7. The Pact
7
The Pact
T itan
I’m not certain how the little Earther grew on me in such a brief span. She’s an interesting combination of strength and gentleness. With her grit and determination, she’s surprised me at every turn. Even now, her hand is stroking my arm. It’s just meandering, not claiming ownership or promising more, just offering physical affection and support.
She’s going to die tomorrow. We both know it. She wanted a laser, but I doubt she knows how to use it even if she survives long enough to buy it. Even if she does, if it comes down to it, I’ll overpower her and take it. I hope it’s not me who has to do it. Surely someone else will take her out if she’s still alive when we get closer to the flag.
“Let’s give each other comfort, Xzavic.” Her deep-brown eyes are pretty, even in the dim light.
“We have no blanket. They’ll be watching.” I don’t want half the humanoid life-forms on the planet watching our coupling.
“I don’t care. Don’t we deserve some comfort amid all this shit? All this pain? I’ve been without anything good and decent for too long. I want this. That is, if you do too.” Her palm skates down my arm and she says, “Your skin is like suede.”
I lean in slowly, giving her all the time she needs to back out, but instead of pushing me away or telling me to stop, she inclines forward to meet me.
The kiss is awkward—it has every right to be. I imagine people are pouring credits into their accounts to keep watching, their gazes glued to their vid screens. I shut out that thought and focus on Blaze.
All it takes is the power of my mind to push everything away. No drones’ inhuman red eyes focused on us. No cold, hard floor. No dust or dirt or fear of intruders.
No one else in The Game can sneak up on us because their collars will kill them. As I circle my arm around her waist, I no longer notice the discomfort in my back. I wasn’t lying when I said my species heals quickly.
Now it’s just soft lips and the sound of her sigh, as if she’d been holding her breath for a while. She slings her leg over my thigh and nudges me even closer.
Before I can expel it, a thought of Mistress intrudes into my mind. What’s happening with Blaze is the opposite of that. It’s consensual, mutual… sensual. My cock is hard for her, pressing against her belly as if he doesn’t know it’s impolite.
Blaze’s little hands try to slide along my skin, but my back, across the shoulders and to the top of my ass are covered with plas-film. It’s a good thing my race has superior healing, or I would be incapacitated. Her palms retreat to my arms, then slide between us so they can trace the planes and angles of my belly.
Her little pink tongue slicks between my lips, then thrusts into my mouth. She’s cooler than me—her skin, her tongue, her palms. The taste of her mouth makes me hunger to sample lower.
She pulls away suddenly, her gaze flicking over my face.
“Let’s make an agreement,” she says. Her voice is staccato and urgent, as if it’s the most important thing she’ll ever say. “At some point tomorrow, the day after at the most, by necessity we become enemies. The pact? Tonight, we don’t mention it again. And tomorrow? We don’t mention this.”
She’s right. What we’re doing is messing with my mind already. Tomorrow will push me close to insanity with this between us.
I reach my hand out to shake, like she taught me in the holding area. She gives it one short, swift pump, then snakes her arm around my neck, pulls me close, and kisses me, hard. Our mouths come together as if it were a battle, with soft sighs and loud kisses.
My hands skim from her waist to her breasts, cupping them in my palms. Humans must be sensitive there because when I graze her nipples, she sucks in a quick intake of breath. I explore with presses and plucks until I learn what makes her gasp in pleasure, then replicate those actions when I lean to suckle with my mouth.
Her leg is still thrown over me. Our bodies are close, so it’s easy for her to slide against me and strike up a rhythm. Her skin, even her mouth, seems cooler than mine. But her xyzca , pressing against my thigh as she rides me, is hot as fire.
My cock jerks in anticipation. I can’t wait to slide into her.
Slipping my hand between us, I find the waistband of her pants, continue my path down the smooth skin of her belly, then slide my fingertips between her folds. She’s slick and hot and responsive, writhing to meet me. The scent of her arousal blooms all around us.
“Do you want more play?” I whisper, still aware we have an audience.
“I want more of you ,” her voice is firm, but her expression is soft, those brown eyes of hers eloquent in their desire.