Snowburn

by Frost, E J

  I return to Kez’s side. Smooth a fresh and much more powerful derm across the small of her back. That will give her some real pain relief. A bruise that bad won’t be healed in a day the way her eye will, but she’ll move a lot more easily in a couple of hours.

  The texture of her skin as I smooth on the derm catches my attention. She’s kitten-soft everywhere. Except her lower back. I push her black tank up, hold it between her shoulders as I survey the ruin of her back.

  A round burn scar craters her lower back. The scar’s recessed, with the knobs of her spine in low relief. The skin’s mottled, white and twisted. Shiny pink patches show where newskin grafts failed. I splay my hand above the scar. My fingers extend beyond the margins of the scar, but it’s as big as my palm. I run my hand over the scar and she shivers in her sleep. Still sensitive, even though it has to be a couple of years old.

  The NoBos caught her, her brother said. And barely left her alive. I’m surprised she survived. It’s the worst burn scar I’ve seen, and in a bad fucking spot. She’s lucky her spinal cord wasn’t damaged – or damaged beyond repair, more likely. For a moment I think maybe she couldn’t pay for decent treatment, but the graft scars put the lie to that faint hope. Her back was so badly damaged that even newskin couldn’t adhere. She had to grow a new hide on her own, while the damage to her spine healed. That’s why she spent a month in a regen tank.

  I take her top off slowly and climb into the bed with her. Tap the headboard console. The room goes so dark it could be Tol Seng at midnight. I gather her to my side and tuck the thermoblanket around her. Smooth it carefully over the terrible burn scar. Debate the least threatening position to be in when she wakes. As I’m debating, one of her hands steals across my chest. Settles in the hollow of my shoulder. She’s not awake, so she’s seeking comfort unconsciously. I give it to her. Cuddle her close. Cradle her head on my shoulder. Give her as much skin contact as I can. She sighs in her sleep and relaxes until she feels boneless against me.

  I close my eyes, relishing the feeling of her warm satin skin on mine, the sense of peace that washes over me as I hold her, safe in my bed, and finally let myself sleep.

  She begins to stir three hours later by the chrono in my eye. She snuffles in her sleep and cuddles closer. I roll the arm she’s got stretched across my chest so I can see the inside of her wrist. The darkness leeches the color out of the patches, but I can see they’re much paler than they were when I put them on. Spent. I peel them off and toss them onto the bedside table.

  “Where are we?” she whispers.

  I look down at the peaceful little face resting on my shoulder. Her good eye is closed. I flick the edge of the derm on her other eye. “I think this is done.”

  “Okay.” She snuffles and rubs her nose. I peel the derm off and flick it across the bed to join its mates on the table.

  “We’re at my place,” I say gently. Shift slightly to ease the pins and needles in the arm she’s been sleeping on. Stroke the soft, rounded shoulder that emerges from the blanket, and tug the edge of the blanket back over it. “Go back to sleep.”

  “I’m not tired,” she says, with a huge yawn. Her breath is sour. I reach over for the bulb of water on the bedside table.

  “Drink,” I tell her.

  “No more fluids. My bladder’s going to explode.”

  “Better than your veins collapsing.” I hold the bulb for her and she drinks. Puts her head back down on my shoulder after a couple of sips.

  “So I finally got inside.” She nuzzles my shoulder sleepily. “What does it look like? Is it all black and chrome?”

  Where’d she get that idea? I like wood – real wood with a grain I can see and feel – and soft fabrics. As different from the ceramsteel and neopoly of slam as possible. “Open your eyes.”

  She does, lifts her head and puts it back down with a snort. “I can’t see a thing. Why is it so dark in here?”

  “Didn’t want the light to wake you.”

  “Oh.” She rubs my chest. “Thank you.”

  “Go back to sleep.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Eleven fifteen.”

  “Mmm, that’s okay then.”

  “You got somewhere you need to be today?” ‘Cause I may have some objection to her spending the day anywhere but in my bed.

  She murmurs something unintelligible, already slipping back to sleep. After a few moments of deepening breathing, she rouses with a little jolt. “Where’s Ape?”

