The perfect centers where her nipples embellished her drew him. His hands fitted about her breasts as if made for such uses, and he ran his heavy thumbs over her skin. Soft, so soft. With his claws mostly retracted, he squeezed both her breasts, enjoying how she fell into ruin at the sensation – sliding a little down the cage and gasping, her eyes fluttering shut.
He felt it the instant the head of his larger cock slid between her thighs, brushing the slippery skin of both, cruising luxuriously along the seam of her sex. It caught at the lip of her entrance then slid onward toward her ass.
That he could actually feel this, and that she allowed him to do this, wanted him to, seemed the most magnificent of life’s paradoxes. He’d been made without a cock. Now, anything must be possible.
“Thank you.” His words seemed less and less his own and he murmured, “What are you doing to me?” as he angled his hips and found her slit again, awed by the velvety sigh he brought to her mouth.
He nudged below, parting her entrance ever so gradually, his own eyelids lowering at the potential of being inside another person, inside Thorn.
He, an ex-cyborg, inside her.
There was nothing fake about this, though he sensed he was larger than she could easily take. He pushed and heard her sigh once more – a sound that tapered off to nothing when he had his ear beside her mouth. He went to thrust deeper but a movement caught his eye.
Another tentacle crept upon the floor.
Persistence was not a virtue, or not for his rivals.
Without pulling out of Thorn, he reached to the other side where Smorg lay, unsheathed, grasped the hilt, and flung the weapon at the tentacle, spearing it to the floor.
A shriek rent the air.
King of multitasking.
“Now we can do what we have to,” he murmured to Thorn, and she gasped as he forged deeper. Her mouth opened, her thighs spread wider – tensing as if she wished to wrap them about him, but he flattened her to the cage and thrust hard, fucked her again until he deemed he’d split her if he went further.
He had to ask. “Will you hate me afterward?”
She locked her gaze to his and appeared to comprehend.
“Will you?” He gave a small thrust, felt the smaller penis nudge at her clit and began to rock against her.
“I...” She swallowed, her eyes clearing of confusion. “No.”
“No, you won’t hate me?”
Her grunts as he rocked back and forth seemed the best answer he’d get.
Smorg squeaked, “Hey! This is nasty. I think I have a tentacle allergy. Led?”
“Shush. Unless you want to be left here afterward.”
The sword’s grumbling lessened.
The extreme pressure of her cunt about him left no doubt about fit. Though he dearly wanted to fuck her deeper. He should’ve downloaded a sex manual. He gripped the metal above her and groaned.
“Gods! That feels so good. Let me in, Thorn, if you want my cum.”
She sucked on his shoulder as he fucked her shallow, in...out. With her fingers, she grappled with the cage, tugged at the ties, and pushed her self onto him. The squeeze and suck of drenched flesh, the devotion of her body to lust, to him, to his cock spearing into her – nirvana.
“Let me in, girl. More.”
Something relaxed, gave, and his next thrust shoved just that little further, if not fully impaled.
He tensed, his minor cock engorging, hard and humming.
He’d been in battles. He’d been in wars. He’d been hit by shrapnel and lasers, had a rail gun strike down a row of cyborgs beside him in one tumultuous blow. He’d felt fear and excitement, had his mind shafted by the agonies of wounds.
Nothing was like this. Nothing was like immersing himself in Thorn, while she crushed down on his cock and moaned, while her pussy squeezed down on his dick, pulsing around it. She was coming.
And so was he. Blood thundered in his ears. The gush through his cock tore up from his balls and made him figure he was a god for all of those few overwrought, humbling, and violent seconds.
“Fuck!” He’d come inside a female. First time ever.
He stayed inside her, feeling her trembles, her shudders, her weakness, the way she slumped with her forehead bumping his chest. Weakness in the face of his overwhelming strength. Again it humbled him. He’d never been humble, never been brought so high and so low.
He’d do anything for her – which tripped his logic path and he knew, knew, this must be false. Hormonal response to procreation. Yet it felt so good, so right.
