A Judas Kiss
H e was being seduced, no doubt.
The question was, would he fall for it?
Kisan spent the next few days mulling Samira’s invitation.
The idea of booking a private show felt indulgent, almost reckless.
Yet, every time he thought of her—her raw, husky voice, presence, and enigmatic smile— fokk , her pull.
Finally, unable to resist, he made discreet inquiries with Raza.
He did it in person, keen to find out what to expect.
The lake’s glow casts shifting patterns on CyVoda’s polished stone walls, making the cavern seem alive with quiet energy.
The hum of customers’ conversations mixed with the soft lapping of water and the strains of music drifting from hidden speakers.
Kisan reclined near the counter, his imposing frame cloaked in shadow. His green eyes scanned the room for the one individual who always seemed to know everything.
Raza was easy to spot, even in the vibrant chaos of CyVoda.
The Iccythrian owner leaned against the bar, his thick beard glittering with tiny jewels as he laughed with a pair of patrons.
Kisan waited until Raza finished his conversation, clasped his clients on their shoulders, and sent them on their way with another chuckle.
As soon as the gregarious Iccythrian turned, he spotted Kisan and spread his arms in welcome.
‘Kisan, my friend!’ the Raza said, his voice carrying across the bar like a gentle rumble of thunder. ‘What can I do for you tonight? Another whiskey? Perhaps a spa treatment?’
Kisan stepped closer, murmuring into the Ccyth’s ear. ‘I need to talk to you about one of your performers.’
Raza’s jeweled brow arched, a glimmer of curiosity lighting his eyes. ‘Ah. Let me guess—Samira.’
Kisan inclined his head. ‘She’s captivating.’
‘Also sensual as fokk , ay?’ Raza laughed, a deep, warm sound that echoed through the cavern. ‘She’s extraordinary.’
‘Who is she?’ the Rider asked, his tone blunt but not unkind.
The establishment owner’s jovial expression softened, his hand absently stroking the golden threads in his beard. ‘So you’re curious about her story. I can’t say much—Samira is a private woman. I can tell you this: she’s loyal, hardworking, and gifted beyond measure. She came to me as an exile, like many who find their way to CyVoda.’
‘Refugee?’ Kisan’s rasp carried a note of intrigue.
The bejeweled Ccyth nodded, the light from the lake reflecting in the gems on his face. ‘From a far-off planet. A beautiful place, by her account, ravaged by some catastrophic cataclysm. She doesn’t speak of it often, but I can tell it weighs on her.’
Kisan absorbed the information, his aqua eyes narrowing. ‘What kind of disaster?’
‘That, my friend, she hasn’t shared, and I won’t pry,’ Raza said, his undertone growing quieter. ‘I know that she has a strength about her—a resilience. Whatever happened to her world, she carries it with dignity. Though it’s shaped her, she doesn’t let it define her.’
The Guardian leaned against the bar, his jaw tightening. ‘You trust her?’
‘What’s to trust in this business?’ Raza replied, a touch of humor returning to his inflection. ‘She comes to work on time and dances. I pay for her talent. My former dancer Ma’Shella recommended her, then took off on holiday without giving any notice, claiming burnout. She insisted, via a holo message, that I give Samira her place here, and she’s more than earned it. So far, Samira hasn’t demanded extraordinary treatment or a wage hike like many of my past popular girls have done. Yet, I’ve raised her take because she’s - how do I put this? A woman of quiet power. A woman who can negotiate without uttering a word is formidable. The kind who’ll walk without hesitation if I do not pay her what she’s worth and more.’
The portrayal added more layers to the mystery of the woman occupying the Rider’s thoughts.
He hesitated for a moment. ‘I want to book her.’
Raza’s eyebrows lifted, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘A private show?’
Kisan gave a curt nod. ‘With discretion.’
‘Of course.’ the businessman’s grin widened. ‘She’s selective about exclusive bookings, but I’ll make it happen for you. You’re a valued client.’
Kisan met Raza’s gaze, his viridescent eyes steady. ‘ Sante .’
Raza clapped him on the shoulder, his hand heavy but comforting. ‘You’re a complicated man, Guardian, but you’ve got fantastic taste. The woman is a rare gem. Treat her well.’
The gregarious man left to make the arrangements, leaving Kisan in deep thought.
