Chapter 46 Jean
It’s a light that wakes me, first the warm, red glow of sunlight through my closed eyelids, and then, when I open them, the dazzling brightness of the morning sun itself peeking over the horizon, its golden spears stabbing in through a gap in the giant rib cage where I’ve been sleeping.
As I lift my hand to block those blinding beams, it occurs to me that this is the first time since leaving the escape pod that I’ve actually seen the sun.
First time I’ve felt it, too.
I’m naked from head to toe, and the warm sunshine feels good against my bare skin. The only part of me that isn’t affected by it is a swath across the middle of my body that is covered by one powerful alien arm. Scythro’s. I can tell it’s him just by the shape of his body pressing against my own.
Of course, the prehensile tail wrapped protectively around my thigh is also a dead giveaway.
I sit up, and Scythro relinquishes his hold on me. He rolls onto his back beside me, purring and stretching like an oversized blue feline.
A feline afflicted with the world’s worst case of morning wood.
I really shouldn’t stare, but I do. After everything we did last night, there’s little reason not to. We’ve both seen every inch of each other’s bodies.
And touched.
And tasted.
Still, seeing him naked in broad daylight like this is a new experience for me.
One I cannot easily turn away from. I place a hand atop his shaft and give it a squeeze, testing his hardness.
My pussy flutters in response. For a moment, I fear my nighttime urges might come spilling over into the day, but thankfully that doesn’t happen. My lust simmers but doesn’t explode.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
With my translator off, Scythro can’t understand me, but he purrs a sleepy greeting just the same. I lean down and kiss his stomach. Then I sit up and look around our little camp.
Ghorak is sitting nearby, slumped against one of the vertical rib bones.
His horned head droops against his big chest, and he is snoring rather loudly.
Gerber is propped beside him. Funny, I don’t recall leaving the little android over there last night.
I’m tempted to move him before Ghorak falls over and crushes him, but I have to admit, they look weirdly cute sitting together like that—the little cyborg cherub and the massive green orc.
Mass murderer, I remind myself.
According to Venim.
And where is he this morning? The other two guys make me feel safe, in spite of what I now know about them—or think I know—but there’s something about Venim’s deadly presence that still sends shivers up my back.
I turn to look for him, but his voice reaches my ears before my eyes reach him.
“Lash’ram nril vom’tar, iu’man.”
Halfway through my turn, I notice something lying on the ground beside me. A pile of dirty, off-white rags that used to be my bodysuit before Venim tore it to shreds. And on top of that, my breathing mask. I pick up the latter and pull it on.
“What?” I ask.
“I said: I fixed your clothes, human.”
I lift one of the rags from the pile and realize that the fabric has actually been twisted and tied into something vaguely resembling a bikini top.
Another piece has been altered to look like a pair of panties with flaps in front and back, forming a sort of primitive loincloth.
The boots are there too, each with a tube of fabric extending from the top like a built-in stocking.
Just looking at them, I would estimate that the left stocking will reach past my knee, while the right will end somewhere below it.
“You call this fixed?” I ask.
Venim just answers with a noncommittal grunt.
I pull on the bottoms first, followed by the top. The result looks a bit like something Raquel Welch might wear, only instead of a B-movie cavewoman, I’m a castaway on an alien planet. Also, I’m a bit curvier than Raquel.
“Well, thanks,” I mutter as I finally turn to look at Venim for the first time. “Your alterations aren’t exactly ideal, but I suppose it’s better than noth—”
My words cut off as I see what he’s doing.
Like Scythro and Ghorak, the alien warrior is completely naked, his shimmering orange body fully exposed to the dawn light.
He is kneeling with his legs slightly apart, the muscles of his thighs flexing beneath the smooth snakeskin that covers them.
On the ground in front of him, arranged like fetishes in some arcane ritual, lie a flat slab of black stone, a dagger taken from one of the dead guys back at the crater, and Ghorak’s torch lighter.
What really shocks me into silence, however, is not Venim’s state of undress, nor is it the strange collection of items spread out in front of him. It’s what he’s doing with his hands.
To put it simply, he’s jacking off.
One of his hands is wrapped around the girth of his erect penis, twisting up and down the hardened shaft like his life depends on it. The other hand is lower down, massaging his third testicle.
I saw him do that same maneuver yesterday (God, was it only yesterday?) when he glued my pussy shut.
And now, as then, it is the same dark blue fluid that comes jetting from his tip.
The difference is, this time it’s not my body which is the target.
Instead, it’s the knife that lies on the ground in front of the kneeling alien.
After the first few spurts have come out of him, Venim picks the weapon up and turns it over as he continues ejaculating, coating both sides of the blade with his sticky stuff.
I watch in stunned silence while he comes all over the steel, until at last my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Um, Venim?”
“Silence, human. I am trying to concentrate.”
Okay… those are not exactly the words a woman wants to hear from her man when she catches him playing with himself. Then again, Venim isn’t exactly my man. And what he’s doing right now is so damn weird, I can’t help but watch.
As his dick finally stops spurting, he squeezes a few last dribbles of glue onto the blade, until it looks as if the weapon was just used to murder an alien with dark blue blood.
He tests the substance with his fingers.
It’s already beginning to dry, and when he rubs the blade against the smooth, flat stone in front of him, the glue doesn’t spread, but instead flattens into a narrow edge.
