Chapter 19 Cargo should not be left unattended in the galley
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Cargo should not be left unattended in the galley
Shohari
WATCHING MUZATI running out of the galley reminded me of Garrison in the training room this morning. Wearing my shorts.
When Comnica had alerted me to the stepmill usage, I knew I shouldn’t watch, not for long, but I’d taken my fill of the view before I closed the security screen. His broad back, sheened with sweat. The muscles in his legs as he ran—barefoot, like us.
Seeing him with Muzati shouldn’t have triggered as much jealousy as it did, but the easy way they laughed and talked made my chest ache. I wanted that easy, relaxed companionship with him.
Maybe change could start with a mug of chrya. Maybe I should be brave.
“I’m making drinks, human. Would you care for one?” I was gruffer than I wanted to be, but at least I’d said it.
He quickly smoothed over a flash of surprise. “Yes please, Captain.”
“Shohari.”
He raised his brows. “What happened to ‘on this ship, you will call me Captain’?”
I took a breath. “My friends call me Shohari.” I would like us to be friends, Garrison.
A faint smile lifted his lovely mouth. “And my friends call me Garrison.”
He glanced over to where the four other humans huddled on my sofa, watching vids on the holoscreen. Something unspoken passed between them, and they shuffled out, muttering between themselves.
The drinks machine hissed, and I added the milk and sugar he liked. “Your chrya, Garrison.”
When he took the mug, his fingers brushed mine, just like yesterday. My stomach squeezed, and I couldn’t stop my lips parting in a soft gasp.
“Thank you, Shohari. Does this mean we’re friends?” He quirked one brow up high.
“That… would please me.” I forced myself to smile, even though I wanted to growl at myself for slipping into old speech habits.
He stepped into my personal space with the controlled grace of a prowling mountain tsati. “What else can I do to please you?”
My spines ruffled. “You can drink your chrya and tell me it’s good.”
“I can do that.”
He brought the mug to his lips, eyes locked with mine before they fluttered closed. His head tilted back, revealing the strong, tempting column of his neck as he gave a long, sensual sigh. “So good, Shohari.”
When his gaze returned to mine, it danced with mirth.
“Are you always this easily pleased?” I sipped my chrya, forcing my breathing to slow.
The mirth vanished, a familiar, dark intensity rising in its place. “Not even close.”
The quiet stretched out between us, holding us in its fragile embrace.
Garrison’s mug clinked on the counter. “Everything on the bridge okay today?”
“As it should be.” I paused. “Thank you for helping with the flatcake toaster.”
He lifted his broad shoulders and dropped them again. “It’s fine. It broke while we were using it. Seemed the least I could do.”
We slipped back into quiet. I couldn’t help staring at his mouth, running my eyes over his body, the memory of yesterday too vivid to push aside.
When he spoke again, his voice was tight. “Why won’t you let me get close?” He shifted on his feet, not closer, not further away. “There’s something here, and we’re clearly not able to ignore it.” His voice dipped, and he leaned in. “Maybe a release will help.”
As my reserve crumbled further, I forced back a snarl. I couldn’t stay in control around him, so why couldn’t I let myself go?
A few awkward seconds later, his shoulders slumped. “Look, if you don’t like—”
I spun, pressed his back to the wall and blocked him in, my arms either side of his head. His breath caught, pupils dilating as I bored my eyes into his.
My breaths came in rough heaves. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Garrison,” I rumbled. “That’s the opposite of the problem.”
His voice remained steady even if his body trembled. “It doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”
“Well it is.” But I was forgetting why, and I could have sunk into the bliss of not knowing.
“You like me. I like you. The problem is we’re not doing anything about it.” He rested his hands on my hips, and I took an instinctive tiny step forwards.
His grip on me tightened. “I want to kiss you again, Shohari. But I have one condition.”
“What?” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his tempting, kissable mouth.
Garrison’s voice was warm but unyielding, like a rock face warmed by the sun. “You don’t run away.”
I was prepared this time. I knew what to expect, knew what I was going to feel. I was ready for it.
