Miari throws her pleasure to the wind, head fallen back on her neck as she relaxes into my arms. I never thought I could bring the pleasure sound from her in such abandon. It makes me proud.
“I’m glad you have your priorities straight. You are really bad at surprises aren’t you?”
“I do not like not knowing about the content of these gifts,” I growl, nuzzling further into her throat.
“I got that. And I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with this.” She blinks at me with one eye, and I feel that we share a secret between us even though this is a fact that is known.
I am pleased as we share my throne seat and I feed her delicacies from the platters of foods that are brought to us, and accept the adulation of visitors from across Voraxia, and then across the cosmos. They are all here for her. And they are all warranted, because even though I do not unwrap her, she is still a gift to us all.
I stroke Miari’s back, her neck, her face. We whisper soft words to each other. She feeds me morsels even though this is not done in Voraxia. Only the male feeds his female, while the female feeds their young. Perhaps it will be different with her. Perhaps she will want to fulfill more of the roles of a male. Perhaps she will want me to care for our youngling equally. The thoughts do not trouble me. I revel in them, for like the gifts she presents, they are new and exciting and unknown.
“Is this one of the dignitaries?” She says as the night grows dark and the festivities are at their most boisterous.
I glance up, away from her face for the first moment since she has given me her gift, and see a larger procession heading towards us. “Hexa. This is Reoran. She is what they call Oosa Dua of the Eighth Quadrant, a constellation called Oosmo.”
“It’s a she?”
“Of course,” I say and I nudge my Rakukanna until she rises. “It is clear, is it not?” And this time, as I rise to stand in my rightful place beside her, it is I who tease.
She shoots me an expression that is full of pleasure as she straightens and turns to face Reoran, approaching.
Reoran and the Oosa do not have skeletons in the way Voraxians and humans do, nor exoskeletons in the ways of other beings. The Oosa have thick, gelatinous blue flesh whose translucence gives view onto blue blood and darker blue organs. Blob-like, the Oosa delegation roll their way forward.
“Oosa Dua Reoran, you honor us on this day,” I say, pitching my voice loud and stepping towards the approaching delegation. As I do, Miari steps up too and I am shocked when I feel her slight, soft palm slide against my own.
She grips my hand in a gesture I do not understand, and though it is odd to receive a delegation linked in this way, I am warmed by her touch and too moved to risk releasing her. I get the sense that this is another affection gesture and I am pleased that my touch is what provides her comfort.
Reoran trills, patches of her flesh lighting up as she speaks. The lit patches of flesh, combined with the trills are what make up the Oosa language. Because of it, the translators don’t catch it and one of the other Oosa rolls forward and repeats the words of their commander in high Voraxian.
“Our Oosa Dua could not be more pleased that you have found such a strong, shapely female to occupy the throne of Voraxia at your side,” the interpreter says, though it sounds as if he speaks from deep below a water’s surface.
I open my mouth to give thanks, but my Rakukanna surprises me again by stepping forward slightly and giving our guests a generous bow. She does not release my hand. “I am honored by your praise. Thank you so much for coming so far to honor us.”
Reoran’s trills grow louder and the light-bursts in her skin become stronger and glow in more frequent intervals. The interpreter waits a moment for her to finish trilling and as she does, bright patches of color flare across the skins of many other Oosa gathered around her.
He says, “Our Oosa Dua Reoran is very taken with the Rakukanna. She would like to give the Rakukanna a proper greeting.”
My back tenses, electricity firing through it as Miari turns slightly towards me. “That would be great.”
The Oosa all trill wildly then, clustering closer towards my Rakukanna. I quickly pull her back and hold her tight to my side. I feel black heat fill my ridges but I do not betray the emotion, for I understand its provenance and the Oosa, despite their request, mean my Miari no harm.
I smile and bow very slightly. “Apologies, Reoran, but my Rakukanna does not know the greeting customs of the Oosa and as you might recall, we Voraxian males tend to be possessive of our females. I would prefer if my Rakukanna offer you her human greeting instead.”
