by J. L. Hilton
“My love is not a pittance thrown to a beggar, nor a treasure stolen by a thief, but a tribute to a hero. Which do you choose to be?”
Clutching her hands, he grew very still and silent. He didn’t even breathe. The rain continued falling on the vid, with drips and trickles and taps that sounded so much like the Glinnish language.
Then he lifted his head and his mouth was on hers.
He swept her up off the ground and lifted her in his arms, his lips taking everything she could give and wanting more than her mouth. Falling to his knees, he lowered her into the pile of bedding and untied her dress. His passion unchecked, his hands—his beautiful, gentle, musical hands—played over her body. Wherever she moaned or writhed, he lingered until she was gasping for breath.
Yes, she loved him. And Duin was right, she had always loved him. But she relegated that love to something less, because of human conventions. Now she was free to love him completely.
She kissed his skin in savage mouthfuls that she knew would disappear in minutes with his rapid healing. Reaching down, she unbuttoned his pants and took hold of him, squeezing him in her hand and feeling him throb in response. He stripped off his clothes and she guided his anatomy to hers. The dampness of her, wetter than water, anointed him. But he held back.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m female. I’m not that different from a Glin.”
“But, I’ve never…”
When she realized what he was saying, she hesitated. “Belloc…”
“Tell me what to do.”
“Do whatever you want to do,” she urged him. “Please.”
He thrust into her, and she cried out. He immediately withdrew. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” she gasped, clinging to him.
“No?” He tried to sit up.
“I mean, no, don’t stop.” Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pulled him into her, until the pleasure was almost painful. Male Glin grew in response to pressure, gradually expanding to fill the female so that the pair couldn’t separate while mating in the water. But Belloc was already huge.
He shuddered, groaning incoherently in Glinnish, and pushed as far as he could. His hips moved in sinuous patterns, grinding into her. She rolled them over so she was above him, and he went even deeper. Crying out her name, he gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises. The pain only spurred her to move faster.
J’ni rocked on him, which wasn’t the way Glin mated. But this was how humans mated, and she wanted to feel him moving in and out of her. She sang out a wild, erratic song of satisfaction.
He did not close his eyes but watched her, the way her hair framed her face and her breasts swayed as she rode him.
Then Belloc sat up, holding her in his lap. Every inch of him was against her, wrapped around her, thrust inside of her. Her tongue sought his, to complete the connection, as her thighs gripped his narrow waist.
He lifted her, pinning her between his body and the rain vid as his muscles rippled in rhythmic motions, similar to the way he moved when he swam—but slower. His fingers wove through her hair and she felt the strong pulsing of him deep inside her.
“Look at me.” He spoke in Glinnish, and when her eyes met his, he growled with his release. She felt a flood of emotions flowing through her body. Pain, triumph, sorrow, joy, all merged into one shuddering euphoria, as he held nothing back. And she took it all in—the desire in his eyes, the breath from his mouth, the fluid of his body, the adoration from his heart—screaming out her own cathartic climax.
When they were emptied, he lowered her to the floor. He didn’t rest but kissed her mouth, her breasts, her hair.
“Thank you for the gift of this wonderful memory.”
“It was a gift to both of us,” she said.
For a long time, they held one another, enjoying the freedom to explore all that was unknown. Then he touched the nagyx upon her chest.
“J’ni?”
“Yes?”
“If I am Tah Ga’lin, it means Duin killed my family.”
“He was one of many, Belloc. You know the story.” She touched his cheek, brushing her fingers over his stern brow.
“I never knew that it was my story, too. And your story.” He lifted the nagyx in his hand. “You were there, in his soul.”
“I was a child at the time. I can’t imagine I would have wanted to kill your family.”
The sudden rage on his face was frightening. “No, you would not,” he snarled. Snapping the bava cord with his hands, he pulled the nagyx from her throat.
“Belloc, give me that. What are you doing?”
