Lois #2
I blink at the projected image of Az, feeling kind of bad that I’d been pissy with him about not showing up for dinner with me, when he’d been needed this whole time. “So…?” I say, inviting him to elaborate.
I half-think he’s going to invite me to go sit with him and his sleepy girls – his sleepy, aggressive girls – but then he answers, “So, I apologize, but I don’t think you’ll be seeing a lot of me tonight.”
The suggestive way he’d just said that-
Was that just in my head?
“Ok,” I squeak, touching DJ’s smooth surface to end the projected video call instantly.
Az’s image disappears, and in front of me is the remainder of my roasted meat and vegetables.
Under the food is a very fancy plate. If I move the hunk of perfectly roasted meat with my golden spork, there’s a gilded version of Az’s royal family crest staring back at me, a matching gilded pattern of vines reaching around the rim of the plate.
I don’t think there was one piece of crockery in our house growing up that didn’t wear a chip or two. Heck, my mom kept those plastic cereal bowls with cartoon characters on them for years. I remember cutting out and collecting the vouchers from the boxes for them.
We had to leave them behind when we ran.
I wonder if Jerry kept them?
“More pukpuk wine, Lady Lois?” a server asks, startling me out of my daydreams.
I nod, thanking the guy once my glass is full again. “Actually… could you leave the bottle?” I’m not one for getting drunk on the regular, but this stuff is sweet and slips down nicely. Besides, it’s not particularly strong.
I don’t think.
The Xaviann guy hesitates only a moment before smiling and bowing, leaving the bottle on the table for me.
“Come on, DJ,” I say, pushing my chair back from the table and grabbing the wine bottle by the neck as I pass by. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
* * *
“So, this guy has entered like a gazillion bride contracts, but only has one daughter,” I tell DJ, taking another sip of wine.
I’ve been trying to go over my research of Senator Glex for the past hour.
Before that, I’d been trying to sleep. Before that, I’d taken a bath – this was after the first failed attempt at sleeping.
DJ makes a Family Feud-style eh-ehhh buzzer noise that almost makes me jump out of my skin. When had she gained access to sounds beyond songs?
“What? He has other kids?”
The projection of all Senator Glex’s information started scrolling down so fast that the text, images, and little video clips start blurring together.
And there, right at the very bottom, DJ stops and highlights a particular passage by making the text larger than the rest, the individual words glowing as if backlit.
Sire of sixty-two offspring from Glex Artificial Womb Laboratories.
“Sixty-Two?! Whoa…”
I vaguely remember Vel telling us about the Artificial Womb technologies they have here.
When the male Xavianns started becoming immune to the females’ bonding bites, to spare the women the risk of being bitten, they developed the technology to grow a child artificially using DNA from the mother and father.
But the practice fell out of favor when they realized that the artificial womb babies only ever developed a bonding venom, and none of them had an ‘active bloodline venom’.
Instinctively, my eyes go to my hand – the one I accidentally burnt. The one Az healed completely. You can’t see any evidence of the burn anymore, but I can almost still feel the cool, soothing effect of his venom like a magical balm.
Then, for some reason, my stupid brain starts thinking of how weirdly hot he is with his fangs extended.
It’s happened a few times – outside of him using his magical-healing-wonder-venom.
And, from what I can tell, it happens when he gets horny.
Which… makes sense. These guys are programmed to bond-bite when in the middle of doing the do, so it only stands to reason they get fang-boners.
It happens when he touches me.
He’s not meant to touch me – not in the way he sometimes does. But it’s like he can’t help himself.
It’s their whole culture and etiquette about keeping women safe and making sure the guys don’t get carried away.
Helping me onto the back of his drak was probably ok.
Sitting that close behind me in the saddle could probably be waved off as keeping me safe during the flight…
maybe… If you squint at the situation from far away, and close one eye… maybe close both eyes.
Technically, he’s not allowed to touch me unless we have a contract. That’s what the whole Permis-
My mind slips and loses focus for a second or two before I sit bolt upright in my bed, my eyes going straight to that strange cubicle thing in the corner of my room.
“That’s what the Permissions are for,” I say out loud in a stupid, breathy voice like I’ve just had a eureka moment that would create world peace.
* * *
Ok, so it’s not going to create world peace.
It might create Lois-peace, though.
