by Aguirre, Ann
“I’m a bad boy,” Snaps said again.
“You’re not.” She hugged him and rested her chin on top of his fuzzy head. “You’re a super-heroic boy. They just don’t know enough to appreciate you.”
“Don’t give up yet.” Zylar didn’t pause in petting her, and really, she sort of understood why Snaps rolled over and showed her his belly, because she wanted more of this, all over her body.
Stupid hormones.
For some reason, whenever she got really worked up emotionally, she immediately wanted sex, maybe for the endorphins to balance out the sadness. Most likely, Zylar would be baffled by that request since she suspected it wasn’t common, even among humans. Not that she’d ever asked anyone.
“Do you have a plan?” she asked.
“A glimmer of one. We’ll talk to Kurr first and go from there.” He hesitated, as if weighing whether he should go on.
“Be honest,” she prompted.
“Helix, enter privacy mode.”
“Initiating sound screens and disabling all audio capture. Privacy mode active.”
Beryl guessed that was to block any snooping tech that Ryzven might have deployed. Still, she glanced around and felt a frisson of anxiety. Was that asshole eavesdropping on us before?
“If things go badly, we’ll leave Barath together.”
She stared for a long moment. “You’d give up everything for me?”
“Without you, I have nothing anyway,” he said softly.
“That is a romantic statement,” Helix snapped, “but quite inaccurate. You have status in Kith B’alak, many material possessions, and a competent AI companion.”
Zylar hissed, probably annoyed at having his big declaration interrupted. “Helix, no verbal input.”
This AI doesn’t like me much.
“Understood.” Such a snippy tone.
Zylar turned to her and gently touched her cheek with the flat side of his claws. “If you will come with me, we can build a life anywhere. You’ve Chosen me. That’s enough. I don’t care what the Council says. You’re meant to be mine, and I’m meant to be yours.”
That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. Hoping he would understand the gesture, she raised his talons to her mouth and kissed the soft skin between, one of the rare spots where he could feel her brand of tenderness. His neck ruff flared, just a little, but enough for her to be sure that he liked it.
Beryl considered the offer. “I don’t want to run away. I don’t want you to become a fugitive for me. Are you allowed to choose exile freely?”
His answer came slow, as if he didn’t want to tell her. “Yes. They will not force me to become a drone, though if I stay, I must choose that path. If I go with you after a negative judgment has been made, I forfeit all status and belongings tied to Kith B’alak.”
Holy shit.
“They take all your stuff, and you have to give up your name?”
“I would be without kith in the universe, apart from you and Snaps.” His tone made Beryl understand that this was a hellish punishment for the Barathi, maybe akin to being shunned for those who were born Amish.
“Then that’s our last resort,” she said. “I don’t want that to happen to you, if there’s even a glimmer of hope. They haven’t disqualified us yet.”
“You understand that leaving with me…after, means I will not have my own ship. They will take Helix as well, leaving me only enough for us to book to book passage off-world, but we won’t have income or anywhere to live—”
“I don’t give a shit what you have,” Beryl cut in. “I want to spend my life with you, not your stuff. You’re smart. I’m sure you can find work, and I’ll do my best too. You said I might be able to get a job looking after alien kids on that station, right? We’ll be okay if we have each other.”
Dammit, I’m going to cry again.
She blinked several times, trying to hold the tears back, and Zylar reached for her. “This is the hug you taught me before, yes? I am so thankful for you. I have no words to express how much you mean to me.”
“What just you said did the job.” Beryl sniffed and wiped her eyes as Snaps tried to muscle into their cuddle.
For lovely, uncounted moments, she luxuriated in being close to the ones she loved most. Then Helix said, “You requested no verbal input, but I must inform you that two visitors are approaching your domicile.”
“Kurr and Catyr?” Zylar asked.
“Scanning. Identities confirmed. Admit the new arrivals?” Helix still sounded cranky.
Maybe change is hard for an AI? He had Zylar all to himself for a long-ass time.
“Yes, please. Thank you, Helix.”
Right, I need to treat Helix like a person.
Beryl added, “Thank you, Helix.”
Snaps seemed like he didn’t want to feel left out so he also said, “Thank you, Helix.”
“Obsequious behavior will not earn my favor,” Helix noted. “Opening the door now. Continue in privacy mode?”
“Yes, please.”
Beryl hurried to wash her face. There was no erasing the trace of tears completely, but since she was the only human, they probably wouldn’t know why her eyes looked red. Maybe they might not even notice, depending on what color spectrums they perceived. She had no clue how Kurr saw the world, and it wasn’t the sort of thing that Beryl knew how to ask, at least not politely. Hey, how do plants see? didn’t seem like the way to go.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” Kurr said, “but your cooperation is vital.”
Beryl glanced around and realized that the Greenspirit was talking to her. “Me? Why? What do you need me to do?” Then she paused, glancing at Catyr.
Kurr took the hint. “My Chosen is fully apprised of my intentions. He has agreed to assist in my efforts in exchange for my loyalty later.”
