Noah's Ark

by Vijaya Schartz

  “Is that a challenge?” She sat up on the bed. Her feverish hands yanked his shirt from the waist band, revealing perfect abs and smooth tan skin. “I like your idea of skipping the talk.”

  “Do you?” His brown eyes darkened as he gazed into her face with a different kind of intensity, a hunger she hadn't seen there before.

  “I'm not scared of the big bad soldier,” Trixie said, all bravado. Just commit, she reminded herself. This time, however, if the relationship went bad, there would be no escape, no convenient mission in far space. But sex, Trixie could handle anytime. “I'm not a timid virgin... lift your arms.”

  He obliged and the black tee slid up, revealing a smooth, muscled chest, the sight of which gave her shivers of pure delight. Her fingers coursed the planes of his chest. She kissed an erect nipple and his pectorals quivered. Some women liked matted chests, but not Trixie. Kostas had the body she always dreamed for her perfect man.

  She licked the other nipple, eliciting more twitching. Then she glanced up at his still too serious face. “A Greek with no chest hair? I like it.”

  “I thought we weren't going to talk.” He gently pushed her shoulders down on the mattress and slid alongside her, his arms curling around her waist, his lips closing on hers, as if to stifle any further comments.

  Trixie didn't mind. His grip on her tightened and her body tingled everywhere they touched. She could smell the fire, the oil lamp, and the sweet scent emanating from his skin, or was it radiating from hers? A delicious heat swirled through her.

  She reveled in the taste of him... a mixture of kawa and warm spice from the stew. His kiss grew deeper, more insistent. His strong hand cupped her rump and crushed her against his erection. A hot flush engulfed her face, and her mind reeled with the size of his arousal.

  Breathlessly, Trixie fumbled for the button at his waistband, to find it already undone. She wanted to keep the nearness of his body against hers, but she craved the contact of his skin even more. As she lowered the zipper, he stopped her with a firm hand on her wrist.

  “I want to see you naked first,” he whispered suggestively into her hear, so close she felt his breath rustle her hair.

  “Why?” Somehow his taking charge thrilled her.

  “I want to watch you take it all off for me.” He released her wrist and flashed a devilish smile. “I bet you are more beautiful than I imagined.”

  No pressure there! Wraith! Trixie took some comfort in the fact that the hard work and exercise of the past few days must have firmed and toned her muscles somewhat. She hoped the flattering lamp light would blur her imperfections.

  Insecurities be damned. Here goes nothing.

  Holding his gaze, she slid off the bed, leaving Kostas relaxed on his side, propped on one elbow, eyes hazy, unfocused. He seemed to have entirely too much self-control. But somehow, she knew she could make him lose it... she intended to drive him wild.

  Wishing she had some slow music instead of the crackling pops of the fire, Trixie deliberately un-cinched her belt, rotating her hips as she'd seen it done on sexy holovids. Glad for her only set of black lace underwear, she wiggled her hips and her pants fell to her ankles. Then she stepped out of them with as much grace as anyone could, while pulling up her navy tee-shirt, uncovering the low-cut black lace of the push-up bra.

  She saw Kostas catch his breath. His eyes narrowed. She broadened her smile as she realized he was enthralled by her little striptease.

  Her confidence soared and she dared speak. “Do I look as good as you imagined?”

  His breath hitched and his hips moved to adjust the evident tightness in his pants. “Much better.”

  Teasingly, she remained out of reach as she unhooked the bra, playing coy, letting him see only glimpses as she gyrated in slow motion. Before she could get to the panties, he stopped her.

  “Come here.” A hoarse command, imperative, urgent.

  She complied. As soon as she reached the bed, he clasped her in a savage embrace and pinned her under him, kissing her hard, his hands palming her breasts, making them swell and harden.

  So, that's what a Space Marine felt like, under all the polish and the self-control. Arching under his ministrations, Trixie didn't mind the strength of his embrace, the roughness of his kiss, the bruising of his erection against her thigh. She felt wanted, powerful, worthy, and couldn't remember the last time she'd yearned for sex that much. Not even on her honeymoon, before her dream of love shattered into a nightmarish lie.

