by Alana Khan
Reaching down, I catch her under her arms and scoop her up to lie on my stomach. Her oversized purple bathrobe has fallen off her shoulders, and we’re skin to skin.
She’s too sweet, too gentle, to tell me the truth—did what just happen revolt her? I’ll have to divine it from the look on her face. I inspect her closely, but she certainly doesn’t look disgusted. If I had to put a name on her expression, I’d have to say she’s pleased.
Opening her legs, she straddles me, pokes her face next to mine, and bestows on me one perfect kiss. “Did I make you feel good, Ar’Tok?”
“Silly Star. Does gravity keep us on the ground? Do our lungs need oxygen to breathe? Do the stars shine in the sky? That was a gift.” I kiss her back. My kisses may not be perfect like hers, but perhaps by their sheer number they make up for that fact.
She lazes a while in my arms. Neither of us can keep our hands off each other. Her palms move from clutching my cheeks to stroking my shoulders, to touching my cirr. My cirr, capable of being more demonstrative than the rest of me, stroke her as if she’s made of the finest clinadon and might break if not treated with the utmost care.
Star
I can’t count the number of times I’ve read about the act of taking a male’s member into your mouth. At first, I skipped those parts. Then I read them with a morbid fascination, like I read about the snake people of the Bremrin colony on Xenon’s third moon. It sounded repulsive.
Even over these last few days, as Ar’Tok and I began to explore each other’s bodies, I never allowed myself to imagine doing that to him.
But I feel so comfortable, I knew I could safely explore my urge with him. I knew he’d never pressure me if I wanted to stop in the middle. But the more I touched him, the more my mouth watered to taste him, to feel the intimacy of the caress, to both give and take pleasure from the experience.
“Tell me again,” I coax, wanting to hear one more time that I and I alone brought him pleasure.
“I never thought anything could feel that good, little Star. Your touch is magic.”
“So I could do that every day if I wanted?” I tease, knowing I’m giving him the opening to tease me right back.
“Oh, I don’t know if I could be so generous,” he says, his handsome face alight with a smile.
“I guess I’ll just have to learn how to beg.” I giggle, and his cirr fluff my hair in happy excitement.
After he exploded in my mouth—I can still taste the sweet spice of vanilla—his member became soft and disinterested. It’s poking my belly now, though, definitely attentive.
“I want to try the other thing,” I say, hoping he has ESP and can read my mind.
“It would kill me to hurt you,” his voice is so sweet and earnest.
“This position is perfect.” I’m dripping wet, my thighs slick with arousal from the act of giving him so much pleasure. I rearrange myself, my knees next to his hips, and nestle my slit on his hardness. Beginning a rhythm, I experience the immense pleasure of feeling the ultimate expression of his manhood touching my femininity.
“Let me be in charge, Ar’Tok. I’ll go at my own pace, stop if I need to. I know you, you won’t be angry if this doesn’t work. Right?”
He leans up to kiss my lips, then lies back with a groan of pleasure. My movements, as inexpert as they are, are driving us both to the brink of rapture.
“I could never be angry at you, Star.”
My juices have coated him, I’m desperate to feel him inside me. There will never be a better moment for this to happen. His hands are at my breasts, my nipples spearing his palms. The look in his eyes is so bright it’s as if he’s high on drugs, but he’s not. This is passion.
Sliding up, I try to align myself on him, but it’s only after his hands move to my hips, tipping me to the correct angle, that he breaches me.
A long, low moan escapes me. It’s animalistic. Almost a growl. Looking down, I see he’s barely inside me, less than his finger was earlier today, not even an inch. It’s beautiful, though. Primal. Having another person inside me like this—how two become one. The thought spurs me on and I slide lower.
As amazing as we look, coupling together, my lids slam closed so I can pay better attention to the feelings coursing and swirling inside me. It’s not pain, but there’s a delicious stretch and burn. I want more of it, so I lift up and slide down again, welcoming more of him inside me.
“Ar’Tok,” my voice is deep, raspy, almost masculine. I steal one more glance at us, where we’re connected. He’s almost half-buried inside me. Leaning forward, the tips of my breasts grazing his muscular chest, I find this angle works even better.
Working myself on him, I reach bottom. Overcome with emotion, I lean up to catch one last glance at his body and mine—joined. Then I still for a moment, noticing everything about this moment—our perfect union.
The sweet and spicy smell of him, his hard shoulders underneath my hands, the pleasant pain of him inside me, reminding me I’m all female and he’s all male. The way my body’s opened to him puts pressure on my clit, ramping up my arousal.
I finally get the courage to drag my eyes up so I can glimpse his face. His muscles are tight. I know it’s taking great effort to hold himself back from pounding into me. The invisible cords that connect us pull even tighter on my heart. This male is a gift.
I roll slowly to the side, making sure he follows with me. He’s on top of me now, his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t hurt me. But even with almost no pressure on me, there’s something about this position that makes me feel possessed, even more feminine.