Catyr said, “I’m grateful to Kurr for Choosing me, as I lost my intended early on. If there’s even a small chance that Ryzven urged officials to deploy the Destroyer, after such a long span…if she died for that flavork’s entertainment, then there is nothing that would stop me from making him suffer.”
Clear enough.
“Then my question stands. How can I help?” She hoped they realized that any status she might have enjoyed in the early rounds was long gone, smeared away by Snaps in a few, terrifying seconds.
Kurr fluttered their fronds, then they all went up in a gesture that could only be assessed as commanding. “You will speak to Ryzven and beg him for mercy. Get close to him if you can. Pretend that you are forsaking Zylar and imply that I would like to do the same, that I regret Choosing Catyr. His ego will do the rest.”
Quickly she glanced at Zylar, trying to gauge how he took that request. His membrane didn’t even flicker. “If that’s the path to Ryzven’s destruction, so be it. I am not a good liar, but it will not require deception for me to react with grief and rage at the prospect of losing Beryl. In his presence, I will act as if she truly means to abandon me.”
Damn. Looks like it’s going down.
19
Zylar couldn’t rid himself of the fear that the pretense Kurr was asking Beryl to enact would become his new reality, a self-fulfilling prophecy. Perhaps it was only because he’d never kept anything for himself that Ryzven wanted. Just because it had never happened, that didn’t mean it never could.
Yet he ached over this request; both his hearts faltered at the thought of losing her.
It’s only for show, he told himself. Part of the game that Kurr had planned, though how they would get revenge by promising Ryzven what he wanted, Zylar had no idea.
Catyr didn’t seem to share his trepidation, but then, he hadn’t been living with Kurr. He had chosen them out of expedience, loss, and trepidation, much as Kurr had done with him. Therefore, their bond, as yet, was more driven by logic than emotion.
“Contact me when it’s done,” Kurr said in a cool tone.
Beryl nodded. “I’ll talk to Ryzven tomorrow.”
�
��Thank you. We should let you enjoy the remainder of your evening.” With that, Kurr and Catyr withdrew, leaving Zylar to feign a composure he didn’t feel.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Beryl hurried to him and wrapped her limbs about him in what she called a hug. If he shared her physiology, this would probably feel much better. As it was, he could only breathe in her familiar scent and touch her head-fur lightly.
“I know you’re scared,” she whispered. “I am too. There’s no way I want to encourage that flavork, but I have to do this for Kurr. I feel partially responsible for what happened to their Chosen. You get that, right?”
“I do.”
Unfortunately, understanding didn’t diminish the fear still growling in the back of his head like a cornered beast. In some ways, her proximity helped, but in others, it only triggered needs that she’d taught him how to answer. They absolutely shouldn’t touch each other that way until the decision came from the Council, but prudence had nothing to do with desire.
His thorax tingled as she took his claws, separated them, and used her eating part on the delicate skin between. Heat flushed through him, and he hissed, unable to stop the sound. He didn’t respond otherwise.
Beryl paused. “If you want me to stop, say so.”
“This feels…ill-advised, but I don’t want you to stop.”
“Why? Because things are uncertain right now?” With her soft grabbers, she traced the delicate skin between his claws, talking instead of tasting.
Zylar couldn’t respond in words.
“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving you, no matter what. At this point, it’s only a question of where we’ll be. Because as long as you want me, I’m with you.”
Nothing could have settled his mind as firmly as that declaration. He would absolutely leave Barath and start a new life with her elsewhere. If the Council succumbed to Ryzven’s venomous whispers, all that meant was that he’d pack up and go off-world. With Beryl. Life on Gravas Station might be difficult and financially challenging, but at least they would be together.
All at once, the sensations she was giving him hit in a powerful rush, and his body responded with a gush of pleasure. Unlike the other times she’d aroused him recently, he didn’t try to control the visible reaction. The plates parted to reveal his swollen sex, and she paused to show teeth.
She’s pleased. With me? Or with herself for creating this result?
Either way, he took her grabber in a possessive claw. “Helix, no contact in the sleeping room until I say otherwise.”
“You’ve never cut me off before,” the AI said in a cross tone.
Zylar ignored that. “Snaps, we need you to play in here for a while.”
The fur-person let out a heavy sigh. “It’s because I’m a bad dog.”
Beryl started to respond, but he tugged her into the next room and closed the door, cutting off whatever she might have said. “Snaps will be fine. Helix can keep him company while we…”
“Yes,” she said, seeming to catch his urgency. “I know I started this, but you just kind of took over, so I’m wondering if you had something specific in mind.”
“I want to make you quiver,” he said.
Mentally, he recreated the picture she made, sprawled against him, soft and pink and gasping at every touch. He didn’t have certain parts that she might find interesting, but she seemed to enjoy his claws well enough, as long as he was careful, and he enjoyed the challenge.
Her face flushed. In that moment, he realized she had colors too. They were just a bit more subtle than the ones the Barathi showed. Zylar decided he would like to make her glow even brighter, if that was possible.
“I’m good with that, but…orgasms tend to make me sleepy. Before, it seemed like you had energy to spare after you…finished.”
He processed that. She was talking about how she’d stroked him until he released his spermatophores.