“Maybe I do run, but this time you catch me.” I punctuated my words with the press of my body, telling him it was okay with the soft rumble in my voice.
I didn’t tell him about the traditional kri’ith courting ritual, that even in my staid society we threw off propriety for the symbolic yet animalistic chase, often ending in fighting, snarling, the constant battle for dominance between lovers.
I didn’t tell him that, on Orith, it was only done as a formal mateship ritual.
All other kri’ith did it whenever they pleased; I was Orithian in name only—and right now, I pleased.
“If you can drop me, you can have me.” My voice was a velvety purr.
Desire flared in his eyes, in the rise and fall of his chest, in the nudge of his hard cock where our bodies met.
I leaned in and caught his soft, full lips with mine. Relief at the familiar, longed-for taste of him rushed into all the hollow spaces inside me, and my body flooded with need.
Garrison answered with a moan, gasping as I invaded his mouth with my thick tongue, just as his smaller one fought back.
I pulled away, panting, and breathed into his ear. “Imagine how good my tongue will feel wrapped around your cock.”
He sank against the wall, eyes rolling back as I palmed the thick length behind his trousers.
“Catch me, Garrison,” I murmured.
I sliced my arms down between his. His hands fell from my hips, and I sprinted for the training room, determined to get it right this time, to sweep away the memories of last time.
He launched himself after me, his growl sending flutters of delicious adrenaline streaking through my desire.
I barely got through the training room door before he was on me. We tumbled to the mats in a tangle of limbs and grunts and grappling for something neither of us wanted to keep out of reach.
The fight sang in my bones, channeling my anger and frustration into action until it was sated.
Garrison used my pause to his advantage. He powered me onto my back until he loomed over me, chest heaving.
His dark eyes gazed deep into mine, flicked to my mouth. “Last chance, Shohari,” he gritted out. “I can—”
I wrenched an arm free and dragged his face to mine, crushing our lips together. His tongue was mobile and eager, and I sucked on it greedily, holding it lightly with my teeth.
His needy moan reverberated into my mouth.
I flipped us over and straddled him. He shuddered, grinding his cock against me, the tangle of our tongues and lips and teeth messy and desperate. I rocked my clit across his hard length, the throbbing in my cunt the only thing I could focus on.
My words fanned over his lips. “Tell me to get off. Or I might not be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop. I want you, Shohari.” His pupils were blown wide, the desire on his face so beautiful I wanted to capture this image and remember it forever. I craved him like I needed chrya in the morning; I needed him hot, and ready, and now.
I forced myself to break the kiss, stripping off my tunic, savouring his gasp and longing stare. My breasts fell free, the tips swollen and puffy with arousal, as hungry for touch as my cunt.
As I peeled off my leggings, he ate me up with his eyes, as though he needed to devour me, or needed me to devour him.
Yes.
That.
I needed to consume him.
Wetness coated my thighs, and my clit throbbed. Much as I loved his staring at me, now was not the time.
“Clothes off,” I said, my voice rough.
The delightful male did exactly as he was told and, oh.
Well.
Garrison’s cock was smooth and solid, darker at the base and almost red at the tip.
Though he had no beads, his size put any kri’ith to shame—even bigger than it had hinted earlier—and the delicious-looking head swelled out from the thickly veined shaft.
It bucked, straining towards me, and a drop of fluid beaded from a small slit at the top.
My cunt clenched around nothing. “I like what I see.”
He had no suhla, unless it was hidden in the dark hairs at the root of his cock. His balls hung heavy beneath it, and my curl coiled and writhed, as eager for them as he was for me.
I knelt over him, displayed myself to him.
Wonder, curiosity, and lust danced across his expressive face. “So do I.” He trailed a finger up my thigh, his breath ragged as it slid towards my cunt. “Damn, you’re so wet.”
“It is because I want to fuck you,” I said, loving the way he reacted to the human word on my lips. “Will you lie back and let me fuck you, Garrison?”
His brown eyes were wide, fixed on me, and I’d never felt more desired.