Chapter 6 – Private Lessons #2
I didn't feel warm; I was chilled all the way to my marrow, like I might never get warm again.
There was something wrong about this ship – something more than I could see at first glance.
Abayan creches were usually hundreds strong, I'd read, split into smaller factions.
Was this a splinter cell of some sort? A smaller group adrift from the rest of the house?
And if so, why were they here, in isolation on a ship that seemed to be on its last legs?
Most importantly, was it really any of my business? It wasn't as if I didn't have my own share of problems to deal with. It wasn't as if I could do anything to help anyway.
I gave Talvi another squeeze. "I've got to see Araxis.
We're going to do some training with swords.
And your Vivith is probably wondering where you are.
" I didn't add that I thought Vivith might not be pleased to know Talvi was hanging out with me; maybe they thought I was contagious, like some of whatever they seemed to instinctively dislike in me might rub off on their kid.
Really, though, there were worse influences. I tried to remind myself I had thick skin, and I didn't care what some abaya thought of me.
Talvi whined a little, upset at the idea of our adventure ending, but eventually I persuaded them that we needed to leave this dark, ominous space.
We carefully sealed it up behind us, hiding it away from the rest of the ship, and I could see how it would be almost impossible to find if you didn't know where the hatch was hidden.
I said goodbye to Talvi and pried their fingers off the hem of my sweater.
I found Araxis at the helm, flipping through starcharts with Evreni, who shot me a flat look over her shoulder as I approached.
I ducked my head in, and Araxis half-turned to look at me; unlike Evreni, he smiled.
"I'm headed down to warm up," I said. "Join me when you can."
I turned and left, not waiting for his response, all while wondering if I should broach any of this with him or if I should keep my mouth shut.
Wondering if this was something I could help with or if it was so entirely beyond my purview that I might get myself a one-way ticket out an airlock for prying into the creche's private business – where clearly the stakes were high in a way I couldn't grasp.
I didn't think he'd airlock me, and I wanted to know what was going on. Did I want that more than I wanted to shut my brain off and kiss Araxis against a wall?
Of course, I'd been a dancer in a marn den for a decade; if I'd learned anything from Alet Trident, it was that I shouldn't have to choose between getting information and having fun.
I'd figured out my approach by the time Araxis did join me, back in the draped pants and semi-sheer top from the other night, his crest pinned back in a higher and tighter shape than when I'd seen him on the bridge.
He inclined his head when we locked eyes, closing the door firmly behind us before tapping away on a panel set into the wall.
At once, the atmospheric controls rumbled on overhead.
Araxis turned, leaning against the door and studying me with his black eyes, bright with interest.
My mouth went a little dry, looking at him – the angle of his chin, the way he watched me through his eyelashes, the shape of his body beneath his shirt. I had questions for him, true, but I also very much wanted to tutor him like I'd been paid for, back at the den.
"So," I said, forcing my tone to a normal register despite how badly it wanted to dip low and sultry, "I have two swords.
I thought we could each take one and go from there?
I'd like to wrap the blades – they're sharp enough to hurt.
You saw the show, right, so you know that I cut a bunch of things first and…
" Then I danced around in an enticing manner, wiggling my ass.
I didn't need to add what the rest of the show looked like.
"There are practice blades, a few sets. Here." He paced across the room to a storage cupboard on one edge, and retrieved two sets of beautiful blades, their long handles dark green, the metal a gleaming bronze reserved for blades that had been dulled enough to make them safe for practice.
When I think back on this now, I'm struck by just how clueless I had to be to not wonder why he had practice blades on the creche's ship, why he knew exactly where they were, how they were so easy to retrieve.
Sword-dancing isn't incredibly common, and the blades are very particular.
But I didn't wonder; I didn't even pause.
I just set my blades aside, picked up a set from him, and continued on like the hapless idiot I am.
As I walked him through the basics of holding the blades, I noticed that the air in the room was decidedly warmer than it had been when I'd first entered.
