110. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
A nya
I was starved. I imagine Rynn was, too. Neither of us ate more than a nutrition bar all day, yet we were humming with caffeine from the drassah tastings. I had no trouble shoveling food from my plate to my mouth, but Rynn just sat across from me at dinner with a wide-eyed, innocent look on his face. It was adorable.
After a while, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“If I eat one more bite, I’ll choke ,” I say as I look at him with a wink. Petra and Shadow are at our table like they are every night. At first, it relieved the awkward dynamic between Rynn and me. Now it makes the meal more fun and easygoing. Rynn can be a tightass unless we tease him out of it.
“One thing I wish we could find up here in outer space,” I say to everyone as if it were a normal comment. “ Chicken . I wish we could find some real chickens.”
Rynn clears his throat and studiously examines his plate. Choking, chickens, what else can I say to tease the shit out of him?
“What’s your favorite chess piece?” I ask him. Dax carved a beautiful chess set out of crema wood and we’ve been playing several nights a week. “The bishop ?” I ask innocently.
He sets his fork on his plate and shoots me his best “shut up” stare. It just makes me laugh and prompts me to keep going.
“So, Rynn, are you familiar with the Earth fairytale about Jack and the Beanstalk?”
This is interesting, I get treated to Rynn’s glower face. I know it should scare the shit out of me, I mean flashing his fangs and all, but it simply entertains me no end.
“ Jack was a very inquisitive boy. He liked to get his hands on everything. Absolutely everything.”
I don’t know about Shadow, but Petra definitely knows something’s up. That woman has a sixth sense about stuff like this.
“Okay, you two. Get a room,” she teases. She has no idea how close she got to the truth.
“That hover ride and all that drassah ,” Rynn says, rubbing his stomach. “I think I’ll take my leave.”
“Me, too,” I say as I spring up. “Sorry,” I tell him as we scrape our plates. “I went too far.”
Rynn
“Yes. You did.” Crap. Prudish.
“Don’t be mad.” She looks me straight in the eyes, apology in her glance. “I like you. I wanted to make you laugh, lighten the mood.”
“Really? You weren’t trying to make me feel… stupid?”
Her chin lifts in surprise.
“I feel affection for you, Rynn. I wouldn’t ever want to make you feel stupid. We’re going to do this. I just wanted to help you see it as fun, not a chore.”
“Not a chore,” I echo, nodding my head.
“I’ll call you on your comm in half an hour. Take a shower, uh, keep your towel handy, and wear a smile when you say hello.”
I take the quickest shower of my life even though I’m still getting used to dealing with a furred body complete with tail. She didn’t tell me whether to get dressed or stay nude. As I contemplate this, I picture her getting ready for our fonesex.
Zar’s memory banks are replete with thousands of pictures of her. Perhaps it isn’t fair for me to page through them. Would that be cheating? It’s using information I shouldn’t have access to. Yet, she can picture my body. She was mated to it for three annums .
I allow myself the pleasure of imagining her taking her shower, picturing the water glimmering in the low lights as it sluices over her perfect, heavy breasts. Her face is beautiful. I’ve admired it a million times since we’ve met, but I’ve never looked at her nude form before.
I’m fascinated by the tuft of light brown hair at the juncture of her thighs. I don’t allow myself to look between her legs. That seems too personal, too intrusive. If we ever get that far, I’ll explore on my own.
“Rynn?” It’s Anya’s voice on my wrist-comm.
“Yes?” my voice barely sounds like my own. It’s deeper, breathy.
“Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I admit.
“On Earth, we have a little trick. If things don’t feel right, if you need time or want to stop altogether, just say red. It’s all you need to do and we’ll pause, or if you want, you can terminate the comm. Nothing to be worried about. I’m nervous, too.”
“Really? All that talk about choking the bishop? In front of your friends? And you’re nervous.”
“I’ve never had phone sex before. And, let’s face it, our relationship is something for the record books. It’s uncharted territory. So, yeah, I’m nervous too.”
Somehow, this puts me at ease.
“What are you wearing?” Her tone is different. I think the preliminaries are over. I think we’re having fonesex.
“Nothing.”
There’s a long pause until I realize I should ask her the same question. When I do, her answer is, “I’m wearing white lingerie. It’s a filmy, see-through top and a scrap of panties.”
I swallow, suddenly parched.
“Anya, I think I’m cheating. I have pictures in my databanks of you. They’re from Zar. I can’t get them out of my head even though I’m trying not to invade your privacy.”
“That’s okay.” There’s a smile in her voice. “You can’t unsee it. I can imagine you, too.”
“Tell me.” I have to lick my lips to continue, “Tell me what you see.”
“Perfection.”
That word hits me like a punch to the gut. This is how she sees my form? For the first several weeks I wore this body, I resented it. It wasn’t a Boklorn body like I’ve been used to. To hear how much she likes my form makes me feel proud, confident. It’s freeing.
I pad to the full-length mirror on the back of the refresher door and watch as she continues.
