by Alana Khan
“I had to force myself not to worry about you, my distraction could have endangered both of us.” I pause a moment, then admit, “But half my thoughts were on you the entire battle.”
She falls silent, just grinning at me. My body is aching from the unaccustomed activity and high alert I’ve been on, but all I can do is think about the delights I hope await me after lights out.
“So I was waiting to tell you the best news ever.” She kind of sings the last few words of this sentence in excitement. She waits for my response.
“Are you going to make me beg?”
“I found us a pilot!”
“In a hidden room?” I jest.
“Funny.” She playfully punches my shoulder. “Axxios is a pilot, big boy.”
“A pilot of what? How do you know he can really fly this ship?”
“Well, I didn’t ask for a copy of his resume, but he seemed like a straight shooter and intimated he was used to far bigger craft than this.”
“What are the odds of this?” My brow furrows in thought.
“You don’t believe me? Don’t believe him? What?”
I’m silent for a moment, not sure how to tell her. Wondering if she’ll think less of me, but I decide to tell her anyway.
“I haven’t really told you a lot about my childhood. I think you know some basics. Raised by uncaring ‘caregivers,’ sold at my owners’ whims when they were angry, down on their luck, or maybe just wanted to buy racing stock instead of fighting stock.
“Most of my education came from fellow fighters, and they hailed from around the galaxy with a wide range of religious beliefs. I’ve listened to a few males who spoke of their God or Gods in glowing tones and tried to convert me. I’ve learned about other beliefs during some of their holy days. My head is full of a jumble of ideas about God, and I’m not sure what I believe.
“But the fact that out of twenty souls, twenty souls in our tiny insurrection and one of them is equipped to fly this vessel, more than equipped if what you say is correct, doesn’t that say something? Doesn’t that say perhaps we are blessed?
“Blessed by who, blessed by what, I have no idea. But certainly, fate has smiled on us, Anya.”
I pause for a moment and look deeply into those beautiful green eyes of hers. “Anya, you winding up in this cell, with me...you’ve saved my life. No matter what happens when we rise up against them, win or lose, know this—you’ve saved my life.”
A stroke of luck and the lights flick off at the end of my declaration. I probably shouldn’t have blurted that out. Perhaps it was too much to dump on her. She hasn’t said a word. Then I feel her weight lift off the mattress and hear the soft sounds of her clothes being shed. She kneels down at my feet and presses my knees apart, nestling between my thighs.
Her hands are gentle as she tries to remove my loincloth. I take pity on her; it’s a complicated series of twists and knots. While I’m busy with that, she begins stroking my inner thighs. I realize all but one of the dim lights used to illuminate the cell block at night were shot out in the laser fire and we are nearly bathed in darkness. I can’t fully see her face, her hands, her expressions; I can only feel.
I never knew my thighs were capable of such sensual feelings, but my attention is fully focused on the whisper-soft tracing of her fingers and then her palms stroking my fur from knees to the crease of my torso. My cock has been hard since I felt her kneeling at my feet, but now it’s straining in her direction.
Kisses. Slow kisses from inner knee languorously up my thigh in a lazy zigzag, as if there is all the time in the world. One leg, then the other. I have no thoughts other than what is happening in this moment.
Dear Gods, she is nipping me. Her teeth gently scraping me, knee to thigh and back again. Now her tongue is tracing delicate patterns through my fur, touching sensitive skin underneath. She’s spending an exorbitant amount of time in the crease between thigh and torso. Every cell in my body is on high alert. She lifts up a bit higher, off her knees and begins to tongue the area above my cock near my belly.
I don’t know how she is doing it, but she manages to avoid my jutting cock, now straining toward her, demanding to be touched.
“Not yet,” she says firmly, and then breaths onto my skin, licking and nipping. Meanwhile, her hands have pushed me back, full length onto the bed so she has perfect access to me. I gently pull her mouth toward my cock, letting her know that it’s time to get down to business, but she pushes my hands away and orders, “Lie back. You’re not allowed to touch me, just feel.”
Oh, I’m feeling alright. I’m feeling I will explode if this keeps up for very long. But little Anya is clearly in no hurry as she works her way around, this way and that, everywhere but where I am dying for her to be.
And finally, her warm breath is on the head of my cock. Cool breath in, warm breath out. Then it feels even cooler and even warmer, her mouth now open and a micron away from finally touching me. “Anya,” I demand and plead at the same time. I want to practically order her to touch me, but I don’t, realizing how delicious the anticipation is.
Her tongue begins to circle the tip of my cock. I make a deep, rumbling sound in the back of my throat at the same time she whispers, “You taste so good.” I have to clench my jaw to control the lust sizzling along my veins at the thought she likes my taste.
Her accomplished little tongue dances around and around my tip. When she decides I’m in enough of a wild frenzy, I get her whole mouth around the head. I know she likes to keep these things private, but I don’t think the noise I make is subtle at all.
