the head of his cock, provoking another sharp inhalation of pleasure and need from him. Then she began to kiss her way down the shaft with wet little love-pecks, each new contact stiffening his flesh even more.
“Do you want me?”
“Yes.” He growled low from the pit of his stomach, his voice thick with lust.
He finally managed to detach her clothing from his head and tossed it aside. Without any warning, he pounced atop her lightly, driving her back and down into the soft sand. She whimpered as he straddled her, eyes huge and shining by Astaroth’s light.
He paused to think back and make sure he’d taken his contraceptive earlier in the evening. On Dusk, ensuring one’s partner could not accidentally get pregnant or wind up with a disease was very much the man’s problem. This principle of male responsibility was so much a part of the culture of Dusk that it was even encoded into law and the educational system, with boys receiving their first contraceptives around age thirteen to get them in the habit of taking it long before they were ready to begin having sex. Of course, the pills also had the advantage of boosting their metabolism and increasing lean muscle mass without the problematic physical and psychological side effects of anabolic steroids.
In his mind’s eye he saw the small blister pack with its red pill, the container of water, and the pill going down just before he left for the meeting.
Satisfied that he had attended to the business end of pleasure, he kissed Olivia deeply.
“Yes, I want you.”
She wriggled her hips under him suggestively.
“How do you want me?”
For answer he teased and kissed his way down her body, avoiding her breasts and the sensitive erogenous zones under her ribs and just above her thighs. “I want you wet, and aching, and hot, and begging for me,” he said, punctuating each adjective with another flick of his tongue over her skin. The little vixen had put on something that tasted very like vanilla in preparation for something of this sort, and the scent and taste of her sent his raging hormones into hyperdrive.
She sighed. “I’m so wet, Merrick. I want you so much.”
“I love you, Olivia,” he whispered. Without preamble, he stabbed his tongue deep into her pussy.
Olivia squealed. “I love you too!” she cried as she began to writhe in earnest under his lingual lash. She spread her legs as wide as she could so he would have ready access, hooking her slender ankles over his shoulders. He cupped his hands around her buttocks and pulled her in firmly, bathing himself in her delicate floral scent and light, salty flavor as he flicked his tongue over the recesses and crevices he knew gave her the most pleasure.
She opened to him fully as he ravished her flesh, crying out with unfettered delight as he located the perfect places to coerce more sensation from what he knew to be her already screaming nerve endings. Her cries built to a scream of pleasure as she climaxed, rewarding his eager mouth with a flood of nectar. He lapped it up avidly, trying to make sure his tongue touched as much of her as he could manage at once. The sensation must have been too much for Olivia, because she tangled her fingers behind his head and snapped her hips back and forth against his face. With another crystal-shattering shriek she exploded again, the spasms more powerful against his lips.
After a long moment, she pulled away. Pushing him onto his back, she straddled him. He groaned as she buried his rigid cock inside her. Her muscles cinched tight around him like a vise lined with warm, wet satin as she began to ride his cock the same way she’d fucked his face moments before. She moved gingerly at first, but quickly gained altitude and force as she crashed down onto him over and over again, adjusting slightly so a precise point inside her body scraped over the head of his cock, sending galvanic shocks of pleasure from his cock through his entire body.
As her erotic assault became more heated, he reached behind her, finding the spot on each hip where his hands rested most naturally. Taking a firm but gentle grip on the tailor-made handholds, he thrust upward, meeting her downward stroke and sending her back up his length again. The delightful, moist impact took his breath away for a half-second, just long enough for him to hit the warm sand beneath him and rebound. Again and again he collided into her, willing himself to become part of her, to mold himself around and inside her until they became one inseparable being breathing through two mouths and living with two wildly pumping hearts. With every stroke her downward strokes became more savage and animal, and he met her measure for measure, leaving behind the civilized human being to crawl into the refuge of the wild, determined craving to mate.
She threw her head back as she slammed down into the cradle of his hips one last time. With a long, low groan she came, baptizing his groin with her cleansing liquid fire. The spasms of her pussy against the head of his cock ignited his own crisis and he pressed against her once more as he erupted deep in her wetness. Her pussy twitched and clinched his length, demanding every drop of his come without mercy or thought.
Olivia gave one more triumphant cry as he shot into her and then seemed to melt in the afterglow, wilting gracefully onto his chest so her full breasts and erect nipples crushed softly against his skin. She pressed her lips to his, feeding him the soft salt flavor of the fine droplets of ocean spray mingled with the sharper, more immediate taste of her passion-sweat. He found, to his surprise, that he enjoyed the mixture immensely, and opened his lips wider to better savor this unexpected delight. Her tongue met his in luxuriant, leisurely warfare, and her hips lapped against his like wavelets on a placid, welcoming shore.
After an interminable time he felt himself grow hard within her tight sheath again, his balls complaining but his shaft determined to plunder her once more. As he thickened and swelled within the soft confines of her body, she sighed into his mouth.
Slowly, as if the movement caused her the same pain as losing a leg, she pulled away from his lips, leaving her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.
“More?”
For answer, he thrust upward again.
Olivia cried out in renewed ecstasy.
* * *
“Here are your orders. You are not to open them until we are out of Sol system.”
Lieutenant (junior grade) Sadaaqi spoke letter-perfect English, spiced with the lilting desert accent of h
is native land. The man’s swarthy skin flushed slightly above his dark, bushy beard. Pete got the distinct impression the other man would have given up his shot at Paradise to satisfy his curiosity about why this junior Marine officer had been dispatched out to the Rim.
To be honest, he would have liked more information about that himself. Neville had abruptly ended the interview, saying he had other business to attend to. The only thing the tight-lipped bastard would tell him was that he’d get full mission details on shipboard.
He grunted noncommittal thanks at the executive officer of the Fallujah and turned away, then turned back. “How long will it be until we hit Dusk?”
“We expect to make planetfall in thirteen days, three hours, twenty-six minutes, forty-one seconds.”
Pete raised an eyebrow. “Think you could be a little more vague?” he joked.
The Iraqi native’s face betrayed no emotion beyond a little more darkening of his complexion. “No, Captain. I do not,” he retorted stiffly.
“Okay. Sorry I asked. Look, which way’s my stateroom?”
Sadaaqi relaxed minutely. Most Naval types wouldn’t even have noticed the difference. “Your stateroom is two decks up, one corridor to the right, at the end of the corridor. We have given you diplomatic quarters, so you will have absolute privacy. Our orders are not to disturb you in any way until Ambassador Al-Aziz joins us on Unicron III. You may take meals in your stateroom or in the crew dining facility, whichever strikes your fancy. We have a senior warrant officer standing by with orders to accommodate you when necessary and leave you alone otherwise. You need only to input this code --” A slip of paper appeared in Sadaaqi’s dark hand with the suddenness of a meteor strike. He shoved it at Pete briskly. Somehow, he managed to cling to the paper without fumbling it. “-- And Warrant Kozlowski will see to your needs.”
Pete nodded approval. “Can you let Kozlowski know I’d like a couple of steaks in my stateroom? I have orders to read.”
The other officer stiffened, his face pinching in on itself as if a particularly severe cramp had just gripped his guts. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Captain. You see, I have sealed orders of my own to read. Just input the code and your request will route directly to Kozlowski.”