“Your mane, so masculine. Your eyes, so compassionate. Lately, when you look at me, your gaze is filled with affection. It’s allowed me to… breathe again. To not want to cry every minute of every day.”
At first, I resent this intrusion. She’s bringing Zar into our fonesex. It doesn’t feel right. Then warm emotion cascades through my body. She loved that male—still loves him. She always will. She’s the perfect, loyal female. I admire that about her. Zar will always be here. He can either be between us, or a valued part of our dynamic. I choose the latter.
“You feel my affection because it’s as real as the air we breathe, Anya. I’m glad I’m helping you through the most difficult days of your life. And if you want to cry, I’ll be there for you through that. I’ve never experienced emotions before, but I’m learning as fast as I can so I can help you through this.”
“That’s one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.”
She pauses. I think she’s turning her mind so she can pay attention to the fonesex.
“When I look at you, I see your vulnerabilities, your insecurities, and I see what a good male you are. I like your thick muscles, and the tiny dots that mark where each whisker emerges.”
I lean toward the mirror to examine that. I hadn’t noticed it before.
“And your fangs. They terrified me at first, but I love them now. That they’re dangerous yet will never hurt me. It makes me feel precious.”
“Precious, Anya. That’s what you are.”
“Is your cock hard?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Are you lying down?”
“I’m on my way,” I tell her as I make my way to the bed.
“Turn down the lights and tell me what you feel when you stroke your cock.”
Deciding to start at the least messy end, I grip the base.
“Solid.”
I slide upward toward the tip. For the first time, I’m not touching myself with utilitarian contact. I’m allowing myself to perceive the feelings.
“Are you stroking?”
“Y-yes,” I stutter.
“I’ll just wait. Tell me whatever you want to share. I’m getting wet just watching you in my mind’s eye.”
My hand stops moving as I imagine her getting wet. I force myself not to look at the pictures provided by Zar’s memories. It would be trespassing. Instead, I imagine her pretty Anya-colored folds the way they are displayed in one of the guides to human anatomy I have stored in my brain.
“Someday,” I force myself to say the words that are on my tongue, “someday I want to taste you there.”
“Mmm, that made me shiver with excitement.”
Maybe this won’t be as difficult as I’d imagined. Maybe if I just say the thoughts that pop into my mind, this will all work out.
“Stroking my cock feels good,” I share, “but when I picture things I want to do to your body, it feels so much better.”
“What things are you picturing?”
“I want to taste you everywhere. Would you like that?” Although I’m still getting used to my new voice in this body, it sounds different, deeper, rougher.
“Yes. I’d like it if we explored together and found the places we both like best.”
“I want to feel your nipples beaded in my palms.”
“Mmm, that made pleasure slice right through me.”
“I want to lick them and suck them.”
“That would feel amazing.”
“I picture myself licking my way down between the valley of your breasts, past your umbilicus, and through your patch of hair.”
“You’re a natural at this, Rynn.”
“I like when you say my name. It feels intimate to hear it on your lips.”
“Tell me how your cock feels now.”
“Pressure. Longing. Desire. My hips are pumping. Striving for something.”
“I’m going to swirl my fingers around my clit while you keep striving,” she says, her words coming out in swift, short huffs. “You keep striving. Rynn?”
“Mm?”
“Let me hear you breathe. I want to hear your pleasure. I want to know what it sounds like when you come.”
I picture in minute detail everything I just described, imagining it down to the pores on her skin. This body has an acute sense of smell. I throw the scent of her arousal into the mix.
My hips pump higher, my fist grips harder, and a deep huffing growl escapes my mouth on every exhalation. My testicles tighten and white light bursts behind my lids as I feel a release so potent and powerful it rips through my body in waves of pleasure more intense than I could have ever imagined.
My moans and a quiet sensual chuff take me by surprise as I feel my essence jet out of me and land on my chest.
I’m deep in a haze of bliss, but not so lost that I miss the sounds of her release. Her pleasure is distinctly feminine as she sighs and moans into my comm. She’s quiet now, but I imagine her stretching in pleasure.
“How ya doing?” she asks, her voice sleepy.
“Amazing. I’m picturing your beautiful face with the expression of complete satisfaction curving your mouth into a smile. Thank you for sharing yourself with me.”
“Good, Rynn. ‘Night.”
I listen for long moments, hoping she didn’t close our link, wishing I could still hear her breathing on the other end of our connection, but it’s dead.
Now I understand what the towel was for. I wipe myself with it, then rise to walk to the bathroom so I can do a better job.
It can’t be over. I refuse to let a moment so intense just end without another taste of our connection.
I slide a wet cloth over my sticky skin, then put on a loincloth. It’s second nature to me now and only takes a moment.
Without donning shoes, I make my way to Anya’s cabin. I’m an idiot. What was I thinking that first day when I insisted they house me as far from her as possible? That day she offered to sleep on the floor at my side. Now, only a few months later, I’d offer to do the same.
Although I don’t want to wake her, I need to connect. Rather than banging or knocking, I unsheathe one claw and scratch slowly, then tap.
