by Dee Brice
“You think their husbands murdered them?”
Kel sighed. “I think they missed their homeworld so much, they died from its lack.”
“You miss skeetmosques?” Aren asked, his light tone an obvious attempt to make her laugh.
She did. Sobering, she said, “I miss my mother. Which, frankly, surprises me, given how she tries to run my life.”
“I think parents never stop that.”
“Has Storr contacted you here?”
Aren frowned as if he knew she hoped for a way to contact Basalia. “Tak the gods, he has not. He could, of course, send a messenger were there an emergency. Are you tired of my company, Flame?” He kissed her ear, nibbled the lobe.
“N-no.”
“Good.” He fumbled among the folds of cloth they sat upon and produced a book. “I promised I would read to you.” A wave of his hand and light from the realloppas brightened the entire cave.
“Where did the blanket come from? And the book?”
Ignoring her questions, he inched back and leaned against a rock that seemed to soften and offer comfort to his spine. Pressing her head to his shoulder, he opened the book.
The contents made her blush. Soon she lost herself in Aren’s seductive voice and arousing words. She shifted on his lap and felt his cock swell. His reaction gave her a sense of immense power and made her body heat with lust. She pushed aside the cloth around her shoulders. Straddling him, pressing her swollen breasts and aching nipples against his wide chest, she inhaled the scents of peat and flowers and flesh that made him Aren. She heard his breath hitch, his voice deepen and falter as he continued to read. Felt his cock pulse against her moist nether lips. Pushing back, she saw that his eyes were so black they almost frightened her. She could imagine him facing an armed foe with that fierce intensity. Having that focused on her face made her stomach whirl—fear or lust, she could not decide. As if she had wandered the Amazonian desert for days, delirious from thirst, she had a desperate need to taste him.
She licked his neck. Feeling his vein pulse, she lingered to nip it gently then soothed it with her tongue. He tasted a little salty but not unpleasantly so.
“Flame.” His soft voice hinted at lust under stressed restraint.
Ignoring him, she kissed and licked her way down his body, pausing only to long enough to sniff and lave his bellybutton. When she reached his cock and its nest of dark curls, she inhaled deeply. “You smell like lust.”
Cupping his balls, she licked him as if his cock were a long piece of hard candy. He groaned, thrusting his hips much the same way she pushed her pussy against his mouth when he ate her. Circling his cock with her fingers, stroking up and down, she lapped the dewdrop that seeped from its head.
“Flame,” he groaned. His fingers curled in her hair. Expecting him to pull her away, she bit him gently and swirled her tongue around and over his cockhead. He clutched her head and surged up and down in her mouth.
“You taste like lust.”
“In a minute I’ll taste like…” He gulped. “Like cum.”
Laughing, she swallowed him and sucked hard.
“By all the gods! Guanshit!”
“Gimme. I want to taste you.” Even to her, her voice sounded sultry.
Obliging her, he thrust to completion.
Sliding up his body, she kissed him, fulfilling his promise that he would taste himself on her lips and tongue. Would smell himself on her cheeks and chin.
“How do you taste?” she asked him.
“Like krilmtubte.” She frowned her puzzlement and he clarified. “A little sweet, a little sour and slightly salty.”
“More than slightly salty,” she said wryly, then licked her lips.
“You’re so romantic,” he complained good-naturedly.
“This cave is a romantic spot. Have…have you brought many women here?”
“None save you.”
Sitting up, she studied his eyes for a long moment. “I think I believe you.” Sighing, she nestled against him, content to hear his heartbeat drum in her ear. Content to feel his hands soothing up and down her spine, lingering on her buttocks before gliding to her face to cup her cheek. She nuzzled his palm. His tenderness made her wish they could stay like this forever.
“I suppose… Would seeing our hospitals ease your mind about birthing?”
“Probably,” she admitted. “Change it? Probably not. I…I don’t think I’d be a good mother.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t believe in maternal instincts. I think mothers, like warriors, must be trained. On Amazonia, that training occurs when a baby is born. Some warriors are more adept at swaddling, feeding and caring for their infants. Others act as though they have no further obligation to the child beyond giving her life. I’m afraid I’d be that kind of mother. More concerned about keeping Amazonia safe than my child’s happiness.”