  “I dropped him back at your place.”

  “With our gear?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, that’s okay then.” She slides her leg across mine. Rubs her face in my shoulder. And immediately slides back into sleep.

  I smile into the darkness. Stroke the arm she’s stretched across my chest until I join her.

  The next time I wake – gently and without remembering any of my dreams – it’s after fifteen hundred. Six hours of sleep is enough, and besides, my bladder is demanding to be emptied and my stomach to be filled.

  I unstick myself carefully and slide out from under Kez, who doesn’t stir. She’s finally getting some deep sleep. Good. When I return, having taken care of one need and mulling through what I want to fill the other, the bedroom’s lit up like a nightclub. I cross the room quickly to the source of the lightshow: the bangle around Kez’s wrist. Several of the mirrors and beads are lit up. Her brother’s face shows on one of the mirrored panels. Annoying chimp. She needs her sleep.

  I slide my finger under the bangle, intending to silence the call. The whole thing’s elasticized and slides down her wrist when I hook my finger under it. I ease the straps off her wrist, carry it over to the pile of her clothes beside the bed, drop the bangle on her fatigues, then pick up her black tank and drape it over the bangle. With the bangle covered, the room darkens again. I check Kez. She’s still sleeping the sleep of the innocent and the just. I run my hand over her soft head, smooth her dreadlocks over the pillow, and leave her to sleep.

  My kitchen is disappointingly empty. I remember now that I’d intended to stop at the grocer on the way home last night, before Kez intercepted me. I tap on the kitchen interface and pull up the list I’ve compiled of local grocers who deliver. Scroll down to one I haven’t used before. Ordering from the same place. Overtipping the delivery ‘bot. Falling into patterns. That’s how you get caught. And I’ve got more incentive not to get caught now than ever.

  I tap in my order, confirm that I’ll be paying on delivery with hard credits, and wait for the acknowledgement to flash up on the screen. Ten minutes, it tells me. I make myself a cup of tea from native klee leaves while I wait for the groceries. I’ve had tea on a lot of different worlds. The crap they served on the Island was the worst. Looked like piss. Tasted like piss. Klee tea is a fuck of a lot nicer: aromatic and flavorful. I put out a second cup, measure two scoops of leaves, and leave it on the counter. Kez might like some tea when she wakes.

  I amble out to the deck. The deck is the reason I picked this place. It wraps around three sides of the house and overlooks the river to the east. With Kuseros’s rotation, that means the Twins set over the river every night. Sunset’s several hours off, but the view over the river is still fine. The binary paints the water silver and gold. The river’s stocked with Kuseros’s native fish, full of mercury and avoided by the Colonists. Occasionally one of them leaps after something skimming on the river’s surface. At night, the riverbanks are lit by the gleaming eyes of native predators coming to eat and drink.

  Nock City’s Coppertyne quarter is on the other side of the river. Mostly an artist’s colony with a few warehouses and industrial buildings. When I took this place, it faced an industrial warehouse, uglifying the view and reducing the rent. The warehouse has since come down and a collection of striped tents appeared about a month ago. I’m waiting to see what they become, but I’m betting on some kind of market when the hot, wet summer arrives.

  I toss the dregs of my tea off the deck
into the river. Check that the shock barrier I’ve put up to make sure nothing gets in from the river is working. I can see the faint ripple of the net about three meters out in the water. The wide berth the fish give it. Looks like it’s working just fine.

  I stroll back into the house to meet the delivery ‘bot.

  Chapter 9

  The house smells of ginger by the time I return to the bedroom. A good warm smell to compliment the warm fullness in my belly. One of the things I’ve liked most about the last few years has been feeding myself. Whatever I wanted. Whenever I wanted. I never much cared about food before slam. In the military, I ate whatever was served to me. It was fuel. In slam, I ate whatever I could get, usually not enough, and nothing very tasty.