  This was heaven. Against all odds, she felt in synch with this simple soldier. He would never lie to her like her father and her bridegroom had. He would never hide any ugly truth from her. She welcomed Kostas' raw energy, his wild impulses and his strong loving. Finally, someone she could trust, someone who allowed her to be herself.

  His eager mouth traced her throat while one callused hand roved down her body and pried its way into the front of the black lace panties. The sensation of strong fingers between her thighs made her arch even more, seeking full contact. She squirmed under his expert strokes... but she wanted more to quench the heat pooling at her core.

  She wanted to feel the full brunt of him. “Please,” she managed between ragged breaths. “I want to feel you.”

  Without warning, he turned her on her stomach, one hand bracing her hip, the other still stroking under the panties. Somehow the flimsy lace moved down, and she felt his engorged member teasing, so thick and hard. But she wasn't scared. Not of him.

  She arched and lifted her rump slightly to offer herself and felt his immediate reaction. Strong hands braced her hips in a vice, making escape impossible, not that she wanted to. “Please, take me, now.”

  When he thrust into her, she couldn't help but gasp and cry in delighted surprise. He filled her so completely. And when he started moving, slowly at first, she couldn't help but moan to the rhythm of his lovemaking, under the overwhelming spiraling sensations flushing her entire body. The scent of soap and lust filled the alcove. His thrusts grew stronger, deeper, more urgent and savage. The pounding of his body against hers shook off the last of her doubts about him. He was oh-so-perfect.

  A wave of new delirious sensations invaded her as he stroked her breasts, imprisoning her between his steely arms and thighs, forcing her to submit to his will, savagely ramming into her, until she exploded into unrestrained pleasure, her moans turning to roars of pure delight, her throat raw, her voice hoarse.

  Then, and only then, did he accelerate his thrust to a frenzied crescendo, grunting with the tension. Oblivious to anything else, Trixie focused on the surge of hot pleasure flooding her as he released tremulously into her. Her spent body finally relaxed in the delicious moment of peaceful happiness.

  “That was extraordinary,” she managed in a ragged breath.

  “Think so?” he whispered in her hair, not even winded, caressing her flank and spooning her into him. “Give me one minute, and I'll show you extraordinary.”

  “One minute?” Trixie exulted, now convinced she'd found the man of her dreams. She would never let him go. Kostas was wild, but she'd just discovered she liked wild.

  * * *

  Kostas quietly rose and stepped off the bed, lifting his belt from the hook with great care not to make it jingle. He wished he could stay with Trixie the whole night, but he had to go to work his shift in the mine. Trixie still had six hours before hers, and she needed her sleep.

  As he dressed quietly, he watched her sleeping form, hair tousled, arms spread and slack, in innocent abandon. She looked like an angel. A very sexy angel. He smiled at the recollection of their night of pleasure. Where had she found black lace on such short notice?

  Guilt gnawed at his gut as he gazed upon her, so trusting. How could he possibly shatter her happiness by telling her what he really was? Less than a man, little more than a machine... just a lowly clone, devoid of a soul or a past, incapable of proper feelings. Yet what he experienced with her was unique. Unlike his casual encounters on military bases, Trixie
mattered. She was special, although he could not quite define why.

  “Good night, Angel,” he whispered, then deposited a soft kiss on her brow.

  Quietly, he headed for the door, and the cold night of the citadel's streets.

  Then the sirens blew their mournful call over the foggy streets, haranguing the new shift of workers to hurry to the mine.

  * * *

  Trixie straightened in the saddle. Shading her eyes from the wintry afternoon suns, she gazed out the wide-open main gate. The lowered drawbridge traversed the gorge separating the citadel from the fields. Around her on the cobbled square just inside the gate, the horsemen tugged at saddle straps and helped the garrison recruits mount the horses.

  Hooves clacked on the cobblestones, horses snorted and whinnied. Trixie could smell their pungent sweat.