“Sheesh. Fast one weren’t you?”
“Smorg.” He leaned his face into Thorn’s white hair. “You will die, soon. The death of a thousand, thousand swords.”
The sword raspberried. “Does not make sense.” It couldn’t laugh but it could raspberry?
“I’ll have you know that thrassians have two-stage sex. The catalyst come has to be delivered.” He pulled out, leaving her dripping and glazed of eye. He kissed her nose, her mouth, mumbled against it. “Got to do you the other way around.”
Led wasn’t sure how he’d acquired these facts, but he knew a thrassian had to use his minor dick to get a girl pregnant. Stood to reason he’d need to do it twice to get Thorn to stop cycling, if this worked at all.
“Come, girl. Let me loosen these and spin you around.” He plucked and pulled at the bonds and belt and freed her. Getting her to turn and present her ass was easy. Would’ve been easier if his evil side hadn’t woken.
He shouldn’t. He wanted to show her off to the other males, to turn with her held face-out against him, to taunt them with her, with the evidence of his triumph leaking down her inner thighs.
*Smorg, should I?* He vomited forth the vision of his imagined victory, not thinking of how he was asking a small AI for advice. A snarky, self-centered AI.
*No.* Simplest answer ever from Smorg.
There. He had his advice.
Chapter 9
Though she remembered everything that’d happened – why the tentacle was speared to the floor by Smorg, why she shook, and why come trickled down her legs, this was the first moment when Thorn truly remembered and understood.
Yet she desired him. Still she wanted him in her, plowing her, rocking her and making her shudder with the blows of his body slapping against her.
She remembered calling those who hammered at the bars of this room. The metal rang and jangled. Their arms and tentacles wormed about, reaching for her.
She didn’t want them anymore, only the hands and tongue, teeth and cock of this Fellen Zed who wasn’t who he was. Led...Rik? And he’d swung her into place before him, with those hands of his roving over her front. They slipped, cruising in the sweat and the saliva that’d dripped from her mouth and his, the come that he spread across her front. He was smearing it everywhere.
His knee propped her up from behind, shoved between her legs, and she opened them wider, wider. “Show them. Show them what they’ve missed.”
The howls from the others grew louder as did their banging on the metal, the rattling. It was an uproar that stirred her, emboldened her.
Thorn rolled her hips, showing them. Her breathing and the heat of her face defied her smaller need to not do as encouraged to by the male holding her up for display. The generator cage behind them creaked. He’d propped himself against it.
He was not lover, not violator – for she’d begged for it. He was...her fucker. There was a vast difference.
Her moans should be ones of protest but she chased his roving hand with her own. Gasping when he tugged and squashed her nipples, trying to guide him lower where that nub of flesh waited – she craved, needed, sobbed.
He found her mouth, and forced those fingers inside her, presenting her with slobber and tears, and the taste of her and him.
“More,” she choked past those fingers. Then she sucked on them, gobbling up the mix of flavors. More. More sex.
“More?” He chuckled, a strange new sound fro
m him. He was a male who didn’t do her bidding. That...riled her until the annoyance was replaced by fear. What was she becoming?
Was this her?
The bones of his hands shifted under her fingers, the spurs of his claws pricking her just as his cocks pushed at her rear. Somehow he fed his arm across her breasts, squashing them and holding her to him. He pulled her upward, higher, until the tip of his smaller cock shoved at her, pushing at the circle guarding her ass.
“Let them see everything. All of you. Your cunt. How you wriggle for me.”
He sank his smaller cock into her as the larger one found and reamed her cunt. His fingers spread her pussy lips as he pushed his body forward and backward. Two fingers intruded past his cock. In her. Filling both her holes. She should not want this.
Never want this.
Except...
She did.
Thorn arched and cried, tears of joy and sorrow. Being fucked by cocks and fingers, her own hand pulling at his side to make him go deeper, and at his fingers to make them fuck her too. She managed to slide hers between cock and thighs, to touch where he entered her. The tight seal and the abundant fluids she’d produced to ease his entry, the knowledge of what he did, somehow this increased her arousal.