But he was already on his feet and out the door of the hut. She grabbed her dress, stepping into it and pulling it up her hips as she ran after him. When Belloc reached the door of the compartment she shared with Duin, he slapped his hand on the wall and zapped the panel. The door opened.
Inside, Duin was sitting at the table. A large window on the wall in front of him displayed a live feed from Belloc’s hut. J’ni could see the pillows and Belloc’s clothes strewn across his floor, and the rain vid still playing.
Belloc looked at the window, realized what it was, and looked at Duin. “Did you enjoy watching us?” he yelled at Duin in Glinnish. “Perhaps you might return the favor for me? But, you can’t, can you? Because I am still inside of her. You won’t be able to get into her for days!”
“Six hours, at most,” Duin replied calmly in English. “Unlike Glin females, humans have a natural lubrication which causes our fluids to break down and leave quickly. Besides, she has two entrances. You’d know that if you studied more porn and played less Mysteria.”
Belloc swung his fist, and J’ni thought he was going to hit Duin. Instead, he knocked several items off the table. A bottle shattered on the wall, spraying glass and water across the image of his empty hut. Belloc gripped the nagyx in his fist, shaking it at Duin.
“You can’t have everything. My mother’s sanity, my family’s lives, my childhood, my destiny, J’ni’s body and her soul. Meh! MEH!” He screamed at Duin.
“And what will you do about it?” Duin asked. It wasn’t a challenge, or disparagement, it was simply a question.
For a moment, J’ni expected Belloc to attack him. Duin seemed prepared for the same. She inhaled a sharp gasp of breath, which caught Belloc’s attention. He glanced at her.
“I’ll sit down.” Belloc fell into a nearby chair.
“Yes, I think that’s wise,” said Duin. J’ni was still standing at the edge of the room with her dress half on, and Duin gestured to the chair between him and Belloc. “Would you like to have a seat, nagloim?”
“No.” She shook her head. Uncomfortable under his gaze, she finished tying up her dress. Knowing that Duin wasn’t jealous was one thing, but knowing he had watched her with Belloc was something else, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Duin addressed Belloc. “So, do you plan to reclaim your birthright, Prince Kehlen, and reestablish the Tah Ga’lin? Perhaps you can finish what your family started and have yourself declared the King of the Rain and God of the Sea.”
“Why would I rebuild something that means nothing to me? I am not like you, Duin. I don’t give a shit about Glin.”
“Then, what do you give a shit about?” Duin asked.
Belloc looked at J’ni. Then he looked at the nagyx in his hand. “I have no soul to give her. Maybe I did, once, but it was lost…because of you.”
Belloc chucked the nagyx at Duin. The stone hit the table, skidded across the surface, and fell off onto the floor. The younger Glin got up and went out the garden door.
J’ni watched him go, then looked at the wall in front of Duin. “Why did you watch us?”
“I wanted to know what you would tell him about his family. But the rest was too entertaining to turn off. Would you like to see it? I made a vid.”
“No.” She turned away from Duin and went out into the garden.
Belloc was sitting beside the fish
pond. He still didn’t have any clothes on. She sat beside him.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea Duin would watch us.”
Belloc blew a short puff of air over his lips, and waved his hand. “Meh, I don’t care about that. He can watch whatever he wants, he’s your nagyx. I’m the one you should be mad at, for watching you both at the lake on Wandalin. I watched you in the fish pond, too, when you thought I was playing Mysteria.”
“Really?”
The look on his face answered her question.
“Is voyeurism another Glin custom, like polygamy?”
Belloc’s face lit up. “You would marry me, J’ni?”
“Marry you?”
“That would be epic.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the compartment, calling out to Duin.
“Yes?” Duin looked up from the table. “Do you want to break some more things?”
“I’d break your neck, if you weren’t her nagyx.”
“More of your legendary restraint.”
“What if J’ni married me? Then she would also have the title of Tah Ga’lin. And you would be Tah Ga’lin as well.”