  She patted Philomena's corded neck. The gray mare was a shifty beast, somewhat unpredictable. Trixie turned to Kostas standing next to her mount. “Come spring, we should have enough horses to pull the plows and the carts we found in the citadel.”

  Kostas caressed the stirrup metal piece with the appreciation of a blacksmith. Then he caressed her booted foot that hung over the bright multicolored blanket protecting the horse from the cold. “It might be difficult for such spirited mounts to adapt to pulling in teams. I can't imagine them harnessed to padded collars.”

  Trixie enjoyed the contact of his hand on her boot. She enjoyed everything about Kostas these days, except that he never talked about his past. She wondered why. Everyone on this expedition had secrets, of course, but didn't he trust her? They were all fleeing from something... or someone. Even Trixie... and much to her shame, she hadn't told him her dark secret... yet.

  “Would oxen be better suited?” she asked to cover her dismay.

  “Oxen are slow.” The comment came from Tabor, the mustached head horseman, who now sidled up to her on a black stallion harnessed with jingling bells, red fringes and tassels. Like all his tribesmen, he wore his dark long hair loose under the fur toque. He directed his mount with astonishing mastery.

  “But aren't oxen stronger?” Trixie insisted.

  Tabor smiled. He'd been glancing at Trixie during council meetings, always smiling, and she suspected he was sweet on her. Today, however, he was in his element and it seemed to untie his tongue. “As we breed more horses, we'll select the strongest and train them early as beasts of burden. Several mares are expecting foals in the next two months.”

  Trixie held the reins as instructed, feet in the stirrups and clenching her thighs. She'd had lessons as a child at one of her father's estates, but although not a neophyte, she didn't consider herself an accomplished rider. Far from it. She hoped she wouldn't get hurt, or worse, make a spectacle of herself. She wouldn't relish being thrown from the saddle in front of Kostas. Although he might find it endearing. He seemed to enjoy playing protector, always ready to help when she was in trouble.

  Kostas mounted his steed with as much grace as the horsemen, although he said he'd never ridden before. He seemed to have an innate sense of balance and movement. He needed only to see a move once, and he could replicate it with the utmost precision. She admired that ability of his, although she suspected it wasn't entirely natural. The military often tampered with their soldiers.

  “Adding horseback riding to the garrison training was a brilliant idea.” Tabor winked at Trixie. “The steeds need the exercise.”

  “And the students need to learn new ways of locomotion,” Kostas added with a strained smile. Could he possibly be jealous of Tabor? “In ancient times, the horse was used by messengers, to pull heavy weaponry, to ride into battle. It allowed mobility, a necessity for a warrior only armed with blades.”

  Tabor grinned, baring healthy white teeth under the black moustache. “Our ancestors fought in such a manner. I could teach you a few of their moves. We have a traditional dance on horseback that incorporates these fighting techniques. It was an exercise used to teach the young tribesmen.”

  Kostas nodded. “I would very much like to see it sometime.”

  Tabor tsked his black stallion then whistled and took the lead. Trixie and Kostas rode alongside him. Trixie kept a careful balance on the skittish gray mare protesting its new rider. Everyone followed, two abreast, horsemen and garrison recruits paired together, so the professionals could tutor the green riders. As they crossed the drawbridge, many hooves rang in a staccato on the metal plates.

  “My ancestors could shoot arrows from horseback with deadly accuracy.” Tabor's ringing voice brimmed with pride. To think of it, his posture also projected pride... whether in his lineage or his skills, Trixie couldn't guess.

  “Like the warriors of the great Kublai Kan?” Trixie did remember her history classes.

  Tabor's brow arched and he gave her an appraising look. “Our tribe is related to his tribe.”

  “The great Kublai had many offspring.” Kostas said dryly. Trixie sensed hidden hostility under the cool, neutral tone. “He mated with all the females of his fallen enemies to cement the loyalty of their tribes.”

  Tabor grunted and cast a fierce glance at Kostas.

  Trixie chuckled at the two men's rivalry. Of course, Tabor didn't know Trixie had already made her choice.

