124. Pan In
124
Pan In
W illow
“Nice of you to join us,” Zedd snarks as we arrive at one of the long tables they’ve set for the contestants tonight. “Is it just me,” Zedd looks coyly into the camera, “or are all Earthers chronically tardy?”
I slide into my chair, but Valor stands behind his and turns full circle. Slowly. I try to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head, but his hard-as-stone cock is still fully exposed, as are the beefy globes of his ass. That cock is… I don’t know what to say, although the word magnificent comes to mind.
It’s a gorgeous mottled blue/gray with two thick ridges under the head. With their magenta coloring, they stand out. And why not? They’re definitely something to be proud of.
My nostrils fill with the aroma of the first real food I’ve smelled in weeks, but it’s not the food that’s making my mouth water.
I worry as I wonder if Valor can only read my mind when I push a thought at him, or if he’s reading me now. I guess I shouldn’t fret. If he has eyes, he can see my hardened nipples from twenty paces, and if he has even an adequate sense of smell, he certainly scents my arousal.
He twists the waistband of his loincloth to cover himself, but he’s already accomplished what he was hoping for. When I glance at Zedd, her eyes are big as saucers and instead of her gaze being focused on the camera as it perpetually is, it’s fixated on her desk’s computer screen. I wonder if she’s watching Valor’s little show-and-tell session on perma-repeat.
I want a billion people watching us, he says, not realizing how disturbing that sounds to me. I want enough credits to heal Braveheart.
Me too, I say, as I think what a good male he is. A different male might want Braveheart dead because the two of them are vying for me. Braveheart has made no secret of his affection for me, and I’ve been open about my feelings for him.
This is going to be hard for you. What can I do to make it easier ? He asks after he sits and as he chews his first bite. I guess that’s another good thing about telepathy. The prohibition of talking with your mouth full is tossed out the window.
It’s a good question I have no answer for. Then it strikes me.
There’s an Earth word—foreplay. Usually it’s meant for touch to get a female in the mood, but we can do some of it here at the table.
Before I finish my description, he places his hand around me and ghosts his fingers across my shoulder.
Yes. That’s right. Little touches and pats and looks and words, I say.
He tugs me closer, then leans to press his lips to the top of my head.
Since that device was removed from my back, I’ve experienced interesting changes. Not only has my cock learned how to get hard, but my thoughts are different.
I glance at him to hear the rest of his story. For the swiftest moment, I’m struck by how handsome he is, and then I’m captured in his swirling blue of his gaze.
I’m no longer consumed with anger and revenge, although those things are always simmering in the background. I’m captivated by thoughts of you, Willow. Maybe I’m not a good male, because I don’t just think about how kind and smart and brave you are.
His voice lowers inside my head as if he’s about to let me in on a secret. I think about your body. I’ve caught glimpses of it when you change, but even when you’re fully clothed, the mere outline of your breasts through your clothing captures my every thought.
My cock is still hard as metal because of what I saw in the shower earlier. Should I tell you what it looked like to me?
I try to chew and swallow my bite of food because I’ll need the energy to compete tomorrow, but it tastes like sand.
Yes. Even in my head, my response sounds like a squeak.
He doesn’t answer right away, though. He scoops a perfect bite of food onto his fork with a little meat and veg dunked in just the right amount of gravy. Instead of bringing it to his own mouth, he conveys it to mine.
Eat, Willow. You’ll need your strength tomorrow. Never turn down an opportunity.
An opportunity to eat, I wonder, or an opportunity like what we’re going to share in our tent later.
This bite, because it was delivered by Valor, tastes delicious.
He uses the pad of his thumb to remove a drop of gravy from my lips. The soft drag of his flesh on mine, along with the open look of desire on his face, is perhaps the most sensual thing I’ve ever experienced. Desire zings through my body from my mouth to my nipples to my clit.
He knows! His nostrils flare and the slightest smile lifts his lips.
“As I was saying,” Zedd interrupts. “Just to make the rules perfectly clear. All members of a team must participate in each competition or the entire team will be disqualified.”
She’s on a floating holo-vid and even in space, the technology doesn’t allow her to see her audience. I don’t know how she does it, but it appears she’s looking straight at Valor and me.
I watch the scrolling totals at the bottom of the screen. Our team’s credits, simply notated by the color of our uniforms, haven’t budged since we left our tent despite Valor’s generous and prodigious display at the beginning of the meal.
We need that fucking medic , I seethe, the sexy mood completely broken.
Aye. May I touch you, Willow? Here? Now?
His third eye is swirling, changing from deep thunderstorm blue, his angry color, to the cerulean blues and violet purples that signify his affection for me.
I’ve already committed to do what it takes, Valor. Just keep talking inside my head. It will be like a tether to keep my hold on sanity.
He scoots his chair back and pulls me onto his lap, with both of us facing the table. He turns my head at an angle to feed me another bite, then kisses my lips.
This is the easy part, Willow. This isn’t how either of us wanted this to go, but you’re brave and you were right when you said we’re going to do what we must to keep the three of us alive.
He thumbs first one, then my other nipple through the barely there gauze of my tunic. I don’t know how he manages by this one small act to pull my attention from the millions of people watching and the gawking gaze of the people at the table and Zedd’s incessant blathering. But he does.
That’s right. It’s just me and you, he says. His eye no longer has even a remnant of the dark, angry storm. It’s the color of his affection. I dive into it.
It’s no secret I’ve never touched a female, not like this, Willow. I’d feel honored if you trusted me enough to tell me what you like and what you want. What type of male would I be if I didn’t want your happiness and pleasure above everything?
My nipples are hardy little things , I tell him. They like to be flicked and plucked. Later, you can suck them into your mouth and scrape them with your teeth.
Telling him this is intimate and arousing, but the look on his face, as if I just gave him directions to a hidden treasure, fills me with happiness.
We both pause to glance at the tote board. Our numbers are accumulating now.