I wasn't sure what to do with that realization: he wanted me to be comfortable; he wanted to, I don't know, take care of me in some way, which felt so strange and foreign that I couldn't let myself hold the thought because it threw me entirely off-balance.
Instead, I turned to showing him how to shift his balance for the sequences, and I did it like I would with any other student – which meant gently placing my hands on his hips, skimming the bottom of his elbow, brushing my fingers across his.
He made a soft sound of surprise when I first stepped behind him, eyes narrowing.
"Just let me show you," I said with my usual smile.
"It can be hard to get the rhythm right.
I'll show you how to stand and how to move your hands. Trust me."
He nodded, and I slid myself in close.
It was the only way I knew how to teach…
and I thought it might also help me fluster him in a way that would be useful when I started asking questions.
And from the way his breath had caught when one hand settled against the bottom of his rib cage, it seemed to be working.
I pressed my palm a little harder against him, the other hand moving to his opposite hip.
"Shift your weight like this. Yes, good.
" He was pliant against me, responding to the slightest bit of pressure.
If I pulled, would he press himself entirely against me?
Would he rock back into my hips? Would he come willingly?
My hands skimmed forward up his arms, my chest pressing against his back as I reached, and I leaned my mouth close to one pointed ear. "When you move forward, rotate your wrist like this – and then the other like this. Understand?"
Araxis's head was slightly tilted, so I could see the flick of his purple tongue against his bottom lip, just as I could smell his skin – the familiar smoke and spice that had carried me to sleep the past two nights.
I'd done this probably a hundred times in an environment that was a hell of a lot sexier.
But it was here, under the too-bright lights of the rapidly warming training room, that I felt for the first time like I might do something impulsive, that my control, my professional edge, was in danger of eroding under a sudden flare of want.
I never crossed the line until it was the right time, which had always been much later in the sequence of lessons: I had to keep clients on the edge for as long as possible.
The longer I worked with them, the better they paid – and the better the pay-off for them in the end too.
But here, with Araxis, my cock was already half-hard just from standing close to him, from the way he smelled, the way he seemed to fit against my body.
The last time I'd had a reaction totally beyond my control, so early in the process, was when I was a hell of a lot younger.
Something like embarrassment washed over me.
I was in control here, but I also desperately wanted to rock myself against him.
To run my hands down his chest, his stomach, to plunge them beneath the waist of his pants and to explore what I'd find there.
I wanted him so suddenly and with such ferocity that it almost hurt.
Maybe it was because I wanted him for myself, just because, instead of getting information for Alet Trident to sell or being paid so I could cover my costs for another week.
Though I wanted to know things as well, they were for me, and the bigger, brighter thing I wanted was to touch him.
To have him. To continue to crack through that careful composure until he came all the way undone.
Araxis's eyelashes fluttered, head turned so that my mouth rested against his pointed ear; his skin was flushed that gorgeous rosy pink.
I should touch him. The thought felt reckless, insistent, and my chest tightened.
I'd been standing flush against him for too long, my arms tucked against his, my hips snug against the curve of his ass.
This close, it was clear how different his crest was from human hair: long quills, white and tipped in black, that may have been hollow, woven in a lattice that was impossibly intricate and beautiful.
I could feel Araxis breathing hard against me, his chest rising and falling quickly as I stood against him.
"I understand." Araxis's voice was quiet, strained.
"Good." One hand dropped back, finding his hip again. If I pulled, he would follow, I was certain. If I shifted my hand forward, he would grind into my touch and I could have him.
But –
What was I doing? I knew better. I could do better. I was almost drunk with want. Selfish, greedy, voracious.
I took a breath, slow, trying to clear my head a bit, and shifted away. "Right." I took a step back, hands dropping away. I gave them a quick shake, my skin buzzing like a live wire. "Well, you can probably tell why these are usually private lessons." I laughed then, trying to make a joke of it.