Chapter 10 – Reverie #2
Sure, I'd just focus on stabbing people in the sexy bits. Honestly, it was my best strategy yet, but given that I hadn't taken any time to actually make a fucking plan in the faint hope of surviving, that was the lowest possible bar.
The door to the training room opened, and I glanced as Araxis walked in. In an instant, I could see something was off: the line of his shoulders was tight, his skin matte white without any of the iridescence I expected when he was in a good mood.
I forcibly shoved away any thoughts of what was next for me, and I turned instead to him.
My chest was heaving from the hard and fast sequences, and maybe from the frantic way I'd been running through the familiar movements.
I swiped at my forehead, pushing my damp curls from my skin. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," he said, tone flat; there was an irritated subvocal humming beneath the word.
I chewed on my lip, watching him as he paced to the far corner of the room, where the heavy bag was hanging from the ceiling.
I'd used a punching bag once when I had ambitions of being a pit fighter on the side to make a few more credits.
It hadn't gone particularly well – I hadn't made it through the first warm-up bout – and I'd had to visit the shady medical clinic three neighbourhoods over to fix my broken nose and get my teeth fixed.
I shifted from the centre of the room, going to place the blades against the wall.
Araxis twisted the bag, some mechanism overhead unlocking so that the hook could move on a track on the metal and girder ceiling.
When he said nothing, I knew I had to try and get him back on even footing so that we could enjoy the remainder of our time together.
He didn't know about the ticking clock, but I sure as hell did.
I pitched my voice just right, bright and easy and warm, which almost always worked when I needed it to.
"Are you sure you're alright? Because when I left you, you were in a pretty good mood, so either someone has gone and ruined a perfectly good afterglow or I've accidentally done something to insult you, your creche, and every one of your ancestors. Was it the sweater?"
His black stare flicked over to me. "What sweater."
Oh, he was mad. It was bad when the questions weren't questions; I'd learned that a long time ago with Alet Trident.
"Oh, well," I swiped at my hair some more, my fingers getting tangled in some curls that had dried funny.
"You said we were trading, so I know I owe you that pink and black monstrosity.
I put it on your bed." Did I make a joke about he could cuddle up with it while he jerked off, thinking of me? It didn't seem like the time.
Araxis stared at me for a moment, head tilting, and then he exhaled, the lines of his face softening.
"My apologies, Sashen. It is the former, not the latter: Vivith came to speak with me and they were particularly unhelpful this morning.
" He finished moving the bag to the centre of the room, muttering something sharp under his breath in abayan.
Another tally for the 'anti-Vivith' column, which was a breakaway winner compared to the 'pro-' and 'neutral-on-' columns.
I wandered over as Araxis manoeuvred the bag into place, a click sounding overhead as it locked into position. His back was to me, shoulders still tight, braid a bit mussed and imperfect from last night and, presumably, from our time in the shower this morning.
"Can I touch you?" I asked. He half-turned to study me, eyes narrowing with confusion, but he nodded anyway.
At once, I reached for him and folded him into a hug, tucking my arms around him and pulling him hard against my chest. I let my head drop to his shoulder, nestling there against his skin and inhaling deeply; the smell of smoke and spice filled my lungs, and I breathed against him, deep and even.
For a long moment, his hands were still by his side, but then his arms shifted. His palms settled on my waist, fingers digging in.
"Sorry you had a difficult morning," I murmured against his skin, stroking gently with my fingers.
A rumble from deep in his chest buzzed against my skin, and the tension in his body drained away, leaving him lax and pliant against me.
His weight leaned on me a little more fully, and I wondered if he could feel the way my lips curved into a smile against his skin.
"The first part was not difficult," he said against me.
"Was it nice?" I joked, squeezing him a little harder.
He exhaled. "Hm, it was adequate." And then he trilled, jostling me slightly so that I had to fight to keep my balance. "Nice is an insufficient descriptor, Sashen. You know that."