“Yes, I will not be incapacitated. Does that mean you’d prefer to please me first?”
Beryl showed her teeth. “Unless you object.”
Heat spiked inside him, and he could feel the swelling, lubrication already beginning to glisten at the edges of his sex. Zylar flexed his claws.
“No objections” he managed.
“Then let’s get in the nest and—oh.” She bit down on her eating part. “I need to ask this first. Your…fluids didn’t irritate my skin, but do you think there would be any oral toxicity?”
At first, he had no idea why she’d ask that, and then he recalled his fleeting, deviant fantasy—of her doing that to his sex, as she had his fingers, spines, and neck ruff. He hissed, unable to verbalize a response, but he hurried to the next room to confirm what he hoped was true. The database had records of her scans, created to design a complete nutritional profile. Quickly, Zylar ran a cross-purpose search, and he almost whispered a thankful prayer when he saw the results.
It only took a short while, and Beryl was still waiting by the nest when he returned. “There’s no danger,” he said.
She studied him with an aspect that he could only describe as avid. “That’s the best news I’ve had all day.”
There was no need to urge him into the nest; he already had some idea of the exquisite pleasure that awaited him, and he settled back, feeling like the luckiest Barathi in the universe. He made room for her, and she crawled up toward him so slowly that he shivered from the torture of waiting to feel…something. Anything.
“Tell me if you don’t like it,” she whispered.
That was a null probability.
When she first touched his sex with the softness and heat of her mouth, he hissed. Nothing could have prepared him for how good it would feel, not even the incredible sensations she’d already given.
She paused long enough to say, “You probably don’t have words for what I’m doing. Try to listen without the translator.”
Lips. Tongue. Licking. Kissing.
She repeated those strange sounds and then showed him the congruent action, resulting in more drenching bliss, until he understood that she had lips—the outside of her eating part—and a tongue, inside, soft and pink, that she used on him with incredible dexterity.
One by one, she covered his sex with heat, until the pressure inside him built to unbearable levels. He would never be able to finish through this stimulation, but he didn’t want her to stop either, especially when she softly slid inside in teasing little pushes. Then it got even better when she used her grabbers in addition to her lips and tongue.
His entire body glowed with sensation, and he lost himself in the build. It didn’t even matter if he died, as long as she kept touching him. Zylar had no idea how he held still, but everything she did pushed him deeper into a state of wild arousal, until he could feel the lubricant trickling down.
Has anyone ever been this aroused and lived to tell of it?
He hissed in response when she somehow touched her tongue to the most sensitive part, and the caress became strange and deep and irresistible. In reaction, his seed burst spontaneously, everywhere, all at once, even where she wasn’t touching.
He hadn’t even known that was possible.
Knowing she liked this, he wrapped his limbs around her and pulled her close, rubbing his face against her head-fur. “You are a goddess,” he said.
“Wow. I guess you liked that. I like the way you taste, by the way.”
That…was a sensual shock to his already-dazed mind. “You do?”
“Definitely. I’ll be back for more.”
“More…”
“More of you.”
He should be satisfied, but the idea that she wanted to do…that again sent a shiver of pleasure through him. Now, he couldn’t imagine touching another Barathi like this, and he didn’t know if she’d become his idea of perfection or drive him beyond reason.
“I’ll look forward to that,” he said. “But now, it’s my turn to devour you.”
Beryl trusted Zylar completely, but she still quiver
ed a little with nerves.
There was just no way not to feel uneasy when he was about to use his mandible in ways nature never intended. But he nipped so gently, so carefully that the delicate little pinches felt good, just as he intended. He started on her throat, moved to her shoulders, and her reaction must have reassured him, because he gained confidence as she let out a moan.
When he got to her breasts, she was squirming. This wasn’t quite like being nibbled all over, but it felt fantastic in a way no human lover could approximate. He added tender scrapes with his talons, until she twisted with pleasure.
Then a thin prehensible filament flicked out and grazed her nipple. It wasn’t like a human tongue, and she imagined it might be used for other olfactory purposes, but right then, he used it with incredible dexterity, tugging gently on the tip of her breast.
Beryl quivered as he raked her skin with his talons. So careful, so retrained.
“You’re lubricating,” he observed, sounding pleased.
“Because it feels good.” It was hard to organize her scattered thoughts into words as he pressed lower, or rather, he lifted her with a seductive, intoxicating strength. On some level, she understood that she could be aroused by that display because she trusted he wouldn’t turn that power on her, only use it in her defense.
Beryl showed him how to make the most of his position when he hesitated—by draping her legs over his thorax. Slowly, he inched closer and tapped her clit with the tendril. Pure sensation spiked through her when he did it again. And again, starting a gentle rhythm that made her move her hips, craving more. The sensation was so light, such a tease, that tingles ran through her whole body. He was still touching her, scraping his claws lightly down her thigh.
“So responsive. Your whole body is showing me your soft colors.”
She felt the flush of arousal, and suddenly, what he was doing wasn’t enough. Lowering her legs, she pushed him back; his confusion showed in the flicker of his nictitating membrane.
“I want to try something…” The plates were still open since he’d climaxed recently, revealing his sex.