He fucked her because she wanted it. Bewildering but true. She must accept this flaw, must revel in it, absorb and reconcile with it, or it would destroy her. As what she had been, as the creature that lured, she’d be nothing. A thing. A mindless thing for fucking.
Her eyes rolled upward and she gasped then held that last breath. The orgasm rolled in, suffocating thoughts. Shaking, and with every muscle straining, she reached behind her and clutched his flesh to her body, and held them there, together, keeping him in her, until the final stream of his come had erupted.
He lowered her to the stony floor and began to lick her – exploring between her legs as if the fluids there were some new delight. A feast for the conquering male. She wriggled under the attention. Unusually gross and it soothed her.
Perhaps it was what thrassians loved and did.
Idly, Thorn caressed the rows of dark bristles on his head. As long as her finger, the harshness of them woke her slowly to what she’d done.
So tired. She almost didn’t care what she’d done. Almost. Irresolute, she wondered why. Her own compulsions waned. Through the slit of her barely open eyelids, she watched the three strangers lope away. No longer did she draw them. Her flame had been extinguished. The moths fluttered back to their mundane lives. Now she only had this one persistent bug to contend with.
“Led?” she said, the croak in her voice surprising her. She pulled at his hair. “I think... Yes, I do think you are a bad man.”
He rose on his forearms from where he’d been crouched between her legs. His claws scraped at the floor to either side until he placed one hand on her belly. The precise sharpness of each claw fascinated her with how they pricked yet did not cut. No blood. He could eviscerate her yet did not.
A wide straight smile spread. “I know. Just not as bad as I was.”
“This is better?” She laid her head back down, observing him. “I think that worked. My cycle has ceased.”
“Before I’d have at the least severed a tentacle or three.”
Smorg grumbled. “And yet there I was stuck mid-gory tentacle the whole time. It’s hard having fun when I’m there.”
She’d nearly forgotten his presence.
“Am I sorry?” Led cocked an eyebrow. “Wait, no, I’m not. It is your function, sword. To pierce things for your not-hero.”
The ceiling above wavered and she tried to close her legs, because of course it was the right and moral thing to do. “We need to get to the spaceport?” She frowned, searching for the details.
“When I say I’m done.” His long, dexterous tongue reapplied itself to...to her clit.
Thorn gasped and realized that pleasure could be found, even when...she wasn’t at the heights of this new...new...
“Fuck!” She clutched his head to her and decided to stop thinking.
Chapter 10
Thorn rested her face in her palms and splayed fingers, observing the bustling spaceport through the gaps. The white chair under her wobbled if she shifted to the side. The crowds swarmed back and forth before her in this wide, high-ceilinged area, carrying or driving cases, with children and the occasional weird pet in tow. Now and then the roar of a ship’s engines penetrated the walls. Those embarking and those newly arrived mixed.
Her tail tapped against her leg as she tried to rake though her problems.
She had to find her mother.
For that to be top of her mind was a little weird.
Ledderik had helped her clean up. At least her uniform had been intact. A few threads had popped but nothing was noticeable now she wore her red jacket. She’d set her uniform to a simple gray.
She was sore in intimate places, tired, and bewildered.
Even thinking through what had happened was a maze of strangeness.
She was half siren. When her cycle hit full force, males came to her, falling over their feet to get to her, and she lost all sense of right, wrong, self, and morality. It was what it was. She must not blame herself. But maybe she could fix it. There must be a way.
Half siren and so her mother had to be a siren species. Nomad had always avoided telling her which s’kar he’d bedded. Her father had lied to her. That hurt, but he was dead, and she could no longer ask him anything. Her questions must be for her mother.
Last of all, she’d lost the Jocelyn and had been kicked out of her own freakin’ race, and was no longer allowed to call herself s’kar.
This would wreck most people.