  But as Marin’s ghost has taught me to appreciate sunsets and rainbows, she’s also fucked with my palate. Bland, tasteless grub no longer satisfies me. I’ve learned to cook in self-defense, and like everything else I’ve ever put my mind to, I’ve gotten good at it. I buy noodles from the place down the street when I’m in a hurry, and there’s a stall near the spaceport that sells the best flash in the known universe – I can’t pass that place without stopping for a bag of the fried, seasoned seaweed – but the rest of the time I cook for myself. Maybe I’ll cook for Kez when she wakes. She can buy me noodles another time.

  The bedroom’s still pitch black. I tap the door closed and let my eyes adjust. Kez is sprawled across the bed, one foot sticking out from under the blanket. I kneel next to the bed to admire her foot. Long and narrow, like her hands. There’s something on the sole, a stain against her pale skin, but it’s too dark for me to make out what it is.

  I skim one finger from her ankle to her thigh, pushing the blanket up, following the long line of her leg. Listen to her breathing change. She makes one of those soft, sexy noises women make as they wake. I let the blanket fall back. “Go back to sleep.”

  “I need Ralph,” she murmurs.

  “Yeah, he’s just coming to bed.” I shuck off the robe and loose pants I put on for the benefit of the neighbors, lift the covers and climb in next to her, stretching across her so I cover her body with mine. Her ass snugs right into my groin, a perfect fit. I’m careful not to touch her lower back as I sweep her dreadlocks out of the way and nuzzle the nape of her neck. “Nighty-night.”

  She rubs her ass against me. Reaches back and cups my hip to hold me tight against her. “I’m not tired.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” Right before she crashed for another five hours. I run my hand down the arm she’s got cradling her head. Her skin feels cool, slightly clammy. “Kez, are you cold?”

  She shrugs. “A little.”

  “How’s your gut? Still queasy?”

  “I’m not going to puke on your clock, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Not what I’m worried about. “Turn over for me.” I lift myself off her and tap the headboard control to let a little light into the room. She squints up at me as she rolls over, looking like a kitten rudely awoken from a nap. “Shocky kitten.”

  I cover her with the thermoblanket – which should have kept her warm but feels cool to the touch; I hardly ever use it, so maybe it’s broken – while I take her pulse. It’s strong and steady. Her pupils are dilated, but no more than usual when she’s with me. The blood has cleared out of her eye at least. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Achy.”

  With that bruise on her back, I’m not surprised. “Your mouth dry? D’you have a headache?”

  “No, just achy.” She takes my hand and guides it down to her groin. “Mostly here.”

  I tilt my head to the side and regard her. She blinks up at me with those wide, innocent kitten eyes. Definitely not the expression of someone about to die from shock. “Mostly there, huh?” I cup her through the blanket.

  She smiles and wriggles against my hand. “Yes.”

  “Dunno if I have a derm for that.”

  “I’m sure you have something that would make me feel better.” She gives me the full mischievous grin. That grin is becoming such a turn-on. I shake my head at her.

  “Sex is not recommended for shock.” I have to suppress a grin at her pout. “So if we’re gonna do this, there’ll have to be rules.”

  Her pupils dilate so widely even the low light must be painful. “Rules are good,” she breathes.

  Yeah, I figured. “Rule one, we need to elevate your arms above your head.” When she looks confused, I take her wrists and guide them over her head. She immediately grins. “Aids circulation,” I explain.

  She wriggles around until she’s got her head on a pillow and both arms draped above her head, wrists crossed close to the headboard. She grins up at me.

  “Now we need something to keep them there.” I reach over the side of the bed for the robe I dropped and pull the waist-tie out of its loops. Knot one end around her wrist, loop the tie through the ornamental scrolling of the headboard, and knot it around her other wrist. I leave enough play so she can move her arms a little, but she’ll be aware of the restraint while we’re fucking. “Rule two, dead puppies.”

  She nods eagerly. “I remember that rule.”

  “Rule three, no throwing up on me. If you feel sick, remember rule two.”

  She giggles. “I’m not going to throw up on you.”

  “Good.” I skim my hand down her body, pushing the blanket back. I’ll keep her warm from now on.

  “Oh,” she raises her head a little. “Could we have the lights off? They hurt my eyes.”