“Open,” I hear her instruct her door.
I didn’t think farther ahead than this. My feet were driven here by the sheer need to see her, to get a glimpse of her pleasure-tousled hair. I’m not sure what to do now, but I know I should never cross her threshold. That would be too forward, especially after what we just shared over comms.
She’s sitting up. The bedclothes pressed tightly to her sides cover her breasts. Her lovely shoulders are on display.
“Rynn?”
“I had to see you. I couldn’t go to sleep without checking on you.”
For a moment, I wonder if she’s angry at the interruption, but the look on her face is… beatific.
“Sweet.”
She rises and pads to the door, dragging the bedclothes with her as if they’re a queen’s robes trailing behind her.
“Lovely,” I breathe.
Her eyes are sparkling with happiness, telling me my trip to her door wasn’t a mistake after all. I watch as she rises on her toes, clearly intending to kiss me.
“We have lunars , Anya,” reluctance is obvious in my voice. “I don’t want to take things too fast. I just had to see you.”
She closes her lids and I wonder if I just ruined things. My stomach tightens when she opens her eyes and they’re shining with unshed tears. I assume I’ve messed up everything until she gives me a wan smile.
“It was a great choice, coming to see me,” she says. “I’ll see you in the dining room in the morning for a cup of drassah .”
She palms the door closed and leaves me standing in the hallway. I have to look down at my feet to make sure they’re on the floor. It feels like I’m floating on air.
Anya
I know we agreed no touching until I’m ready, but I must admit, Rynn and I are growing closer. It’s hard to deny my affection for him. He’s not Zar. No one will ever fill Zar’s place in my heart.
It’s been two months. At times I still feel guilty that I’m even considering moving on. Other times, though, I think Zar would encourage me to find happiness. I imagine it would break his heart if he knew I still cried myself to sleep every night.
But Rynn is good and kind and tries to always do the right thing. He started out as a stuffy, straight-laced asshole, but he’s so much more human now. Well, of course he’s not human, but he’s real. And the expression on his face when he looks at me, it’s so close to how Zar looks when he… Shit. Zar’s dead. I’m so confused I’m still thinking of him as if he’s alive.
For the first few weeks after the incident, I spoke with Lexa on comms almost every day. She’s mated to Sextus and travels with him and the pirates we’re friendly with. She was days away from getting her PhD in psychology when she was abducted. She doesn’t like to counsel people because she says she’s not good at it, but was kind enough to help me through the worst of my grief.
She suggested I should have a ceremony to say goodbye to Zar when I am ready. At the time, I wanted to reach through the comm and choke her. Ready to say goodbye to the love of my life? I couldn’t imagine that ever happening.
I’m not over Zar. I’ll never be over him, but I can’t deny my fondness for Rynn. Sometimes I think it would be amazing if I could have them both.
No. That’s crazy. As Lexa suggested months ago, I think I’m ready to close the chapter on my great love affair with Zar. What we had can’t be denied or erased, but it has to be relegated to the past. I’m going to write him a letter, put all my love onto the page, document the love affair of a lifetime, and then slot it into a different place in my mind.
Napoleon and Josephine? Bogey and Bacall? They had nothing on Zar and me. I’m going to pour my heart onto the page, document it, and let it go. Lexa’s right. I need to do that in order to move on.
I can’t imagine loving Rynn as intensely as I love Zar, but he’s a good male and we get along so well. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe lightning can strike twice. Perhaps, at some point in the future, he and I can have something close to what I shared with Zar.
But even if we can’t, even if things don’t work out between us, I need to make a clear statement to my mind that Zar is never coming back.
I locate a paper and pen, which makes me tear up as I think of Zar, forever using his written notes when he had something important to say.
Dear Zar,
Just writing those two words brings tears to my eyes. Knowing I’ll never be able to say those words to you again, that I’ll never be able to tell you how much I love you, how wonderful you are breaks my heart.
I strike through the word and change it to past tense—were. It takes me a moment to be able to see through my tears to keep writing.
It’s the saddest thing in the universe.
You were my light in the darkness, the one thing that made life worth living. You completed me. When I felt weak, you helped me be strong. When I was at the end of my tether, you lengthened the rope.
It’s no secret you scared the shit out of me the moment we met. Those were hard times, yet your compassion pulled me through. You’d crawled so deep inside yourself you concealed your feelings at first, but you couldn’t hide from me for long. We were meant to be together.
I have to stop for a moment and take a break. After walking to the bathroom, blowing my nose and wiping my face, I return to the desk and continue. I want to finish. I need closure.
You were taken from me way too soon. I thought we’d have years together, or at least I’d hoped for that. We were on a warship, running from enemies. I knew we might die young, but I always thought we’d go together.
Nothing prepared me to lose you.
But I have lost you and I can’t wallow in grief. It’s killing me and I know if you were here, you’d want me to move on. You might even want me to find love again. I doubt you’d want me to sleep alone for the rest of my life.
You will never be far from my thoughts.
I love you more than words can say, and I always will.
Anya