by Robin Lovett
The door to the cell clicks open, but no one is there, as though it opened by itself. Then, as though it’s a trick of the light, a being forms, glowing at first, then solidifying until Koviye stands in front of us.
Assura and I stare at him. She asks before I can, “You can disappear?”
Koviye smirks, “It is a talent of mine, yes.” What skin is visible outside of his iridescent robe—his hands, his neck and face—loses its glowing light and subsides into undulating shades of blue. I look closer, and the changing blues are almost like a manifestation of energy or something of the sort.
He is not of brute stature like the Ssedez warriors, but he is far from weak. There is a dominance about him that makes me think his near-constant smile is merely a distraction. I would not want to be his enemy.
He spreads his arms and says with roguish mischief, “I’m brilliant. In case you didn’t already know.”
“Congratulations. I’m thrilled for you,” Assura says dryly.
“Cling to your scasms—carmsim, scarsim, oh what’s the word?” He hums a moment. “Learning a language in a week has its negatives.”
“Do you mean ‘sarcasm’?” Assura supplies.
“Ah, yes.” Koviye gives her a conciliatory nod. “That is the word. Regardless of your attitude, you are the one benefitting from my success in this case. I will accept your thanks later. Although—” He looks at us more closely. “Oh, good for you! Just as I suspected. This may be sad news then.”
I scowl at his lack of clarity. “What are you talking about?”
He steps toward me, seeming to examine my skin. “At least three times, yes? Or four? Definitely less than six.” He turns to Assura. “And you are glowing with good health in comparison to yesterday. Am I right in guessing six, more?” He glances back at me as though for confirmation. “Job well done.”
“Six what?” Assura snaps. She may have lost count as the time passed, but I know what he’s referring to. I kept track. The correct number of climaxes she experienced is eight.
“Orgasms, dear,” Koviye answers. “Your blood runs clean. You have fed the desidre and are sufficiently satisfied, for the time being.”
“You can tell?” she gasps. “You can see my blood?”
“Naturally. All the Fellamana can. Nemona and Oten tell me it is a unique gift of our species. Such a pity for you.”
“Koviye.” I scratch my head, willing myself to have patience. “You brought news, you said. What have you accomplished?”
He gives a heavy, fake sigh. “I’m afraid it won’t be good news for you anymore.”
“We can decide that for ourselves, thanks,” Assura snaps.
He leans his shoulder against the wall, which could be casual, except he seems hungry for our reactions, almost bloodthirsty. “Yours truly,” he points at himself, proudly, “convinced the elders that your little fight in the hospital was a form of foreplay and not violence with intent of physical harm.” He clears his throat and gives us both skeptical looks.
Assura and I glance at each other, our eyes locking. We are free. We can leave this cell, and I will never have to touch her or be in the same room with her again. She is healed. We can continue on with our mission to locate her crew, if she will do it without fighting me this time.
Koviye adds, “You are freed from imprisonment. You will continue to receive the topuy and will not be subjected to the full force of the desidre.”
I should be filled with relief, but my chest concaves, making it difficult to breathe. I feel…loss. Which I do not understand. The only thing I am losing is forced proximity to this human. I will rejoice to no longer have to be alone with her. I refuse to experience disappointment at not having to have intimate contact with her.
It is merely the sex, the touch of a female. I will, after this, have to pursue other Ssedez females. That is all this feeling signifies. But that thought twists my stomach as though with a sickness.
I search for a response in Assura, but her expression is a cold stare, vacant of emotion. I can only assume she is concealing her elation at our separation.
“Do I sense disappointment?” Koviye asks in provocation.
“No,” Assura and I snap simultaneously.
Koviye’s face cracks, and he guffaws with laughter. “Oh dear, this is a tragedy. Why do you deny it? I fail to understand the logic of your species. Desire should be freely expressed. There is no shame in it.”
Anger at him swells in my chest, and I have to clench my fists to push him from blocking our exit. “Let us out,” I say with crisp authority.