  When the mounted group reached the far rim of the gorge, the soft earth sounded moist and squishy under the hooves, as the thaw bared black patches of dirt. Tabor led the riders along a muddy, rutted path lining a long field.

  Trixie dropped a few paces behind the two men, unwilling to trigger their male instincts. She could smell the rich soil. She'd heard the settlers say that black earth was best to grow abundant crops. This land held great promise.

  She wondered who their predecessors had been. Trixie had no illusions about the fact that the previous inhabitants of the citadel had perished in terrible circumstances, from cold, disease, or from the Godds' ruthless exploitation... unless they were shipped off to work on another planet. She sincerely hoped the Human expedition would survive and thrive here, despite so many obstacles.

  Two weeks had passed since the work in the mine had started. She still hoped that when the Godds met their required quota, as Ktal had implied, they would take off with their booty and leave the settlers alone. Unfortunately, he could change his mind anytime, and she saw no avoiding their imposed labor in the immediate future.

  Tabor broke rank to trot up and down the line of riders. Trixie watched Kostas, who now rode quietly beside her. He seemed deep in thought. Trixie grew accustomed to the gait and jostle of horseback riding. After a while, she enjoyed it.

  She marveled at the view of the citadel from the fields. Like a looming presence. A fortress of refuge for its inhabitants, a symbol of menace for those unwelcome there. But would it ever become home?

  “A credit for your thoughts?” Kostas' baritone voice took her out of her reverie.

  “Credits have no value here.” She smiled. Then she realized this was the perfect time to talk. “I know you trust me, yet you seem hesitant to tell me why you embarked on this expedition.”

  Kostas sighed heavily. “To be fair, you didn't tell me why you enrolled either.”

  Trixie stiffened. He was avoiding the topic again, but he was right. She'd told him about her childhood, but not about why she'd accepted this long-term mission to the edge of the known universe, a mission with a fifty-fifty chance of no return. “I guess I had nothing worth staying for.”

  “But your family...” Regret tinged his tone, as if he missed his own.

  “The happy family of my childhood was a lie.” She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “You lied to me?” His face remained neutral, but his eyes hardened, and he turned away to gaze straight ahead.

  “No. I would never lie to you,” Trixie said in earnest, covering up the hurt of his cutting words. “My family lied to me. It took me a long time to discover the truth. I should have known better, but deep inside, I wanted to believe happiness existed despite
all the greed, domination, racial hatred, and other misguided biases.”

  “So, you believe all beings are equal?” His eyes glistened softly as he gazed upon her, the regular planes of his handsome face still guarded in the afternoon light.

  “Some more equal than others, if you believe my father.” Trixie scoffed. “He judges a person according to social rank, education, wealth, influence.”

  “And... you don't.” His jaw unclenched into a hesitant smile.

  “I would never be so unfair.” Trixie strived to be a good person. “I don't know about alien races, but a Human being is a Human being. Some are good, some are evil, or any shade in between, and it has nothing to do with what layer of society they were born into.”

  His intent stare held her. “You really believe that?”

  “I do.” She allowed herself a private smile of satisfaction. “My father would be incensed to learn that I befriended a soldier.”

  “Ah! So, I am a friend.” Kostas turned his gaze forward again.

  Trixie bit her lips. “More than a friend.”

  He snorted. “And what kind of men did you befriend before?”

  Trixie hesitated. Could she trust him with her darkest secret? She hadn't known him that long... “Only men of my social class.” She cleared her throat. “I guess I needed my father's approval.”

  “What changed?” His tone remained guarded.

  “I woke up on my wedding night, when I realized I hated the perfect husband my father had chosen for me. He was handsome, charming, and immensely rich. He was also a sadistic bastard, who invited his mistress into our nuptial bed. I couldn't spend one more minute with him.”

  His eyes widened. “So... you fled?”

  “I took the first shuttle to Mars.” Trixie felt better for telling her secret. “I accepted the first deep space mission that would take me away from my father's sphere of influence.”

  “All that for changing your mind after your wedding?” He frowned. “It sounds rather extreme. A divorce or an annulment could have sufficed.”