Chapter 14 #2
“The planet was called Hareth-7. Desert planet with hidden reserves of water, perfect for… for the Prif’s plan.”
“And what was that?”
His eyes go flat. “Classified.”
Of course. Anything to do with her seems to trigger a deep fawning response.
The drumming stops. “There… there was a herd. Of animals, like these, one and a half times the size. They had big horns on their heads.” Still staring out at the herd, he stretches out his right arm along his side. It morphs, shape flickering into a long, branching blade.
Like a hind’s antlers.
He waves his arm in the air. “Humans call this sick, right?”
I blink. “Pardon?”
Slicing the air, he grins at me. “Sick.”
Behind the dazzling smile as he tries to lighten the mood, his voice is all strained tension, tight and wheezy.
“Sick,” I agree, and he relaxes.
That seems to give him the strength he needs. His arm reforms back into a stack of silver bangles. “They were spooked by something. Bolted straight for us. Hundreds of those creatures, a wall of hooves and muscle.
“I was with Prif Samara. I had to get her to safety. And I did it, I saved her. But… I wasn’t so lucky.”
He flexes his fingers, his mechanical eye whirring faintly as he glances down at his arm.
I stay quiet, but my stomach churns. My heart overflows for him like the water in the trenches.
A flicker of a bitter smile meets me. “Turns out I’m not as tough as I look, Nic-coal.”
I get up and round the gangplank. He watches me, a light frown marring his face, and as I approach him, he stays seated.
I rest my hand lightly on his shoulder. Give it a squeeze. “You’re here now. Thanks for sharing with me. No wonder you don't like herd animals.”
His eyes search mine, golden flecks shimmering in the sunlight. “Yes. Well. It was more than worth it. I got to be the hero.”
I shake my head at him, smiling, but the ache in my chest doesn’t go away at his levity. There's something else there, hiding behind the shield of humor.
“What happened afterwards, Arture?”
“Afterwards?”
“Yeah. How'd you get your… enhancements?”
He flexes his arm. “Enhancements, mm? Never thought of them like that.”
Nuh uh. He won't bait me away to a different conversation. I wait.
The lightness fades, pain flickering across his face.
“It… it’s not the end of it. Afterward, when the other Samarastocks found me… she wouldn’t even look at me.” His hand curls into a fist, the knuckles of his left hand white as he stares at the ground. “I was… imperfect. Broken.”
I stay silent, my breath catching in my throat.
“She ordered them to… dispose of me.”
“Fuck.” My hand tightens on his shoulder.
“I wasn’t any use lying there, all mangled and missing pieces. What was she supposed to do?” He laughs, but it's not his usual chuckle. This one sounds cruel, mocking.
I shake his shoulder. “She should have given you a fucking parade! You saved her life, the least she could do is help you. What a complete—” I bite my lip. His programming probably won't like me calling his perfect mistress a complete and utter bitch. “She abandoned you, Arture.”
“She… she had no…” He licks his lips, the frown returning. “No choice.”
“She had plenty of choices open to her, and what she chose hurt you.” I fume.
His face shutters. “She fixed me later, gave me these… enhancements."
I stop pacing. “I don't understand. She abandoned you, then fixed you?”
“The others found me, as a Pranastock. Ilia, Gara, Dom and the others. They healed me as best they could, and took me back to Oloria.”
“Oh. So… that’s how they added you to the crew?”
He shakes his head angrily. “I don't know yet, I don't remember. But it was definitely the Prif who saved me from euthanization and replaced my eye and arm. That's a rare honor; faulty clones are disposed of.”
Cold creeps across my skin. I want to hug him, and at the same time punch the Prif and all those on his planet who made this system.
Holding both his shoulders, I look into his eyes. “She hurt you, Arture. You don't have to stand for that. You're worth more.”
“Worth…” The gold in his face flares, eyes glimmering, scales brightening, as if bathed in the rays of the sun. The warmth in his face makes my own stretch into a wide grin.
His gaze cuts away. “I'm not, but thanks, Nic-coal. It sits better in my head now.”
“Self-love is hard, Arture. And once you figure out how to feel that about yourself…” I stop myself from adding, let me know the secret, too.
He stands, and my hands slide down his shoulders onto his arms. Both warm, both hard, one yielding. The bands of the metal arm slide like a hard lead rope under my palm. The scales feel like brushing soft skin.
I pull my hands away. “Sorry.”