Now there’s suction. Up and down, just the head. Up and down and a swirl. Up and down and a swirl. I lose my mind. My hips buck up toward her, wanting to feel this, yes this, on my shaft.
And then I do. Her mouth plunges all the way toward the base in one swift movement—sucking, her tongue twirling, and head bobbing up and down. Such a very gifted tongue. I keep my hands on the bed. I don’t want to press her or force her or push her head. But I can’t keep my hands still. My fingers and palms roam her shoulders, upper arms and back even as I try not to jam my cock into that talented mouth.
I tried to touch one of her breasts a moment ago, but she elbowed my hand away. It’s clear she wants her moment of command. Yes, she’s in perfect control and I have lost it. My hips are thrusting and every thought has zeroed in on her mouth. Her mouth and my cock.
Finally, perhaps taking pity on me, she climbs onto the bed, straddles me, leans over and gives me a kiss on the lips. In one movement, impales herself on my cock. How I manage not to moan in ecstasy, I’ll never know. She rides me for a moment, and all patience is gone.
In one swift action, I roll us over, still fully seated inside her warmth. With one hand I grab her wrists and hold them above her head. “Now I’m in charge, Little Anya.” I kiss her lips, her face, her cheeks as I ride her hard, giving no mercy just as she gave me none. My thrusts are forceful and desperate, but she keeps up with me, rising up to meet each one.
Now at the bottom of every thrust, I give that little circular motion I know will push her over the edge. Only a few of these and she slips her hands from my grasp and puts them over her mouth, stifling the scream of pleasure that signals she’s reached her release.
The exquisite contractions massaging me inside her wet, welcoming channel push me over the edge only a few moments later. Still panting as I come down from that magnificent explosion, I press my back against the wall, turning her on her side so we can stay connected, face to face.
Coupling in the past was always forced. I was filled with shame and rage. This feeling is new. I’m suffused with liquid warmth. A calm I never dreamed of spreads through me. And then my heart squeezes as I’m filled with terror that this amazing, unexpected bliss I’ve found with Anya will be snatched away on Hyperion.
Anya
I lay facing Zar, taking stock of the situation. I’m a kidnapped breeder in an 8x8 foot cell in a spaceship far from home, family, and
friends. I’m planning a dangerous overthrow of aliens with laser guns and exploding shock collars. And you know what? I’m kinda deliriously happy. Who'da thunk it?
I really like this guy and I’m pretty sure he really likes me. I don’t think this is Stockholm syndrome. If it was I’d be attracted to an Urlut, not Zar. I think I read somewhere that people who are in dangerous situations together are way more likely to fall for each other. Whatever...I don’t care. Zar’s hot, sweet, and makes love like a god. My life would be complete shit without him. I don’t see a downside to caring for him.
There are so many question marks in my life right now. Even if our little revolution works perfectly—and the odds of that are low—I have no idea what will happen after that. I don’t have any idea who the authorities might be, or what kind of trouble we’ll be in. Is this ship within the law? Is it legal to kidnap people? Buy and sell them? If the owners of this ship—the owners of us slaves—are within the law, then we will certainly be outside of it if we steal this ship.
If the vessel is owned by pirates or smugglers, no authorities will be looking for us. I relax a moment, then my muscles tighten when I replay every movie I’ve ever seen about someone enraging the mafia. If we’re “stealing” from an illegal organization, they are eventually going to want their property back. My stomach clenches in fear.
And then I place my palm on my belly, there’s the little issue of a possible lion baby. I don’t even want to think about that.
My head is spinning with questions for which I have no answers. My family didn’t call me “worrywart” for nothing.
“You’re restless, Little One. Why?” Zar asks, his arm a comfortable weight across my middle.
“Just thinking…” I answer evasively.
“Tell me.”
“Just worrying about what happens when we take over the ship.”
“What about it?”
“Everything.” I decide to let it all come spilling out. “Where will we go? How will we find the money to pay for things? How will we evade whoever is going to come after us?”
He chuckles quietly. “Don’t you think we should first worry about taking over the ship?”
“It’s like a game of chess, a strategy game we have on Earth. You have to think many moves ahead in order to win.”
“You’re so smart, my Little Anya. You’re right. But tonight, try to get some sleep.”
“Can’t.”
“Tell me about your childhood, your family, your world.”
I’m not sure if he really wants to know, or if he’s just trying to distract my racing thoughts.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. I want to know everything that made you into who you are.” He’s stroking the back of my neck in figure eights with his thumb.
I tell him first about the planet. How beautiful it is, how diverse the species are that inhabit it. I neglect to tell him about climate change, greed, and political corruption. I’m not sure I want him to know the trouble my planet is facing.
I talk about the change of seasons—he seems extra fascinated by stories of snow, snowmen, sledding, and the cold. I guess he’s never visited a place that had a bona fide winter. I describe a bit about our social structure, and I make sure to mention that slavery has basically been outlawed for centuries.