Ensuring our gazes are connected, I tell him, “Love me.”
Something unleashes within him. I feel every one of his muscles spark to life. No longer willing to sit by and let me have control, he takes over. Still, his movements are slow, almost tentative. His gaze doesn’t leave mine as if he’s inspecting my expression for any discomfort.
Assured that all is well, his thrusts become more forceful. He’s fully in control, as if he owns me.
The feelings swirling through me are nothing like the build-up I experienced under my covers on the Misfit. Nor are they close to the explosions I felt when he brought me to completion on the Fool’s Errand by rubbing up against me. Those were like the drip of a faucet compared to a rushing waterfall. This is a pounding, whirling roiling tsunami of desperate desire.
The feelings are so strong, so powerful, I feel fearful for a moment. Wondering if I can control them. Then I lie back, grab his rock-hard shoulders, allow the center of my consciousness to focus on the territory between my legs, and let the arousal build. It folds in on itself, doubling, then doubling again until the need for release pounds through me with the force of a hurricane.
My orgasm whips through me, contracting deep in my belly and reverberating through every cell in my body. I feel my channel grip Ar’Tok’s thick cock. This reminds me how we’re joined, united, and connected in so many more ways than this—this physical union.
Looking into his face, a beautiful mask of pleasure, I grip his horns near his skull, hear his hiss of pleasure, then feel his body buck as he spills into me.
“Star,” he says during his bark of pleasure. “Star,” he repeats a moment later when his cirr reach for me, caressing my cheeks.
He tumbles next to me, surrounds me with a vise-like grip, and clutches me to him closely as if he’ll never let me get away. His purr is louder than I’ve ever heard it. I can feel the rumble through his chest announcing his happy contentment.
Noticing he’s still inside me, I marvel at our connection.
“How is my North Star?” he asks. “Does she ever get tired of leading the way in the entirely perfect direction?”
“Star is fine. Happy. Tired. Boneless. How’s my Ar’Tok?”
“Lucky.” His cirr are stroking me gently. “So lucky. The day I stumbled onto your signal on comms should be declared a galaxy-wide holiday.”
“Yes. They’ll celebrate Lucky D
ay far and wide. It will be second in importance only to Blessed Peace Day,” I joke.
Chapter Nine
Star
We dozed for a while last night after we made love, then grazed on the mystery food sitting under shiny domes near the door. After that, we laid in bed and drank blanquard out of our loving cup. Mom had taught me about toasts, which Ar’Tok had never heard of. He loved the idea and gave me endless toasts between endless kisses.
He told me his favorite spot on my body to kiss, although he made certain to warn me I couldn’t hold him to it—he might find a place he loved more. This he said while waggling both eyebrows and giving the V of my legs a searing look. But thus far, he tells me the sensitive spot behind my ear is his favorite.
Out of the dozens of toasts we made, my favorite was, ‘To my personal North Star, who will forever be a beacon to follow’.
When I roll out of bed, I’m immediately reminded of all the books I’ve read where a character gets a hangover. I’d never drunk liquor before, so this is another ‘first’ to add to the long list of firsts I’ve experienced in the last week.
Many of them are amazing— ‘stellar’ as it were. This hangover, on the other hand, goes on the bottom of the list.
“Ouch,” I moan as I tiptoe to the bathroom. My head pounds harder with every step I take.
Ladies, I comm them all, certainly there has to be an antidote for the swirling, drumming pain in my head. That blanquard will be the death of me. What makes the throbbing stop?
Water, says Anya.
How could anything as simple as water fix this level of agony?
Breakfast, says Brianna.
Ugh. She wants me to put food in my mouth? Is she crazy?
Axxios and Braxxus suggest you get some grunno brand analgesic, Brianna adds.
Chocolate, says Aerie. I heard antioxidants help. If not dark chocolate, try fruit, especially berries.
Chocolate might not help, but it couldn’t hurt. I eye the huge chocolate cake on the food cart. It’s still covered with flowers so perfect they could be real.
Tea, says Dahlia. I’ll order some up to your room. Tea, chocolate, berries, and grunno powder.
I ease onto the bed, not wanting the pounding to escalate, nor do I want to wake the handsome male drooling on the pillow. Why do I think everything he does is adorable?
His eyes flash open, he takes one look at me, then groans.
“Did you get mad at me in the middle of the night?” he murmurs through parched lips. “Did you beat my head with a chair leg?” His cirr cringe from his palms as he presses them to his head, as if they, too, can’t bear to be touched.
“On Earth, it’s called a hangover. It means you drank too much last night.”
“Gods! I think I need a doctor.”
“My head is pounding, too. I comm’d the other females, they recommended some home remedies. Someone should be knocking on the door any minute to administer the antidote. In the meantime, they said chocolate would help.”