The gold in his eyes burns. “Don't be. Thank you, Nic-coal. But now that I'm thinking clearly, I’m supposed to be helping you.”
“Helping you is helping me. It makes me feel like I matter,” I admit.
The alien stares down at me. “You do matter. Where’s this coming from?”
“Yeah.” Argh, I can't do this. I point out, “We should get back to work.”
“Talking helps, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” I bustle away, back to the front lines, not looking back at him.
Despite the way I ran away, I do feel better enough to join Arture in digging, but he insists I take the day for myself. “I can handle this.”
“I know you can, but—”
“There's plenty of seedcake in the kitchen. I'll make dinner later. Go rest.” Before I can argue, he turns away, golden scales shining in the hot sunlight.
And really, when was the last time I'd had a duvet day? Not that I'm complaining about all my horses, but there's no getting away from the fact there are no lie-ins with them.
I nibble a piece of seedcake and sit in the lounge area. I kinda wish I had a book, or maybe something to sort… no. I should have a rest, even if I have to tie myself down.
When I sprawl out on the cushions piled on the floor, I get a hit of Arture's scent. It's earthy mixed with minty, like a roughened up pine. I inhale it and suddenly it's like he's next to me, warming the bed.
He's been the perfect gentleman. Well, minus kidnapping me. And stealing a kiss.
I touch my lips. I didn't really mind that, I guess. He asked for another kiss, at least. Means he wants one. He stroked my back the other day, and that felt… good. Plus, the way he looked at me just now, when I said he was worthy?
And the way I catch him looking at me. Heck, he nearly choked on his seedcake when I wore the clothes he made for me. Pants which emphasized my ass rather than tried to conceal it.
But most of all? He didn’t forbid me from being with the horses. He offered to stand next to me, right in front of them, and he stayed for as long as he could. To cheer me up. He dove straight back into his trauma… for me.
My palms tingle from the feel of his arms, both scales and metal. My hand steals under the abaya he adjusted for me, tweaking my hardening nipples. Heat pools in my core, and I press my thighs together while tilting my hips to deepen it.
I'm no stranger to having urges in odd places; rocking back and forth on a saddle sometimes rubs me the right way. I usually try to suppress that, but… what's the harm? I'm all alone here for now, and an orgasm will deliver a nice hit of endorphins.
So I slide my hand under my pants, parting my lips. My clit is swollen, and my fingers instantly slide into my folds with how slick I am. I can’t help the moan escaping my lips. It feels so good.
Even better would be… if Arture were here. Seeing the way he cared for me would translate wonderfully into sex, right? I clamp my thighs together again, trapping my hand over my clit and rocking to find the right pressure and angle.
Arture would be devilishly intent on teasing me, driving me mad with pleasure.
He’d make me tell him exactly what I want, smirking as my face reddens, deeper and deeper, and then give it all to me in a merciless session.
I could see him telling me, ‘Just one more,’ and then making me come three times before he’d let me go.
Gasping, I rub harder, my pussy practically gushing at the idea of Arture watching me, figuring out what gives me pleasure, what makes me kick and moan. I hold my lips shut with my teeth, but a squeak escapes as I climb the peak, higher and higher.
My orgasm builds in waves of heat, but I try to avoid thinking about that. Whenever I chase it, I never crest the peak. No matter if I’m with the so-called most reliable jackhammer toys on the market, if I notice it creeping up, it'll freeze like a rabbit in headlights.
So I try to think of something else. Maybe how a bead of sweat looks trailing down Arture’s scales. Maybe how fucking jacked he is in his true form. How his eyes gleam, and how he looked today when I told him he was a good boy.
And how he told me I matter.
I matter.
I matter to him.
“Arture.” I try to swallow back the exhalation of his name, humming as I skate so close to the edge it’s painful. “Argh!”
A pounding on the gangplank outside makes me freeze, before I quickly whip my hand out of my pants and smooth away my shock.
Arture comes in. “Nic-coal? Did you call for me?”
“N… No. Not really. Just talking to myself.”
The alien sniffs the air, eye widening. His mouth opens as if he’s a horse trying to get a better grip on the scent.
Oh, fuck.
I scramble up, wiping my hand on the cushions quickly. “I, uh, I’m going to have a wash.”
“Of course.” His gold eye gleams, the blue one dazzling in the dim light of the powered down spaceship.
And I fucking know he knows.
He’s going to think I’m a slut.