He composes himself. “You could at least say thank you.”
Assura and I both coolly say the words by force, and I move around him toward the door. I need out of this cell and away from her. There is work to be done. I must clear my head of this lustful distraction and return to duty.
“Not so fast.” Koviye halts my exit. “There is one condition.”
Assura asks before I can, “What did you do, Koviye?”
I glance back at him, and his complexion deepens from its rainbow hues of blue to a deep navy. “They want a demonstration.”
“Of what?” I growl.
“Your exquisite sexual attraction. It’s practically oozing off you. Phew!” He wipes his brow as though overheated. “You two are steaming with it.”
“What kind of demonstration?” Assura pushes.
“How to translate it? That’s the difficult part.” Koviye taps his chin, keeping us deliberately in suspense.
“Say it!” I snap.
“You can choose to stay here and serve out your full punishment. Or, in exchange for your early freedom, before the worst of the desidre overcomes you, you are to participate in tonight’s Sex Games.”
Chapter Seven
Assura
“No, absolutely, no,” I protest at the same time Gahnin says, “Impossible. We cannot.”
Koviye makes a ticking noise with his tongue as if scolding us. “Would you rather be subjected to the desidre fever with no topuy?”
I shiver in revulsion, and I have no response. Whatever these “Sex Games” are, it can’t be worse.
Koviye lifts his brows. “Besides, you will once again be given the excuse to pleasure each other, which apparently you are incapable of doing without outside motivation.” He rolls his eyes.
“But what do we have to do?” Gahnin asks.
“If you can’t guess, I’ll leave it a mystery.” He drops his lighthearted tone and adds seriously, “Your participation would help you gain favor with my people. The Fellamana believe how people make love shows who they truly are. There is no better way to earn their trust for both your species than to show them how you mate.” Koviye walks from the cell.
We’re given no further explanation, and two other Fellamana enter. “Do you consent to be contestants in the Sex Games?” one says with a singsonging accent.
I glance at Gahnin, and his expression is veiled. I can’t tell if he’s enthused or not. His tone is as neutral as his expression. “We are compatible physically and—”
I spit with laughter. “Compatible? Understatement of the universe.”
He scowls. “And if it will help with diplomacy, I am willing. The choice ultimately, though, is yours.” His attempt to not give away his excitement fails. I recognize the way his hands flex—he’s thinking about touching me again and wants it. Good thing I want it, too. Good thing I’m game for any adventure that involves him.
“All right, in the name of diplomacy.” I face the Fellamana. “We consent.” I can’t say it with a straight face. Never would I ever have thought diplomacy and sex could go together, but however these games are going to work, I’m into the surprise of finding out.
They separate Gahnin and me. We’re each taken out and led in opposite directions.
From the name, I have a pretty good idea that these games involve having sex in public, with some sort of competitive aspect to it. The conflict in me rages with uncertainty. I�
�m glad to be rid of Gahnin. I need space, and getting away from him is a good thing. It should be. Except my body wants him back. I didn’t realize that when we agreed to have sex through the desidre fever, I’d begun to look forward to being with him.
I can still feel the stretch between my legs where he was inside me, over and over. Gods, the craving is not gone. How is that possible? I’ve never had so much sex at one time in my life. I’ve never wanted to so much. I’ve never wanted more like this. It’s never felt so powerfully, soul-quenchingly good. I can’t blame myself for wanting more. This desidre, even while not at full force, sure as hell makes it good.
I have to find someone else to satisfy the desidre with. I can’t keep doing this with Gahnin. My emotions think it’s about needing more of him alone. It’s confusing. It’s just the desidre.
“These Sex Games,” I ask the Fellamana female accompanying me. “Do I have to be with Gahnin? Could I choose someone else?”
Her complexion is different from Koviye’s shades of sapphire and navy. She’s more a warm yellow, like sunlight, that blends into orange and every shade in between. Her skin changes when she speaks, almost like it’s linked to her emotions or her words.