“The two duties are not mutually exclusive, Kel.” When she scowled, he continued. “What kind of mother was Basalia?”
Kel had never thought about her mother as a mother. Basalia was simply there, wanted or needed or not. “She…she was sometimes very loving. At other times impatient, especially when I misbehaved.”
Aren’s laugh rumbled against Kel’s cheek. “That’s typical, Kel. I remember my mother making me sit in a corner with nothing to look at except a blank wall. Yet when she put me to bed, she sang to me or read me stories. I always promised her I’d be a better boy the next day. She’d laugh, as if she knew our definitions of better were leagues apart.”
“And your father? How did he treat you?”
“Like a little man. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting at his feet during council sessions. At first, when I was very young, only for an hour. As I aged, the time I spent at his side lengthened.”
“A king in training.”
“Yes.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the crashing waterfall a soothing background sound, much like the musicians playing from a distance the other night. Aren toyed with the hair around her ear. She shivered.
“You’re cold,” he said, drawing the cloth over them.
Pushing away from him, she also shoved off the cloth. “No! I…I don’t want that fabric near me.”
“It was a gift, Kel. From my friends. From Drew.” He sounded hurt, as if he’d woven the blanket himself.
“I know that!” she snapped. She had enough problems dealing with her own up-and-down emotions without worrying about his feelings.
“Why don’t you like it?”
“I told you. It’s bespelled.”
“How?” Skepticism laced his voice.
He lived on a world where people moved things without touching them and he was asking her? “I don’t know how. It…it makes me feel strange. It makes me dream.”
“Of what?”
She studied her hands, disgusted with their shaking.
“Of me? Do you dream of me, Kel?” He tipped her chin as if willing her to look at him.
“Not you…exactly.” Expecting him to prod her for a more complete answer, his silence made her open her eyes.
“I also dreamed last night,” he said at last. “I dreamed I was on your homeworld, surrounded by hundreds of women with your face. But I knew none of them was you. I felt abandoned.”
Kel gasped, feeling as if he punched her belly while she stood before him defenseless. “I stood in Storr’s throne room, surrounded by all the men on Ondrican.” She licked her dry lips. “They stroked their cocks and moved closer and closer. They all looked like you but I knew.”
“Did you also feel abandoned?”
She could only nod.
He drew her down and resumed stroking her. At last he said, “I think there are two possible interpretations to our dreams. First, that we secretly desire multiple partners. Second…”
She raised her head and glared. “What?”
“That we only want each other.”
Aren saw her eyes whirl wit
h ever-changing colors. He sensed she had withheld a crucial detail, but doubted she would tell him what. Instead of pressing her, he brought her head to his shoulder and drew the cloth over them. She jerked as if he’d seared her with a hot iron.
“It is only to see what happens when we sleep together under this blanket. I’ll keep you safe, Kel. I promise.”
“I can’t sleep now. I’m too tense, especially with this cloth over me.”
“Trust me, Kel.” Brushing his thumb across her brow, he watched her eyes drift closed. A few minutes later, her breathing told him she slept, deeply and thus far dreamlessly.
Of their own accord, his arms tightened around her. Surprising him, she snuggled even closer, as if she knew what was about to happen and welcomed the dream he hoped they would share. With a deep breath, he shut his eyes and slid into her mind.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Luna, ripe and fecund, was surrounded by black velvet skies festooned with diamond stars. Her silvery light fell like cool sunlight on the verdant fields below. Kel’s hair tickled Aren’s chest as the gentle breeze feathered it off her face. His own hair—much longer from the passing of several months—streamed behind him as they galloped along, his horse striding with carefree grace. Penis plants sprang up along their path, each pod open and gleaming white as they revealed their unripe fruit.
Such is the magic of dreams, he thought.
Kel, wearing only scraps of cloth around her breasts and lower body, laughed joyously. Aren felt as if he could see the musical notes her happiness sounded. His own laughter melded with hers, seeming to create a symphony in the sky above and all around them.