  That’s probably true, but it’s not the reason she wants the lights off. When I undressed her, I only noticed the scar on her back. But it’s not her only scar. In pulling down the blanket, I’ve uncovered others. There’s a long line across her ribs that looks like a knife slash. A few centimeters from where my hand has stopped, there’s a dark gouge on her inner thigh. I nod and tap the control on the headboard. I don’t need any light and I don’t want her to be self-conscious while we’re fucking.

  With the lights off, her pale skin glowing in my night vision, her hands captured and her body totally open to me, I explore her. I start at the bottom and work my way up. Stroke her smooth, hard ankles. Hook her feet over my shoulders so I can caress every silky centimeter of her legs. She bucks up against me, making soft, mewling sounds, trying to entice me to penetrate her. But I’m not giving it to her yet. Last time was rough and urgent. Now that we’re finally in a bed, I want to go slow. And I want to see if she’ll come this way, or if she’s wired so that only a hard fuck gets her off.

  I spread her legs, lift her knees so she’s cradling me as I lie across her, and kiss my way up her belly. She makes a tiny protest when I near the scar across her ribs. I trace it with my fingertips, then my mouth. It’s an old scar, recessed against her soft skin. I give it a final kiss. “I’ve got plenty of scars, too.”

  “On you they’re cool,” she whispers. “Mine are just ugly.”

  “Nothin’ here’s that’s ugly.” I run my hands down her body. Cup her hips and lean over her so I’m looking down into those gleaming eyes. “Nothin’ at all.”

  She lifts her head, catches at my chin with her mouth. “Please . . .”

  “Please what, kitten?”

  “Please, I want – please, I want you to fuck me.”

  I lift her hips against mine. Feel the wetness between her legs as I rub against her. “Language, kitten.”

  “Please, Snow . . .”

  “Patience.” I kiss her lightly, not wanting to put pressure on her split lip. Feel the cold metal of the ring through her septum brush my upper lip. I catch it between my teeth and give it a little tug. “What’s this good for?”

  “Wha-what?”

  I cup her cheek, roll her lower lip down with my thumb and touch the tip of her tongue with the pad of my finger. “Piercings here are good for sucking cock, or so I hear.” She doesn’t have one, for which I’m grateful. Metal against my dick reminds me of the rehab sessions in K-G. I
sit back and brush each of her little pink nipples in turn. Her breasts are small, round and so very sweet. “Piercings here feel good to the woman when you tug on ‘em.” I trail my middle finger down her abdomen until I reach her bare pudenda. I pinch each labia gently, then her clitoris. She bucks against my hand and moans. “Same here. So what’s the nose ring good for?”

  She tosses her head against the pillow. “Getting in the way when I blow my nose. But I like the way it looks.”

  I chuckle. “Maybe we can find a use for it.” I can’t imagine what at this moment – I’m a little distracted by what’s spread open before me – but I’ll think of something. I keep stroking her soft mons, unable to pull my hand away. Kez moans and rolls her hips under my hand. Nothing wrong with her reactions. She’ll come just fine from a slow, gentle fuck.

  I ease my iron grip on the little monster. He has her scent now, and is more than ready. I rub my head up and down her wet lips. Guide just my tip into her and rock slowly, in and out, in and out, until I’m all the way inside her. Her moans rise to gasps. I can feel her squeezing me, a gentle tugging that I wouldn’t be able to feel if I was moving more quickly. I let her body set the rhythm. Take her hips in my hands and push slowly in and out in time to her trembling contractions. She’s so warm and tight and wet. “Mmm, kitten.”

  “Oh, God, Snow . . .” she moans.

  “Yeah, you like that?” In and out, in and out. I slide my hand up to her soft little breast. Cup it in my palm. Tease her nipple with my fingers while I keep rocking inside her.

  “Snow!”

  “That’s it,” I whisper to her. Lean over to kiss her and see that she’s looking up at me with those wide eyes. She hasn’t closed her eyes. Hasn’t retreated into memory or imagination. “Kezra, you with me?” I know she is. She’s right with me in the moment. Feeling every centimeter as I slide into her. Squeezing me as I pull back out. I stretch myself across her, slide my arms under her shoulders and look down into her eyes as I fuck her.