I turn to Miari and bring her forward as I approach Reoran, who’s trills have died into a disappointed purr. “You can offer Reoran your hand, Rakukanna, but you will not be engaging the Oosa in their greeting ritual this day or any other.”
Miari turns to me with her eyes rounded. She nods and bites her bottom lip and I can feel her body heat beneath her flawless berry-colored skin.
“Oh…yes. Alright.” She extends her hand and I feel her start beside me as Reoran rolls forward then extends, elongating from a blob that is only roughly hip-height to a height that nearly rivals Miari’s.
Reoran’s body folds over and around Miari’s hand, sucking her into the amorphous blue, trilling all the while. Patches of color flare in her skin and I try to ignore the sharp tang of jealousy that leaves a grainy residue on my tongue and a dark sensation in my mouth.
The Oosa are honorable beings, I know this, yet as Reoran pulls Miari into her own gelatinous blue up to the elbow and explodes in a light burst of color, I have to put this to a stop.
I can feel my Rakukanna’s surprise when her grip tightens around my hand, and gently reel her back into my body. I love the pressure of her round bottom against my xora, even though the xerbu.
Xok me… This is only the first of eight delegations we will receive… How will I suffer so long without having her? How will I watch others receive pleasure from her touch as Reoran has? It incenses me that another touches her. I want her all to myself.
I bid Reoran another thanks, and watch the contingent from Quadrant Eight as they roll into the density of the crowd and immediately come together, blue flesh rendering distinct bodies indistinct one from the other. Bright light flares over seamless skin as the Oosa, in plain view, mate with one another.
“Stars be…are they…is that…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, but stares after them slack-jawed.
“Hexa. The Oosa are very generous with one another. They mate when they greet one another, they mate when they depart, they mate in celebration, in joy, in sadness, in anger.”
“So she…wanted to mate with me?”
“Hexa.” I brush her hair back from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear in a way that makes my pulse quicken. “Who would not? Only the sightless cannot see how beautiful you are.”
She bites her bottom lip and looks away, then hazards a glance back up at the Oosa. “How…I don’t get it. How would they have mated with me?”
My xora bucks, both furious and fascinated at the thought of picturing her red flesh in the pile of Oosa as they worshipped her form, hers the only defined body among them. I clear my throat.
“They are more liquid than solid mass, and can redefine their forms to fit almost any container. It is one of the reasons that they fare so well in battle. They are almost impossible to capture and contain, and are surprisingly hard to kill though it would not look like it. Their skin regenerates, they can be stabbed many, many times without faltering. They cannot be crushed or hit. You have to carve them up and burn the pieces to truly know that you have killed one of them.”
“So are you saying that they’d…make a dick enter me?”
“A dick? You mean a xora?”
She nods.
I return the gesture. “Hexa. Their skin would enter you as much as could fit in as many holes as they could fit them. Your tight rear hole,” I whisper and I drop my hand to the smooth curve
of her bottom.
It is covered in a thin, woven fabric the color and texture of cream. I can nearly see the darkened shadow of her sex through the fabric. I want to touch it. Cannot believe that in a matter of moments, I will once again reenter her tight heat.
She swallows and her lips part. I lean down closer to her, wishing to taste her mouth and trade the kiss with her. “They would enter your mouth.” I brush my fingers, all six of them, over her plump lower lip. She licks it and her tongue flicks against my claws. I shudder.
“Your breeding mound, most of all.” I cup her core through the thin shift and she gasps.
“The Oosa trade in sex across galaxies. Pleasure males and females are revered in their constellations and are sought after across as many Quadrants as the Oosa are able to strike trades with.
“Their planets are well endowed with mineral resources, and they pay exceptional prices for what they consider exotic. Judging by Reoran’s reaction towards you, I don’t doubt that she would give up half her riches just to lay with you once.”