Duin’s face hardened with indignation. “It is not my ambition to rise above my fellow Glin.”
“The title would mean nothing if I was married to a hero of the uprising,” said Belloc.
“But you’d be married to me,” said J’ni.
“I’d be married to him, through you. Just as you’re married to Ullu.” Belloc turned to Duin in frustration. “You didn’t explain that to her?”
“It doesn’t matter who is married to whom,” said Duin. “We must keep the truth of your identity to ourselves. Just as there are those desperate enough to worship you, there are many more who would happily kill you, and anyone associated with you. I’ve had enough individuals trying to kill me as it is.”
“He’s spent his whole life hiding,” said J’ni. “Why can’t Belloc be free? You want the rest of Glin to be free. Is he any less deserving of freedom, because of some accident of birth?”
“Or some purposeful death?” Belloc said to Duin in an accusatory tone. “You’re no different from the Tikati you hate so much.”
“I am nothing like the Tikati!”
Duin was on his feet and yelling into Belloc’s face so fast, J’ni hardly saw him move.
He thrust a finger into Belloc’s bare chest, and the power of that thrust forced Belloc back three feet, reminding J’ni of how strong Glin were. If Duin and Belloc did decide to truly hurt one another, she would have no way to stop them. She would have to call the police—hell, the whole Air & Space Force—and it would be all over the Stellarnet.
“If I thought for one moment you really believed that, I would—”
“What? What would you do, Elder Duin, Hero of the Uprising? Kill me in small pieces? Gut me alive and stuff me with driznit? Tell J’ni how different you are from the Tikati who tortured you.”
Duin did not rise to the provocation. His anger vanished and he answered in a calm, steady voice. “Belloc, I know you’re a little overwhelmed by all of this. But I am not going to apologize for my part in ending the Tah Ga’lin. Nor will I downplay my involvement in those events that killed your family. It had to be done.”
“Would you have killed me? If my mother hadn’t escaped with me, would you have murdered a child?”
“No. But you’re not a child, now.”
“Duin,” J’ni said reproachfully.
Duin inclined his head to her, and backed away from Belloc. “Your family wanted to set themselves apart, to own what belonged to all of us, to claim superiority over all other Glin. Just look at the name, Tah Ga’lin. ‘Sparkles in the ocean of Glin.’ It was setting a dangerous precedent that would lead to even more horrors. Look at what the Tikati have done, and they’re not even pretending to be holy.”
Belloc sighed and sat down on the bed. “A few days ago—shit, a few hours ago—I admired you, I envied you,” he said to Duin. “Now that I know your ideals are at my expense, and the lives of my family, it’s hard for me to say that the freedom of Glin is worth the cost.”
“But when you thought that the dead were unrelated to you, when it had nothing to do with you, then the cost was acceptable?” asked Duin.
Belloc didn’t answer.
“Understand, some things must be had, regardless of the cost. Think of the price I’ve paid for fighting Tikati, for killing them and taking one of their ships. I’ve lost my family and my village. For coming here to get help, I’ve been physically assaulted. I was captured and tortured. I almost lost J’ni. Thrice.” Duin held up three fingers. “There was the bombing of her compartment, her rendition to Adiri, and the Tikati attack. But I will continue to pay that price, to the last drop of water within me. Because Glin, the world and the people, must be free.”
“That’s easy for you to decide for yourself, to choose to risk your life. But you’re making the choice for others, too. For me, and J’ni, and everyone on Asteria. You don’t have the right.”
“Yes, I do. I have every right to make that choice, because it’s the right choice. Tyranny is not a moral ambiguity. It is wrong, and it’s always wrong, whether the oppressor be Tikat or Tah Ga’lin. All enemies of free thought and free will must be resisted.”
J’ni sat beside Belloc on the bed while Duin paced the narrow floorspace in front of them. The three of them waded silently through their own thoughts, until J’ni spoke.
“What exactly does it mean, on Glin, to be married?”
Belloc responded first. “It means that I love you. It means that our lives, our destinies, our hearts are connected.”