His eyes were toward the lake, and the glow of its surface reflected off his chiseled features.
The conversation had answered some questions but left many more swirling in his mind. Who was Samira?
What was the story behind the muted sadness in her eyes?
Why was he so fokkin ’ drawn to her?
He had no answers for now—only the anticipation of a private session with an intriguing woman to look forward to.
Kisan’s day began before artificial dawn broke across the moon planet’s towering domes.
Eden Guard HQ hummed with guards securing armor, charging power packs, and muttering quiet plans for the day.
Kisan moved through them like a shadow, strapping on his black tactical gear.
By mid-morning, the Rider was sprinting through the twisting alleys of the trade district, his boots pounding against slick synth-stone streets.
Ahead, a bootlegger darted between stalls, scattering startled vendors and leaving a trail of chaos.
Kisan vaulted over a fruit stand, the acrid scent of crushed citrus filling the air as he landed with catlike precision.
The smuggler made a desperate lunge for a hidden exit, but the Guardian was faster. He tackled the man into the dirt, pinning him without much effort.
‘You’ve got nowhere left to run,’ the meta Guardian growled, hauling the sputtering man to his feet.
The rest of the team cuffed him, their faces betraying relief at Kisan’s efficiency.
Sector V erupted into chaos at noon.
A water shortage had pushed tensions to their breaking point, turning the market square into a battleground.
Vendors and desperate residents clashed, shouts and cries reverberating off the surrounding buildings.
The meta man waded into the fray, his towering frame commanding attention. ‘Enough!’ he roared, his voice slicing through the noise like a blade.
He grabbed two brawlers by their collars, lifting them as though they weighed nothing. When a bottle arced through the air toward him, Kisan caught it with a gloved hand, the glass shattering harmlessly.
The crowd stilled, their fury replaced by wary silence.
For the next hour, he mediated the brawl, his patience stretched thin but his purpose unyielding. By the time the market had calmed, sweat clung to his skin beneath his synth armor, and his voice was muted and hoarse due to overuse.
Late afternoon brought a call to the industrial sector, where a malfunctioning loading mech had gone berserk.
Its hydraulic arms smashed through crates and walls, its screeching enough to set teeth on edge.
Kisan moved in with calculated precision, his luminous aqua eyes analyzing the mech’s erratic movements. Timing his approach, he lunged forward with a crackling stun baton, jamming it into the control panel.
A surge of energy rippled through the machine, freezing it mid-swing before it collapsed into a heap of smoking metal.
‘You’re welcome,’ the Rider muttered to the foreman, brushing the soot from his gloves as the workers stared at him in astonishment.
When he returned home, his muscles ached, his mind weary of the day’s events.
He stripped off his gear, his thoughts turning to the evening ahead.
As he showered and dressed, his soul jolted in anticipation, then headed downstairs to flag a fly-cab to CyVoda.
He stepped into the restricted area reserved for Samira’s private performance, flooded with expectation and trepidation.
An electric privacy barrier domed the pool, encapsulating them in a bubble of discretion where no other patrons could see or penetrate.
The attendants invited Kisan to the pool, and he did, shedding his robe and slipping into the warm water.
Damn, it was liberating, renewing, and freakin’ refreshing.
When he emerged from the surface, he found Samira at the edge of the lake, her hair cascading over her shoulders, her silver-gold eyes fixed on him.
Once more, his entire soul lurched.
She stepped onto the water, her movements deliberate, and began her dance.
It was unlike anything he’d seen before.
Her control over her element was absolute, rising and falling in perfect harmony with her body.
She moved closer, the spirals of liquid narrowing around them until she was only a few feet away.
Staring at him with those beautiful big eyes.
His heart throbbed again.
Fokk , she was freakin’ alluring.
Raking his eyes over her from head to toe, he raised his chin.
She didn’t react, keeping her gaze on him.
He pushed forward and tread water.
Letting her come to him. Desire churned through him, his entire body pulsing.
With a sigh, she glided closer, the swell of her tits touching his chest.
He gritted his jaw, exerting as much control as possible, throbbing so hard he thought he’d explode.
She wrapped her limbs and encircled him, her hands cradling his head, forehead on his.
Fokk , ‘twas a raw, rare, intimate connection that sent sensations spiraling through his frame.
He shook at the intensity and reciprocated, letting his hands slide around her back to pull her close. She buried her face in his neck, her taut body nestled to his, her soft breath on his cheek.