We both eye the food cart longingly, but it’s five, maybe six feet away. Here it is, the moment of truth. After all those lovely toasts he made to me last night, does my male have what it takes to actually heave himself out of bed and make his way to get the cake?
Yes! He rolls, and lands on his feet, moaning as he goes. His cirr are stroking his head, trying to provide comfort as he steps gingerly to the cake. He snags it and two forks, pivots, and sets it in the middle of the bed.
Sweet! Room service chooses this moment to knock, so he only has to walk a few more steps to grab the delivery. A moment later, we’re toasting each other with grunno powder fizzing in glasses of water.
Ten minutes later, the pounding is down to a dull roar and I think I’m up for a little chocolate.
Those flowers weren’t real after all. They were just luscious piles of deliciousness in the form of the most gorgeous blooms from all over the galaxy.
I may have met my first member of the opposite sex other than my father only one week ago, but I realize I’m a dirty, dirty girl.
I flick the covers off Ar’Tok to see that although his head may be pounding in pain, his cock is up for anything. Swiping my fingers into the thickest part of the decoration, I paint the creamy frosting up and down his beckoning cock.
I crawl between his legs, make sure I have his full and complete attention, and suck the remainder of the rainbow of sweet color off my fingers. Naughty, wicked me takes her time sucking every digit clean, my head bobbing, my tongue swirling, until he groans.
“Oh, Ar’Tok,” I say with false concern. “Does your head hurt that bad? Should I let you go back to sleep?” I give him a flirty pout and wait for his response as I keep sucking my fingers even louder now.
“I’m less concerned about my throbbing head than I am about my cock. I wouldn’t want to get the sheets dirty.”
“You’re right. We wouldn’t want to be bad guests, would we?”
Grabbing the meat of his thighs, my thumbs mere inches from his balls, I ease down toward his straining cock so slowly I wonder if it will kill him. By the sheer intensity of his moan, you’d think this was a torture chamber, not a bedroom.
An hour later, our headaches are a thing of the past, the sheets are so smeared with frosting we strip the bed and roll them in a ball as discreetly as two debauched individuals can do, and we can’t wipe the satisfied smiles off our faces.
“You’re sure you don’t want to stay in our room all day?” Ar’Tok asks for the tenth time. “I’ve never been in a hotel before, but I think all we’d have to do is call the front desk, and they’ll bring us new sheets. I think Ergonn is paying them enough that they’ll even make our bed for us.”
“Crap. I forgot. We need to be at the warehouse at 1900 to meet Ergonn and check on the bots. We’re supposed to meet our gladiatorial guard in the grand foyer at 1815.”
“Remind me again what will happen if you don’t do this? Can’t we just wait until day seven?”
“If we’re not there on time, Mr. Hardass Cartel guy will think I’ve tricked him and am stealing his money. He’ll worry that the wrath of the entire Federation will be brought to bear on him. He will not only blame me, but he will blame every male and female on both of our ships. And he will punish them. And by punish, I mean kill.
“So we will be in the front hall at 1815, arrive at the warehouse at 1900, and I will do a thorough demonstration to assure him that this project is going well. We don’t want him to go postal.”
“What’s on our agenda?”
“Mount Kimanji.”
Ar’Tok
“What’s on Mount Kimanji? A zoo? A placid lake we can swim in? Native dancers?” I know I should have looked through all the brochures, but I’ve been preoccupied by my pretty companion.
“A mountain,” she answers sweetly.
“Yes, but what attractions?”
“The mountain.” Her brow furrows as if I’m dense.
“Mountains are beautiful from afar,” I tell her.
“We’re going to climb it.”
As a male who lived most of his life in a ten-by-ten cell, I spent many hours every day exercising. I invented a thousand ways to force my body to get stronger. That and reading were my only pastimes. I have no aversion to exertion, but climbing a mountain? And Star isn’t in great shape, living full time in space makes peoples’ muscles soft no matter how much they exercise.
“Let me make sure I’ve got this right. We’re on planet Paragon. Most people refer to it as the Pleasure Planet because it offers a multitude of enjoyments, and you want to huff and puff up a mountain?”
“It was on my bucket list.” She shrugs. “I already told all the females we’d be going today.”
I nod at her. “It was the shrug, Star. You got me with that adorable shrug. Climbing mountains it is. Only after you tell me what a bucket list is.”
“A list of things you want to do before you die.”
“Ah. I have a bucket list a mill
e long.” Although I must admit, many of them have been ticked off the list in the last few days. And her licking cake frosting off my cock? That wasn’t on the list—but it should have been.
An hoara later, after a quick stop at the hotel store to buy sturdy clothing, we’re hovering to our destination. It’s cool today. Although I lived in a cell that had windows to the open air three-hundred-seventy-six days a year no matter what the weather, Star insists we both buy yellow rain slickers. I have no complaints; it makes her look even prettier.
The closer we get to the mountain, the larger and more ominous it looks.