Venim then picks up the lighter. He switches it on and runs the torch flame all over the blade. Wherever the flame touches, the dark blue color pales into a softer, translucent shade, and the substance appears to harden into something like glass.
Just like his sword.
Just like his freaking sword.
When he’s finished, Venim raises the blade up in front of his face and inspects it. He tests the edge with his thumb. A bead of sapphire blood wells from an invisible slit.
“No way,” I murmur.
Venim puts the knife down and looks at me, but says nothing.
“Your sword,” I say. “The one you lost. It was made out of… jizz?”
“It was made of gleth,” he replies. “Tempered gleth is very strong. Better than steel.”
“Whatever. The point is, the whole thing came out of your dick?”
“It took a long time to make.” He sighs and stares at the knife in his hand. “This dagger is a poor substitute, but it will suffice until I have a chance to make a replacement for my glazeblade. About last night…”
The sudden change of topic takes me by surprise, even more so than what I just watched him do to that poor knife.
“What about it?” I ask.
My voice is cool; my body, anything but. My mind flashes back to the night before. Venim’s body on top of mine, on top and inside, writhing, thrusting, raw and unprotected. I think of what would have happened had Scythro not intervened.
“You did not wish for me to deposit my seed inside of you?” he asks.
The question sends a shiver up my spine. I am unwilling to answer yes or no. Either one would be a lie. Instead, I say, “I was afraid.”
“Why?”
“We already talked about this last night, remember? On the Scarlet Ship, I was given drugs. Medicine to make me ‘compatible’ for breeding. I was worried you would get me pregnant.”
My voice trips over the last word. Venim shakes his head.
“Impossible,” he says.
“Oh really? In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re the same species as the Emperor.”
“It doesn’t matter. The medicine you were given does not make you compatible with all Znthian males, only the Emperor. The drugs are keyed to his specific genetic code. Only he could impregnate you.”
“You certainly know a lot about concubines.”
It wasn’t me who said that. It was Scythro. The blue alien is fully awake now, and he is quietly pulling on his black leather pants. Venim gives him the evil eye.
“What’s your point, whore?”
“Hey!” I snap. “Stop calling him that.”
Venim is silent for a beat. Then he revises his question. “What’s your point, Hassaith?”
“It’s just odd,” Scythro says. “That’s all. I’ve never heard such a thing.”
“You’re not a Znthian.”
“Are you telling me this is common knowledge among every member of your species?”
Venim falls silent and glowers. Scythro finishes lacing up his pants. I just sit there and listen.
“Perhaps,” Scythro says casually, as if thinking out loud, “perhaps you worked on a Scarlet Ship before coming to Ul.”
He gestures toward the brand on Venim’s chest.
“Perhaps that was the treason you committed? Fooling around with the Emperor’s concubines?”
Hearing that accusation gives me an unexpected sting of jealousy.
As for Venim, it just makes him angry.
“Only eunuchs work the Scarlet Ships.” He reaches down to fondle the sacs dangling beneath his still erect penis. “As you can see, I am fully intact.”
“Indeed,” Scythro says. “Magnificently so…”
He kneels behind me and wraps me loosely in his arms, resting his chin atop my head.
“…So then, how is it that you know so very much about concubines and fertility drugs?”
“I just do,” Venim insists.
He starts getting dressed. Last night, he ripped his own pants in a frenzy of lust. At some point—while I was sleeping, I guess—he fashioned the material into a tattered loincloth similar to my own, only his is made of dark leather.
“The truth is, I don’t remember why I was sent to Ul.”
“What do you mean?” Scythro asks.
Venim shakes his head. “I have no recollection of my life before coming here. None at all. I don’t even remember my real name.”
“Amnesia?” Scythro’s voice is dubious. “Then how do you remember so much about concubines?”
“I don’t know. I can remember many things, about the universe, about the Empire, about fighting. But when it comes to me, my personal experiences, my life… there’s nothing.”
Scythro purrs thoughtfully. “Selective amnesia. How convenient.”
“You think I’m making it up?” Venim snarls.
“Very well. I will not try to disabuse you of that notion. But I will tell you this: I have no intention of impregnating the human. Do you really think I would wish to bring a child into a world like this?” He sweeps an orange hand at the landscape beyond the cage of ribs.
“Bah! I wouldn’t wish such a fate on anyone, least of all an unborn child. ”
He begins pulling on his boots. By the time he’s done, all the anger has drained out of him. He fixes me with an ultramarine gaze.
“I understand if you do not believe me, human. It matters not. Tonight, when the time comes for me to pleasure you, I shall serve you however you desire. Just like the Hassaith. And just like that big lummox over there…”
He picks up the lighter and tosses it to Ghorak, hitting him directly in the chest. The sleeping giant snorts awake, and looks around in a daze.
Venim sheathes the freshly glazed dagger, then tucks it into the side of his loincloth.
“You are queen of the night,” he says. “But I, I am king of the day, and right now I say it’s time for us to move. If we make haste, we may reach the Vents by noon.”
Then, much like the night before, Venim turns on his heel and starts off into the wasteland. The difference is, this time he’s not storming off, just walking.
“What was that all about?” Ghorak asks.
“Nothing,” Scythro answers. “Come on, get dressed.”
Scythro lets go and starts gathering up our meager supplies. I sit there a moment longer, watching Venim and wondering if what he said about the medicine is really true.
I grab my boots and start to pull them on.