He grunted as a wave of unadulterated and utter protectiveness came over him.
She pulled back and gave him a gentle smile, and at that moment, Kisan was hooked, blown away.
In seconds she was sucking, twisting, and grinding her body, pressing it to his.
She nibbled his ear, tongued the nape of his neck, and flicked his nipples.
When her light touch eased past his chest, lower to his tummy, past the band of his shorts, and stroked his cock.
He bucked and almost came.
She parted her thighs and rose, buoyant in the water, her hips above his.
Her deft fingers guided his hand past her barely there swimsuit into her wetness.
For a second, his hands gripped her waist, stilling her.
His eyes asked a question.
She nodded and widened her thighs.
Giving him bare access to her.
Offering him with maximum purchase, she arched her back, offering his lips access to her tits. Sucking hard on her pebbled nipples, his fingers working her clit, he almost came, almost fell into bliss.
The world faded, leaving his groans, her exhalation, and the glow of the water surrounding them.
He lifted his head, and her silver-aqua eyes held his, their intensity scorching him.
Their mouths met in a collision of desire and unspoken emotion, a moment both inevitable and completely consuming.
Kisan’s inhalation caught as her warmth surrounded him, her lips tender and inviting against his own.
Her hands slid over the solid plane of his rib cage, fingers exploring the ridges of muscle and the undulating ink of his tattoos. Her palms brushed the intricate patterns, their glow subtle.
She lingered on the tiny black, obsidian-like jewelry embedded into his skin, shifting along his chest, shoulders, and arms.
The dynamic energy that pulsed beneath his dermis responded to her touch, sending ripples of warmth coursing through him.
He experienced the connection as if her fingertips were tracing the very essence of who he was.
Kisan’s world shrank to the sensation of her, the ache that had taken up permanent residence in his soul easing with every press of her body against his.
Her curves fit his hardness like they had been carved from the same stone, a perfect counterbalance to his edges.
The scent of her—clean, fresh, with a trace of the lake—wrapped around him, grounding him in this moment.
The smooth warmth under his palms sent a rush of pleasure through him, igniting a fire he hadn’t dared to stoke for far too long.
Her body molded to his, her movements natural and uninhibited, as though she had no apprehension of him, no hesitation about his past.
The joy of it was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t just touching her—he was being touched in return, not with judgment or fear but with care, desire, and an emotion dangerously close to trust.
His cock jumped, even as his heart lurched.
Samira shifted, her grasp sliding up to frame his face. Her thumbs brushed the roughness of his jawline, her touch gentle but sure.
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his.
Kisan’s soul laid bare under her gaze, as if she’d sight of every scar, each failure, and fokk , still chose him.
‘You’re beautiful,’ she whispered, her voice just audible, heavy with a pure honesty that struck deep.
He swallowed hard, his hands tightening on her waist. ‘You mean that?’
Her mouth curved into a small smile, her fingers tracing the cleft of his chin. ‘ Naam , I do.’
His throat tightened, the familiar sting of shame rising before her words cut through it like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
‘Despite your walls, your reticence, your mask, you are more man than I’ve ever encountered,’ she murmured.
Her utterance shattered the last of his defenses, and he pulled her closer, his lips finding hers again with a renewed intensity.
One hand stroked her tits, thumbed her nipple, the other flicked her clit.
Her hands moved again, gliding over his shoulders, tracing the curve of his neck and tangling in his damp hair.
Tracing his muscles, falling to between their bodies and stroking his thickened shaft.
His head fell back as he groaned.
Fokk , what had he done to deserve her?
At this moment, he almost believed that she saw him—not as the man he was, but as the man he was capable of being.
That was enough.
Kisan’s senses came alive, each nerve ending alight as though she had ignited them with a flaming match.
Hell, he was ready to go for hours like this, to fokk her, to have her gliding over him.
His skin jewels pulsed, sending pleasure all over his body, and he was about to shift inside her when an unusual radiance began to emanate from her, a delicate blue light that pulsed beneath her epidermis.
An alien sensation, cold and serpentine, snaked through his veins without warning.
Her husky intonation glided over his awareness. ‘Please, Kisan, forgive me for what I am about to do. It’s not my intent to hurt you, but I am compelled to take slight advantage of you.’