She firmed her lips and stared unfocused through the cage of her fingers. Once a starship captain, always a starship captain. She’d get past this and forge a new life.
The night wore on and morning was nigh...or a few hours away.
Be arrested or be gone from BART by morning. She’d bet the Hierarchy had pulled a few strings to get her free to leave. Or maybe the BART authorities wanted her gone and preferred to bluff and not to arrest her?
She sighed, dragging her hands down her face. One big problem. She didn’t know which planet to go to. Siren species were scattered across the galaxy.
The chair beside her creaked.
The ex-cyborg, Led, was still with her and why was that? Like...why? Sex? That seemed a paltry reason.
Nothing was worth this uncertain future. Misfortune dogged her.
“Why are you still here, Led?”
As Fellen Zed he was drawing attention – even sitting as he was – relaxed. Of course he dwarfed her, so people would make comparisons. Smorg was once more sheathed and across his back.
His forearms rested on his thighs and his gaze centered between his feet where his tail lurked. “I’m just wondering when you’ll figure out I’m your best ally.”
“You know I can’t pay you? And I thought you were due at LoL? I thought using a loaner was expensive?”
If the siren attraction was the cause of him staying, why couldn’t she detect it in herself?
“Maybe I like you?”
“It’s the sex isn’t it? You know that’s not ever happening again? That’s not my normal.”
He popped up a brow, regarding her sideways. “Partly the sex. I know it’s not your normal.” His mouth contorted. “Hmmm. Let’s see. To list all the reasons – because it seems like it’ll avoid a lot of messing around and miscommunicating.
“There’s the sexual attraction. And I’m damn curious. And I like killing, and you attract people who want you dead. And...”
She’d almost stopped him at sexual attraction, but he knew. She wasn’t being coy. Sex was this thing that was a part of life, but it wasn’t what had happened to her because that was yuck. Disgusting. She’d had stuff all over her, and even she knew that semen was supposed to go inside and stay there. Weren’t supposed to have a horde of rampant dick-wav
ing males chasing her.
None of that.
Okay. Maybe he thought she wanted more. Maybe she had liked it while it occurred, but it was unnatural to want all that stuff. Her thoughts were running away from her, trampling her thinking.
He wanted more sex, but she planned to stop it dead. Somehow. She wanted to be a s’kar with a regular cycle...because she still hoped to be welcomed into the fold. Back to her people. It was possible?
She swallowed, pushed away the anarchy in her head, sort of sweeping it into a big, icky pile, and she addressed Led. “And what?”
The lines on his brow said this puzzled him. “You have somehow given me purpose. That might sound strange for a cyborg to say, but it’s true. I’ve always had a master to follow, all my three hundred years. Lord Zarblu was the finest. Then he left me. I was lost.” He nodded to himself.
And now he was what? Following her?
He sat up and rapped out the next, “You’re not my master, let’s get that straight. But you’re purpose. My masters supplied that. I was lost. Now I’m found. Simple.”
That was actually ringing with truth and somewhat profound, and it made her feel a little sick.
She had purpose too, but supplying it to another was dangerous. “You mustn’t rely on me. Look what’s happening every time I take a step. It’s chaos. I’ll get you killed.”
“I’ll take that risk. Whatever planet you want to go to, I will deposit this body there and somehow wrangle another from LoL.”
Somehow? “You have the money for it? I hope?”
“Not...yet.”
“Fuck, Led. You’re insane. Worse than I am. I have to find my mother. To clear up who I am and figure out what to do about...about this.” She tapped her chest. “But I don’t know where my mother is or even who she is.”
A blue, cargo-carrying bot broke from the crowd. Twice her height and width, it did a right-hand turn and came toward Thorn, stopping just in time to avoid squashing her, joints hissing.
What the?
It stayed put and she relaxed.
“I see.” Led paused and attained that faraway look that meant he was accessing info. “Siren species are located on forty-three different planets. Luckily they tend to stay in enclaves.”
Blade (Dark Monster Fantasy Book 3) Page 7