Because I can’t sleep.
And that’s all this is.
Just a means to an end.
We all do it.
In the middle of a sleepless night, my hand reaches for that bedside drawer like clockwork.
Give me a few minutes of buzzing, my brain replaying that perfect scenario, one orgasm, and I’m out like a light.
That is all this is.
Really.
And besides, Az gave me his Permission to do this.
Practically begged me to use it, even.
It’s not weird.
Not at all.
“This is so weird,” I say to myself as I stand inside a stark white room, neuro patches stuck to my temples.
In front of me is a perfect replica of Az.
And I mean perfect.
He’s just standing there, staring back at me, that annoying little half-smile ghosting his lips.
I’m standing here in a rumpled night shirt and bed-head hair that looks like I dried it by sticking a finger in an electrical socket.
And he’s… Goddamn it, Az is hot.
For all my pushback on his stupid advances, I have to admit that. Even with the fact we’re not the same species, that man is fine as fuck.
“So, so weird,” I mutter again as I start walking around the hologram in a circle, checking out every single bit of detail from the gold on his elongated elf-like ears to the broad expanse of his shoulders, and the knowing little glint in his eye.
“Are you enjoying eye-fucking me, little Lois?”
I near enough jump out of my skin.
The voice had been Az’s – Az’s holographic clone.
I quickly walk back around to stand in front of him. “Did… did I make you say that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes up at him.
“Yes,” he grins back down at me, tapping his own temples to indicate the neuro patches stuck to my own. “You are directing the simulator with your mind.”
“Great,” I huff, folding my arms. “So even in my fantasies, you’re full of yourself?”
Az – or fake-Az – steps closer. So close I have to crane my neck to look up at him. “Lois,” he says in a low, rough voice. “We’re only here because you want to be full of me too.”
And then, rather suddenly, fake-Az is real-naked. Like, naked-naked. Massive-cock-pressing-against-my-middle-naked.
“Oh, my God!” I gasp, taking a step back, but even before all the words come flying out of my mouth, Az disappears. Poof! Gone.
“Wait!… Uh…” I stop, screw my eyes up, and try to concentrate on bringing him back. When I open my eyes again, Az is standing in front of me – clothed this time.
I breathe a sigh of relief, but then, as soon as I’d thought about how silly that is – I’m in here for some sexual relief, for God’s sake – his clothes vanish again.
And there he stands in all his glory.
And it is glorious.
“I… I…” I stammer, staring at the biggest, thickest, most eager-looking coc-
“It is all anatomically correct,” fake-Az tells me, his hand gesturing to the entirety of his body. “All replicated from Prince Az Zerradaeth Xeverrique’s DNA, and scanned measurements.”
“Ok, you standing there butt-naked talking about yourself in third-person is a little weird, but…” I manage to pull my gaze away from that truly magnificent example of a pussy-wrecking weapon to meet fake-Az’s eyes again. “But I guess it’s not third-person, is it? Because you’re not actually him?”
Fake-Az flickers right in front of me, and I swear, each time the image of him comes back, he’s wearing something different. It’s like my brain can’t get a hold of him, like it can’t make a clear decision.
A chaise-lounge suddenly appears, where he’s sprawled out, legs splayed, his tight pants undone, his cock springing free with his huge hand wrapped around it, leisurely stroking as he beckons me over.
The scene flickers.
A bed this time.
Then it’s gone again. Replaced by something I’ve only gotten a good look at in my research after Niska told us about it.
A Xaviann breeding bench. Fake-Az stands beside it, patting the plush upholstery while holding one of the many confusing straps.
Each of these scenarios flashes in front of me, but none of them stay, and none of them feel… real.
With a huff, I rip off the neuro-patches from my temples, fake-Az and his array of fuck-scenarios disappearing in an instant.
This just isn’t going to work for me.
My brain won’t… let go and sync with whatever the simulator is trying to show me… or whatever fake-Az is trying to do to me.
At this point, I’m starting to think it would be easier with real-Az.
Except-
He’s not technically allowed to touch me without a breeding contract. Not officially. Not without consequences. Look what happened to Zann just because he lent a hand – and a cock – to Senator Glex’s daughter, Xoe.
And I don’t want a breeding contract with him.
He’s going to get the complete wrong idea about us if we-
Wait.
What if-