Miari’s hands reach out and grab my arms above the elbow. Her head falls back on her neck and I continue to massage her core through her skirt. Against my palm, the skirt dampens, and then becomes fully wet. My Xanaxana purrs loudly.
Miari drops her forehead to my chest. “Good thing I lay only with you.”
I snarl and grab her by the back of the neck. With one hand controlling her upper body and the other hand controlling her below the waist, I feel powerful in ways that I never felt as commander of this quadrant of the cosmos.
I lean down to give her this kiss, but before I can, a voice slices between us, severing the intimacy we share. My ridges flash red, irritated, but when I turn to see who has interrupted us, the color darkens.
The male before me glances to my ridges and his mouth turns ups through there is no pleasure in it. “I do not mean to interrupt. I have come to present myself to the Raku of Voraxia, and to his Rakukanna.”
He bows his head and I do not like the way that his gaze slides to Miari and pierces her like the slim, sharp spikes that line the backs of his four arms.
I edge my body instinctively in front of Miari’s. I do not care that it is an insult. I will not have her near the most dangerous male in the eight quadrants without anything less than my body as the shield between his and hers.
“Rhorkanterannu,” I snarl through clenched teeth, “I am humbled. So few Rakus before me have had the honor of receiving a Niahhorru King.”
“There are no kings among pirates,” he counters and takes a step — not forward, but left so that Miari is once again in his line of sight. I growl.
Rhorkanterannu just makes the pleasureless expression again with his mouth. “And this is a special occasion. There are whispers about the discovery of a moon in the Voraxian belt full of beautiful, breedable females. I had to come and see for myself.”
His gaze passes again to Miari. “For once, it looks like the whispers weren’t wrong. She is beautiful. You must be very proud. And eager. I wonder what you’re even doing here. If I had a body like that to rut, I’d mount her for spans. Eons.”
He tilts his head, upper hands clasping contemplatively below his chin while his lower hands form fists at his sides. I see stars with the composure it takes to remain where I stand and not launch myself at the creature who calls himself Rhorkanterannu, pirate king of Kor.
“Is it true that the humans have two holes for mounting? I know that the Voraxians have only one stem, so do you rut into both of your hybrid’s holes one after the other, or do you use your hands? Do your claws not hurt them? They do seem delicate. And soft…” He licks his lips, his glassy eyes gleam, and my composure rips apart.
I push Miari behind me and attack. My vision is a haze of color. The world bends and blurs. My claws itch to find purchase in the Niahhorru scum’s thick outer hide. They wear exoskeletons, as we do, though theirs form in thicker plates that lift and separate when they move.
The bastard drops into a crouch. My tail whips the air. Behind me, I hear Miari chirp. I want to tell her not to worry, that I will defend her honor, but I do not have coherency enough for that.
My shoulder meets his plated chest and we exchange blows. I cut into his breast plates. He retaliates by swiping his fist across my cheek bone. His knuckles carry the same spikes the backs of his arms do, but smaller. They cut when they make contact, in a plethora of grooves, but I ignore the pain and deliver a few retaliatory blows.
The fight only ends when Krisxox and four xcleranx fighters pry us apart. Seething, I am deposited onto my throne and I am only able to remain there when Miari breaks through the xcleranx holding me fixed and places her hands on my face. She pulls the anger from me as if by magic and I tumble, lost, into the cannons of her eyes.
Ripping out a growl, I yank my arm free of the one who pins it and hook it around Miari’s waist. I drag her onto my lap and wrap my arms around her and I bark at the xcleranx to step back when the male accidentally brushes her skin.
Miari whispers softly in my ear and rubs my face and back and chest with her soft hands until I calm enough to dismiss the xcleranx. They step back, but not away, creating a tunnel at the end of which stands the Niahhorru king, smug and gloating, even with streaks of black blood scoring his grey flesh.
Flecks of silver glint along his plates, though his spikes are a matte, dark grey bone. His charcoal tongue slithers between his jagged, dagger teeth and he jerks half a step forward, his gaze trained wickedly on my mate.