But it’s when I talk about my own family that his interest comes alive. He peppers me with questions about what to me seem the most mundane things. The nuclear family is almost incomprehensible to him.
“So the two people who make the baby live together? Forever?” He seems totally gobsmacked by this idea.
“Yes. Not everyone, of course. There are single parent families…” I don’t want to confuse him too much. “The parents often decide to join together in a ceremony, either through the government or through their religion, and then they live together. And they raise the child together.”
He nods his head as if this is a difficult concept he’s having trouble fully absorbing.
“Tell me more about your parents. How did they treat you?”
The more I tell him, the more questions he asks. “We should probably get to sleep, Zar. Before too long we’re going to hear the announcement to complete the act.”
“One final question,” he demands.
“Okay.”
“Tell me your favorite story about your father.”
I have no idea why that is uppermost on his mind, but I’ll comply. I search through my memories and then get a little misty-eyed as I realize how much I miss my parents. If I’m pregnant, even if we take over the ship, I’ll never return to Earth. I’ve determined that would never be an option. I hold back hot tears of sadness, then take a breath and continue.
“I was about ten and we went on a camping trip. That’s when you leave the comforts of your home and sleep out of doors. Don’t ask...it really is as dumb as it sounds. At any rate, we took Freckles the family dog—which is an animal that is a pet.”
I can feel him cocking his head in question, so I answer it before he can ask it. “They are living beings, animals, but not humanoid. We keep them around to pet them.”
“You pet a pet? Did that translate correctly?”
“You keep them around to stroke them, feed them, and take care of them. So my pet dog, not so smart, ran off the day we had to get back to our home. We looked for him and called him for hours and then had to leave without him. At any rate, I was crazed over it. I cried for days. Freckles and I were a pair. I was bereft.
“So, on my dad’s next day off, he put me in the car and we drove all the way to the campsite. It was hours away. We called the dog for long minutes. My father confessed later that he never believed, not for a second that the dog would still be in the area. He totally believed that the dog had been eaten by predators. But finally, Freckles came limping up. He looked way skinnier, but he was alive and really happy to see us.
“Now that I’m an adult I realize there was absolutely no reason to believe the dog would be alive. It must have been so hard for Dad to throw away a whole precious day off on a fool’s errand. But he did it for me, and I love him a lot for that.”
Zar is so quiet I wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but his hand is still caressing the back of my neck. Then he meaningfully moves his hand to my belly. “I wish to be that kind of father,” he pronounces. “I wish to be the kind of father my child can tell loving stories about. I never had a father. I’ve never actually seen a father, not one in action.
“What if there is a youngling growing in your belly, Anya? What if I’ve made you pregnant and we do win our rebellion, and I get to be a father and I’m not good at it?” There is sheer panic in his gravelly voice.
The sincerity of his concern wrenches my gut. “My dad wasn’t perfect, Zar, but he loved me. Do you think you will love the...youngling when he or she is born? If you do, you’ll be a good father.”
“A few days ago I would have told you I can’t love. I would have told you I was a stone, incapable of loving anyone or anything. But today,” he pauses to make sure I hear these next words, “today I know I’m capable of love. I love you, and I will love the youngling we will make together.”
Zar just said he loves me, without preamble or pretense. Part of me wants to tell him I love him back, part of me is scared to death. I feel shaky. Love is a big word. I don’t want to use it until I’m sure. And what if we escape? If we take over this ship, do I want to go back to Earth? Never see him again?
I hate to leave him hanging, but I can’t say the words yet. I nestle against him and pull his arm around my waist.
Chapter Ten
Anya
When the announcement wakes us the next morning, I can tell we stayed up way too late last night. I’m still tired, and even Zar, usually so full of energy, seems to be moving a bit slower than usual.
Our enforced bed session takes longer than when Zar was still “Minute Man.” The lights are on. It is not a passionate affair by any mean
s, but we do it face to face while looking deeply into each others’ eyes. It feels sexual and intimate and it deepens our growing connection.
I kiss Zar before the Urluts get to our cell. We both know without discussing it that it’s not safe for the Urluts to know that Zar and I have feelings for each other. I assume whatever they know can and will be used against us, so we are not openly showing affection in front of them. Who knows if they are recording us, or watching it; it's too much to worry about.
As Zar passes me to walk to the back of the cell to kneel, hands on top of his head, he winks at me and gives me that sexy, killer smile. OMG, his face lifted in happiness could claim even a dead woman’s heart.
Today is the day, I decide. Today I find out more about the doctor. It’s going to be really important when we rise up to know if he’s in our corner or not. If he’s not, I hate to think about it, but he will have to go on the “to do” list. And not in a good way. I hope we don’t have to kill him, I actually like the guy, but overtaking the ship is our top priority.
