Chapter 17 #3
I stand off to the side, arms crossed and scales twitching with irritation.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate the resources, they’ll keep us alive, but the way they fawn over her grates on me.
They’re too close, too eager, and she’s too trusting.
Every instinct tells me to step in, to keep them at arm’s length, but I grit my teeth and hold back.
Nic-coal can handle herself, and I'd been harping on about due compensation. Still, I can’t stop glaring at the humans, silently daring any one of them to try something stupid.
But when they get to other gifts, like hand woven woollen blankets and wooden carvings, she refuses them. “I couldn't possibly, but thank you.”
“Take them, you deserve something for your time,” I say. Then I spot the bare chested man trying to give her a wooden carving, and its curves look a little too much like Nic-coal. “Maybe not him, though, he's too handsome.”
She looks again at him, as if she hadn't noticed, and I bite the inside of my cheeks. Samara's grace, don't let her choose him instead!
Vry approaches with a large basket with cloth over the top. When she gets to Nic-coal, she places it into her hands.
“No, I couldn't, I—” Nic-coal's automatic protest cuts off as a tiny nose snuffles out from the side of the covering. She gently lifts it to reveal a tiny winged horse.
Aw, fuck.
“He's yours, if you want him,” Vry says.
“Really?” Nic-coal’s gasp fills me with equal delight and despair.
The tiny terror lifts its wings, and Nic-coal puts out her hands for it to trot into her palms. She’s outwardly calm, but the tiny tremor of her arms gives her away: she’s utterly enchanted.
She looks at me, eyes shining.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The light in her beautiful eyes dims. “Are you sure? We’re… leaving soon. Forever.”
Vry nods. “Blood Feather wants to explore the stars with you.”
How does she know we came from off world? My scales bristle. The only possibility is they're spying on us.
She turns to look directly at me. “The mare Karribel told us your home dropped from the skies.
Our own history is replete with tales of homes traveling through the skies and moving between the stars.
I'm blessed to see one in my lifetime.” Vry gestures to the All-Mother's craft and the glowing central column.
So, Nic-coal's species were travelers once? Interesting. But not as interesting as getting my tiny strong human all to myself again. “The goddess is getting tired. You should leave.”
Vry bows low to me. “I will, protector. It's good that kind Nic-coal has someone like you watching over her, loyal only to her.”
Loyal to her. My stomach falls. The new memories of a Pranastock point to me being brave, smart, strong, and loyal, yes. But I'm only loyal to one person. Samara.
I'm completing my mission and enjoying being with Nic-coal. Why can't I take both? But the trickling fear in the back of my mind, the looming threat of unremembered parts of myself, reminds me why.
Once Vry and the others have gone I seal the door, but there's still chaos in our ship.
As I cook a big meal for Nic-coal, Blood Feather swoops around, landing in places I don't want him.
Nic-coal has a starry look in her eyes following him around, and he interrupts her meal by sampling each bite.
Somehow, she not only tolerates such behavior, but enthuses about it.
Finally, the tiny flying horse goes back into his basket and settles the fuck down. At last.
“What a day,” Nic-coal says, stroking the sleeping beast. She's still energized somehow.
“It's been a long day.” I take a steadying breath. “Nic-coal, I wanted to talk—”
“Shall we go outside? I could do with a walk.” The way her hands shake as she hooks stray strands of hair behind her ears doesn’t escape my notice. Is she hungry, or nervous? What could she be nervous about?
“Of course,” I say, and walk next to her to the doorway.
Night wraps around the ship, stars sparkling in a wide swathe above us. I scan the horizon for movement, but all I can smell is her, her scent torture and delight all at once, a searing ache I crave.
She gasps, and I step in front of her, raising my fists in defence. “What have you spotted, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, sorry. Nothing. Just… Look at those.” She points into the nighttime sky. Away from any artificial light, swirls of nearby galaxies glow behind the bright stars above us.
I look down at her upturned face. Pink and green galaxies reflect in the wonder of her eyes like precious gemstones. Just like her.
Our eyes meet, but she doesn't speak. We stand in silence as I drink her in. How do I start? What words fit her, how do I describe how she makes me feel?
I take a step toward her. “Nic-coal, I wanted to—”
My foot slips on the edge of the gangplank. She reaches for me, grabbing my arm, but I'm too heavy, and we overbalance. I throw my arms around her and tuck myself over her body to protect her, aiming to land on my back.