“She is beautiful. Kor would offer bounties beyond anything your simple Voraxian minds could fathom for a few of the women. We need females.” For a moment, his tone deepens and cracks just enough for me to hear the seeds of his desperation germinate and blossom.
The childless disease that plagues the Niahhorru is well known, as is the fact that they have breeding compatibility with few outside species. Very few species have breeding holes large enough to accommodate the Niahhorru male anatomy. Let alone two. Perfect for their shekurr.
This knowledge would increase the drive and desire of Rhorkanterannu and his people to acquire the human females. There is no question either of how he knows the things of which he speaks. Pe’ixal…
I slam my closed fist down onto the heavy arm of my werro throne. “This is a night of celebration and yet you dare to provoke me, insult my Rakukanna, and make trade demands of me. It is known that the Niahhorru lack morals and scruples, but intelligence was not something I understood to be on this list.
“Now you will leave before I am forced to escort you out myself and there will be no more talk of bartering with the human females on this lunar or any other. The humans are sentient beings and will be fledged Voraxian. We do not deal in slaves.”
Rhorkanterannu balks and slams his plated fist against his plated chest. The sound is like two rocks glancing off of one another. “You think you can stop me from seeking them out? I will have a human to breed even if I have to take the human moon by force.”
Rage. I am nothing but my ridges and the color that engulfs them and sings down the backs of my arms. “I never said it was a moon and I have never spoken of the human anatomies’, not least of all to your brood. You heard these things from the fallen Bo’Raku.
“In league with a traitor on my planet, and with your declarations, you are mere moments away from declaring war. This must be your wish, your aim here. Tell me now if you declare war on Voraxia and we will meet you in combat among the stars. You will not need to suffer the breeding disease any longer, for when we are finished, there will be nothing of Kor that remains.”
The Niahhorru King’s chest is full, but he exhibits a control that the Niahhorru are not known for and instead of attacking, takes a step back.
He bows with a curt, rigid nod of his square head. “And risk our precious trade negotiations? Never, Raku. I wish you and your Rakukanna nothing but mating bliss and many offspring. One only dreamt of by the Niahhorru of Kor.”
Ignoring my barb, he makes a pleasure expression, one revealing a mouth full of guile and fangs. “Unfortunately, we seem to have depleted our supply of Kintarr Crystals. We will need to refuel before departure and as you know, the refueling of Kintarr Crystals can take a very, very long time. Solars, even.”
I shift forward in my seat, fully intent on abandoning any modicum of decorum and finishing the fight we started, but Miari slips her hand around my waist and places the other over the center of my chest over one of my two hearts.
“Shh… it’s okay, Xoran,” she whispers directly in my ear.
Her plush lower lip brushes my earlobe and I shiver. My gaze, locked on Rhorkanterannu’s, does not miss how his pleasure expression falls. He stares at my Miari with hunger. I am driven by the urge to move, but grounded by my Rakukanna.
“It’s okay. He’s just talk. We’re safe. All of us. I’m safe. I’m with you and you’re not going to let him hurt me or any of us. I’ll help you.”
I shake my head, feeling flush with anger. I try to focus. “Ixria and her xub’Ixria will help you to expedite the process. You are dismissed and you will leave the festival grounds now. Krisxox will escort you out.”
Krisxox jerks forward, but hesitates. I am surprised until I see the direction of his gaze. It falls a little ways away to where the human female in his charge stands in her coverings. I wonder at her need to keep her body full concealed, but I am not given long to wonder when the King of Kor takes a long step towards her.
He snarls under his breath and the human female shifts closer to the Voraxian standing beside her — one of the xcleranx and a male I believe to be known as Tur'Roth. The male honors both himself and the human by placing his body in front of hers and assuming a fighting stance in front of the female. However, Rhorkanterannu does not advance farther.
Taken to Voraxia Page 18