There’s a look of confusion on her face, and she says something to me in her musical language that I can’t understand. Damn. Lost in translation.
“Can I speak to Koviye?” I ask.
“Koviye?” she repeats.
“Yes.”
She says something ending in a downward tone that even in a foreign language sounds like a negative. I give up my attempts at communication.
I’m frustrated we are again delayed in getting to my fellow rebels. I should be there helping them. I have to find them. I have to get to them to do everything I can. I need to prove to them all and myself that I am capable of saving people, not just hurting them, not just killing them. I have to get back to that work, to leave behind this existence that seems defined by having sex, again and again. As much as I’m enjoying it.
Gahnin. I feel guilt. I am guilty.
I shouldn’t be sharing anything with him, let alone something so intimate and ecstatic. If he knew what I’d done while a Ten Systems special operative under General Dargule’s command and threats, I’d be dead.
When I escaped from under Dargule’s thumb with the Origin and its crew, I tried to sneak his prisoners, including one long-held Ssedez, off his ship. I did try, I swear. But things didn’t go according to plan. In the end, I had to choose: either save the rebellion and ensure the Origin’s safe escape, or save the prisoners. I made my choice.
That is why, with Gahnin, these sexual experiences, him giving me orgasms and me receiving the pleasure—the irony of it makes my heart ache. I shouldn’t accept it. I should confess to Gahnin what I’ve done and repel him, then the desire I see in his eyes every time he looks at me would die.
But I’m a coward. I can’t tell him. I don’t want to tell him. I want to leave it in the past, to move forward with my new life and not have to wallow in the guilt of it all.
I will make it right with the Ssedez. Somehow. I don’t know how. But I will fix it.
The Fellamana female, whose name I learn is Dalinya, grooms me and bathes me. It’s nice and comforting, even with her thoroughness. She gives me a selection of clothes to choose from. I do as she instructs.
My mind is elsewhere.
Gahnin and I are joined now in this Sex Games debacle, and it’s my fault. When I fought against him, I caused this problem. I should have cooperated. I should have trusted him, if for no other reason than it is my duty to make amends for what I did to his people. The wound I sustained in my side from one of his warriors in the battle… Now that I have full strength, now that my logic is back and it’s not consumed with the desidre, I see this injury for what it truly is. It’s an eye for an eye. Equal repayment.
I’ll ask Koviye to let me fulfill my punishment in the games with a willing Fellamana. I can resist Gahnin now that the desidre in me is temporarily satisfied. Tomorrow, when Gahnin and his warriors leave for the Origin’s crash site, I’ll go with them without a fight. I’ll do everything I can to try to build a bridge between our species, to ensure they are treated fairly by us in the rebellion. I have to follow General Nem’s orders.
Satisfied with my conclusion, I pay more attention to the Fellamana dress I’ve put on and can’t hide a laugh. To call the Fellamana sexually adventurous is putting it mildly. They’re not just free-loving, they’re…quite prurient.
Downright sexualized. With zero shame.
Dalinya coos at my dress. It’s a willowy, sleeveless robe. It flows to my ankles in iridescent fabric. It’s stunning, and I’m about to smile and say thank you when I realize the cutouts are in all the wrong places. Or the right places, I guess.
The neckline isn’t a neckline. It’s a square cut below my breasts, forcing them to peek out over the top. There’s a slit up the middle that I assume is for my legs, until I realize it goes up to my navel. My crotch is exposed with every step I take.
I am on display.
Dalinya is enamored with my pubic area, like having curls there is some sort of commodity. When I put together that the Fellamana and the Ssedez don’t have body hair, her fascination makes me feel like a sex goddess.
Gahnin seemed fascinated, too. Though my impatience for him to do other things to me made me rush him in his curiosity.
Dalinya is so kind, even in her liberal attentions to my backside, where she makes the cutout over my ass even higher. She implies my muscled posterior is something she likes, though I don’t know for sure, with our massive language barrier.