Duin snorted. “It means you share family, food and fucking—if you’re fortunate—until you die or get sick of each other.”
“Would marrying Belloc change my status as your nagyx?”
“No. Just as I am still married to Ullu. Marriage and nagyx are two different things. The nagyx is an unbreakable spiritual connection. It persists beyond death, and existed before birth. Marriage, in many cases, doesn’t even persist to the end of a rain season.”
“Ours will,” Belloc said petulantly.
“I haven’t agreed to anything, yet.”
Duin laughed at that. “There are two great tragedies in life, Belloc. One is not getting what you want.”
“What’s the other?” asked Belloc.
“Getting it.” Duin turned to J’ni. “Which tragedy shall befall him, nagloim?”
J’ni looked at them. Belloc, sincere and imploring, dazzlingly beautiful, devoted to loving her more than life. Duin, pacing like a Shakespearian actor strutting and fretting his hour upon the stage, had filled her soul and inspired her to be more than she’d ever thought possible.
“Can I love you both?”
Duin exhaled. “If we don’t kill each other first.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
J’ni and Belloc were engrossed in the Asternet when Duin returned from visiting the children. She was researching marriage laws and submitting webforms. Belloc was reading about wedding customs and ordering J’ni a sapphire engagement ring from Earth.
She wore Duin’s shimmering nagyx again. Duin had explained how his offer of pillows and blankets to Belloc was a symbolic way of acknowledging that the two of them shared her, and that they were a family. After that, she had accepted Belloc’s marriage proposal, though he insisted she had asked him.
Duin was offended by the idea that humans required someone else to decree whether or not they were married. But Belloc wanted to do everything according to her customs. So, there they were.
“You cut your hair,” Duin said, pouring himself a cup of tea.
“It was getting too long.”
“I like it long. Belloc, don’t you like her hair long?”
“I like it however J’ni likes it. Do you like any of these dresses?”
“I don’t think I’d look good in a dress,” said Duin. “But if you insist, there are several in the closet I coul
d put on for you.”
“Not you. J’ni?”
“They’re all beautiful,” she replied. “You pick whatever you want me to wear.”
“Or want to take off of her,” Duin suggested.
“Does it have to be white?” Belloc asked.
“That’s traditional where I come from, but this isn’t exactly a traditional wedding. It’s the first marriage between a human and an extra-terrestrial in history.”
“Given some of Earth’s wilder mythologies, I’m not so sure,” Duin said.
Belloc’s first contribution to her blog was a post announcing their engagement. Responses across the Stellarnet either congratulated her or accused her of staging the wedding for publicity. There were a smattering of protestations about her being deranged or betraying her species. Other rumors claimed Belloc was Duin’s brother, or son, and that the whole thing was incest on top of bestiality. That it was a menage-a-trois drew ire from some and support from others. While interracial and same-sex marriages were legal in most nations of Earth, polygamy still struggled for widespread legal and social recognition.
On Earth—and specifically her homeland, the United States—marriage laws covered “men” and “women,” which meant Homo sapiens, not Glinnis hydrophilis. And only two at a time. But the ESCC had jurisdiction over Asteria, and as far as it was concerned, she and Belloc would be legally married. Duin too, if he wanted to put his electronic signature on the webforms. According to the Asteria Charter: “Due to the incredibly diverse nature of extrasolar populations, it is not the position of the ESCC to determine what constitutes a marriage; we are only in a position to acknowledge whatever form such a union takes according to the personal beliefs of that union’s adherents.” There was no legal limit on the number of those “adherents,” their gender, race, or even their species.
Duin shook his head in exaggerated disapproval as he looked at all of the windows on the wall, full of dresses, rings, laws and webforms. “Anah. Just say it, and let’s be done with it. Please. Anah.” Duin gripped Belloc’s chin and moved the younger Glin’s mouth, while mimicking Belloc’s deep, stoic voice. “Anah.”