I grinned, glad he couldn't see the dumb expression on my face or how I was flushing. "Yeah, I was there," I said, and then I pulled away, just far enough so that I could look at him. "Did you want to talk it out, what happened with Vivith, or did you want to hit things?"
He blinked at me with those pretty eyes. One of his hands drifted downwards, palming the curve of my ass. "Is there a third option?" he asked innocently.
Who was voracious now? "That depends. Does the door lock? Because there are some very curious children somewhere on this ship, and I'm not interested in scarring them for life."
He grinned in response and strode over to the door, which did, indeed, lock, and then I showed him exactly what I'd been thinking about doing to him in the training room for days and days.
He did eventually walk me through how to throw a punch and, more importantly, how to use my elbows (he described them as anatomically impressive).
We never did talk about what Vivith had said or how they'd upset him, and when we fell into bed that night – his bed again, and he made a whole production of putting the note in a place of honour on his desk and shrugging on the hideous sweater that looked, impossibly, less hideous on him – I didn't wonder once what they had said to Araxis to get him so off balance.
I just luxuriated in the heat of his body, the smell of his skin, the feel of him moving against me.
I let my need to be held, to be touched gently, to be cherished blot out any questions I should have thought to ask.
Given what a nightmare (ha) it had been trying to get sleep on this ship during the first week, it was a shock how well I slept on the remaining nights on Creche Thiel's ship, tucked against Araxis and cocooned in his nest of pillows and soft blankets.
It wasn't just that it was easy to drop off, sated and warm, or that I didn't have a single nightmare by his side: I actually slept well and woke each morning feeling – I don't know, nourished and restored.
Made new, like each night I spent with him was clearing off a balance I'd been running into the red for the past decade. Like I had a fresh start with him.
I'd never actually slept with anyone before, curled up together all night, and apparently it was something my body had been craving without my mind ever becoming aware that I was chasing that level of closeness. That it was intimacy and tenderness that I needed to feel whole again.
It also helped that we were training a lot and fucking a lot, and he was feeding me well. My body had never been so well-tended. Or the rest of me either, if I was being honest with myself.
I slept deeply and soundly, warm against Araxis, as the days slipped by despite how desperately I wished for them to hold still.
Even as our arrival in the Thenat cluster grew closer, hour by hour, and the nights I had left on the ship dwindled down to only two – I knew because I couldn't stop myself from counting down, even when I didn't want to acknowledge pesky things like stardates or contractual obligations – falling asleep next to him was as easy as curling up in a sun spot.
Or what I imagined that was like, anyway.
I stirred once or twice during the night before my second last day on the ship, feeling the first ghost of anxiety flickering in me as Thenat-6 loomed larger in my subconscious mind.
Each time I drifted closer to wakefulness, Araxis's body was draped over mine, rumbling soothingly against my back, and each time it was the weight of him, his steady presence, that lulled me back under, that chased away the lingering spectre of my dark future.
The third time I woke was to the feeling of his fingers trailing, just barely, across the skin of my abdomen, such a delicate touch that it almost tickled.
My skin prickled with goosebumps, my breath catching in my throat as I blinked to consciousness; my cock was already hard.
The warm heat of Araxis's mouth pressed against the base of my neck – the flick of his tongue, the careful scrape of his teeth.
"You're awake," he murmured. I felt the words more than heard them.
His fingertips trailed across my hip bone, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
I didn't even try to stifle the pleased moan that slipped out when he bit down, mouth hot on the skin of my neck as his hips were nested tight against mine.
"Can I touch you?" he asked, tongue swiping the prickling skin where I was sure he'd just left teeth marks, scrapes embossed into my skin.
Something about that – thinking about the mark he'd left, how it would be clear and visible to anyone who looked today and in the days that followed, that he had claimed me as his no matter what his creche-mates thought of me – made my body throb; I wanted that, I wanted him.