It makes me miss talking to Jenie, my friend, sometimes lover, among the rebels on the Origin. I wonder if she’s still alive.
I focus on the female in front of me, and for fun, let Dalinya squeeze my ass so she can assess what it feels like and lift one of my legs to see what my curls cover up. Heat lines her eyes as she looks at me and touches me, and I’m happy to learn the Fellamana are not strictly heterosexual. Though I’m not surprised, as free-loving as they are.
It would be normal for me to ask her if she’d like to indulge in a little pleasurable pregame. But I am distracted.
I’m desperate to ask her more questions—what’s coming? What happens at the Sex Games? But that Koviye didn’t teach either of us more in the other’s language makes me think the barrier is intentional.
They don’t want me to know; it’s part of the game and the punishment.
Luckily, Dalinya seems to understand without insult that my desires are elsewhere at the moment. She gives me a delicate kiss on the lips and whispers something in her language that sounds like a combination of good luck, well-wishes, and blessings.
I stroke her cheek. “Thank you.”
I gesture to my bare feet and ask for shoes.
She shakes her head with a smile and leads me out the door barefoot, escorting me from the changing area through an underground tunnel. When we resurface from underground, I’m added to a line of a half dozen Fellamana dressed like me. Their robes expose all private parts, too. They’re competitors, it seems like.
I wish I could talk to them. I smile and wave hello. They bow in greeting.
We stand in the entranceway to an arena, where I guess the games will take place. The participants lift their chins high in pride. It’s obviously a huge honor to be chosen for the games. Spectators of Fellamana walk past us, gazing their fill.
They’re appreciative with compliments but not creepy with sexualized taunts. Not like humans do sometimes. It’s as though our bodies are paintings in a museum. They fawn over me but give greetings in their language and smile, too.
I might actually like being looked at. After decades being in the military, forced to wear formless armor daily that hid my gender, it’s freeing to be seen as female—except I’m too busy looking for Koviye and trying to think of a way I could convince him that my punishment could still be acted out with someo
ne other than Gahnin.
Also, I’m trying to distract myself from hoping he says no and that I’ll have to be with Gahnin anyway. Luckily, Gahnin has not appeared, so I haven’t had to see how they dressed him. Gods, if they have his glorious cock on display, my resolve to resist him will probably go to hell.
“Assura!” Koviye comes forward with arms wide. “The Sex Games dress suits you.” His gaze roams over my body and meets my eyes with warmth. “I predict you will be the highlight of the evening.” For the first time, he seems genuine. The expression of restrained laughter he’s had each time I’ve met him is gone. Instead, he has an easy smile.
Koviye leans toward me. “I am anxious to witness the sexual prowess of this Ssedez who has such an effect on you. I need to know his skills.”
“Are you in need of pointers?” I jibe.
“There’s never such a thing as too many pleasure skills, and I know many. But I don’t know the ways a human woman would be pleased.” His face turns from cerulean to a light sky blue, as though his emotions lightened with the color change.
“What good will human ways do you?”
“There is a woman among your human crew who I would learn how to court in your culture. She is—how do you say it—uptight?” He whispers it, as though this is something inexplicably sexy.
“You met the crew? Were you at the crash site?”
“For a week, I observed them to be sure they were no danger to the Fellamana.”
I frown. “Sounds like you were stalking them, and one in particular.”
“Would you rather I waged war against them for being uninvited strangers like the Ten Systems would?” He shudders like I’ve insulted him. “Spying is preferable to violence, and I spent a lot of time witnessing the work of your acting general taking Nemona’s place while she is gone with her Ssedez. Jenie is her name.”
My heart skips, and it’s my turn to grab Koviye by the shoulders. “Jenie is alive?”
“You know her?”
I can’t help it. I wrap my arms around him and hug him. Tears brim in my eyes, and I murmur, “Praise and thanks to every god there is.” The greatest relief I’ve felt since landing here rushes through my chest. I’ll get to see her again. Tomorrow. I have to get to my dearest friend tomorrow.