We don't land on hard ground. We splash into Nic-coal's hot pool, submerging completely. Still clinging on to Nic-coal, I find my feet on the pebbled bottom and launch us out of the water. “Fuck. I'm sorry—”
She laughs. The sound echoes off the side of the ship, filling the grassland with her magnified joy. It sends a wave across my scales, filling my chest.
I laugh too, my hearts soaring as high as our combined voices.
She's warm and solid in my arms, heat pressing in from all sides and especially where our bodies meet. My laugh trails off. Drenched, her robes are transparent. They cling to her lush curves, emphasising her heaving breasts, her firm nipples brushing my chest.
My cock hardens, and with her pressed this close, it brushes up her thigh as it grows.
Nic-coal's eyes darken in the pinpricks of light from the galaxies above us. “Arture…”
“Yes?” I say when I can't bear any more silence.
“You…” She looks away, to my arm. “Isn’t the water messing with your mechanics?”
“Ah. Yes,” I admit. I don't have my makeshift sleeve on. “I need to dry it and put a sachet of oil on it. I have one in my pocket.”
“Can I… can I help?”
All I can do is nod. She helps so many, but she wants to help me. Me, when I stole her from her family, friends, and planet.
I heat my right shoulder and burn the water out. She stands and stares at the steam rising from me, nothing compared to the fire inside me stoked by her proximity. As I take out the oil sachet, I brush my tin of CNULG.
Watching my face, she takes it from me. “May I?”
“Y…yes.”
She rips the sachet with her teeth, a primal motion that sends electricity straight to my cocks, and dips her deft fingers into the oil. She starts working it into the joints of my arm, her touch soothing and steady.
My throat burns. She’s focused on every movement, her expression one of unwavering care. The water laps around our hips as her fingers glide over the metal, easing the stiffness.
“Thank you,” I murmur, the words loud in the quiet evening.
She glances up, her smile gentle. Her hand lingers on the metal joint connecting my right arm to my shoulder, skimming onto my scales. They flicker, sensitized to even the faintest brush of her fingers.
I can't take any more. I brush a strand of her hair and hook it behind her ear, then trail my hand down the smooth skin of her neck. Down, down, in a featherlight touch, the tips of my fingers burning where they brush her. I shouldn't be doing this, but I want to, so badly.
Her skin bumps in the wake of my touch. I meet her eyes. “Is that alright?”
“I… yes.” Her breathing quickens, skin changing color. “And no.”
“No?” I drop my hand. My arm trembles; I swallow hard. “I'm sorry, Nic-coal—”
“No, I… I want to.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “But I’m a bit nervous actually. A lot nervous.”
“I can tell. It’s alright. Nothing need happen tonight. We can talk. Sleep when we get tired. I want to be close to you, that’s all I would like, if that is acceptable to you.”
“No, I… I both want to do this and I don’t want to do this. I’m sorry.”
I close the distance between us. “There is no need for that word between us. Truth be told, I am nervous as well. The pressure to perform perfectly is firmly on me.”
“Hey, we’re nervous together. That’s good. Shared experience and all that.” She smiles up at me.
“Hm. You’ve given me a good idea. Is it alright if I touch your shoulders?”
“Yes.”
I lift my hands and gently lay them on her shoulders, flexing my fingers around them.
Her face tenses, her jaw tight, and I let go immediately. “Was that too much?”
“No, I… I keep… thinking.” Her eyes well with tears.
“You are very nervous. Please. Come here.” I open my arms and she tumbles into them, shaking against me. My hands stroke up and down her back, not putting too much pressure on her skin, tracing along the lines of the soaked fabric.
In minutes, her trembling stops, and she lets out a sigh.
“Share with me what you’re thinking,” I murmur.
“I’m thinking about what you’re thinking. I’m… sorry. I’m putting words in your mouth, and it’s my insecurities doing that. I’m having a hard time.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I am as well. If I share, will you share?”
“Maybe.”
I chuckle. “I’ll take the first shot and the first blow, then. I'm worried I'll make a misstep. This is an important moment for us, but especially for you. A chance to rewrite old programming, if you like, but only if I do it right.”
She tips her head up to look at me, hair rustling against my chest scales. “That's a lot of pressure you're putting on yourself.”
“Indeed. But it's true.”
“My hangups aren't your responsibility, they're mine.” She scowls up at me, determined to protect me.
I take her hand. “Now you?”
“Oh. Well. Old fears. It’s all petty and self-sabotaging, and I know all that, but I can’t help it.” She sighs. “A mind is the hardest thing to fight.”