Wanting to feel her laughter, he slid his hands around her then folded them over her flat, firm belly. She giggled, filling his soul with a gladness he’d never known before.
As they neared the lake, the horse’s pace slowed. Aren, Kel in his arms, slid off his mount’s bare back.
“I can walk,” Kel said, wreathing her arms around his neck.
“I know, but I like having you in my arms.”
He wished for a blanket as soft as eiderdown. One appeared and spread itself over the soft grass beneath his bare feet.
“How—?”
“It is a dream, Kel. Anything is possible.”
“You could have wished for a bed.” Her soft smile contradicted her mild complaint.
“Would you prefer a bed?”
“Would you?”
“Since I summoned a blanket, I suppose a blanket—with you on it—is what I prefer.”
She met his eyes, hers swirling with so many colors he could but hope her mood, her desires, matched his own.
“It’s a dream, Aren. Your dream.”
“Our dream,” he corrected, willing away the edges of unease he felt in her. In himself. He knelt, laid her on the blanket and brushed his thumb across her brow. Her frown vanishing, she smiled up at him.
“I have…enjoyed these months with you, Aren,” she murmured, as if months had passed in this dream reality.
He silenced her with one finger on her lips. She parted them. Licked his fingertip. Bit it gently. Against her body, his shaft pulsed. He saw her nipples rise to poke the sheer fabric she’d tied around them. Feathering his hand down her slender neck, he felt her swallow. Heard her draw a shallow breath then seem not to breathe at all.
Finding the knot under her bound breasts, he tugged on it. His tug unraveled it and the gossamer fabric fell away, exposing her to him. To his eyes. To his hands. To his mouth.
At his first lap, her nipple pearled. Her back arched and she pressed her breast more firmly to his lips.
“I…enjoy,” he parroted, “how you respond to me, Flame.”
Snaking her hand between their bodies, she curled her fingers around his shaft. “As I revel in your response to me.”
His breath hissed from between his clenched teeth.
“Tie her,” he commanded. The material that had bound her breasts wound around her wrists and the stakes that materialized at her side and slightly above her head. The fabric she had tied between her legs and around her buttocks now secured her ankles.
“Pillows.” Two floated over her torso. “Head and hips,” he told them. They obeyed, settling beneath her as he had commanded.
Aren surveyed his handiwork while Kel tested her bindings.
“One more, a little flatter, beneath her wing bones.” He studied her again, smiling down before soothing away her frown with a silent command. “Perfect,” he said at last. “You will see everything I do to your breasts and cunt.”
Time—real time in their real world—seemed like sand flowing through his cupped palms. He couldn’t stop it. He needed her to believe their dream could and would come true. That they could build a life together—a life filled with love, making love and safely having children. Along the way they’d argue and cry but they’d make up, make love and laugh too.
Her desire seemed his only weapon. At least until he convinced her that relinquishing control didn’t mean she’d failed in any aspect of her life—warrior, mother, wife.
Twisting in a futile attempt to free herself, Kel said, “I’ve only to close my eyes to shut you out.”
He chuckled. “You won’t want to shut me out.” Stretching along her side, he ran his fingers through her hair and arranged the thick strands to suit his fancy.
“One day I’ll paint you like this. Your hair in disarray. Your body—arms and legs spread wide in welcome.” He stroked her lips with his fingertip. “A different expression on your face, I think. One more wild with need.”
“Nev—”
His lips smothered her disavowal of what he wanted her to feel. She fought him exactly as he knew she would. Her lips pursed into a line of denial. He teased them with his tongue until they softened. Caressed the corners until she laughed. Plunged his tongue into her mouth to mate with hers. And all the while he kneaded her breasts, rolled and pinched her sensitive nipples until her hips thrust against his body. He felt her juices seep over his skin and swallowed her mews of pleasure. Lifting his head, he saw myriad emotions in the swirling colors of her eyes. Shame. Anger. Desire.
“I’ll take you higher, Flame,” he vowed, his voice raspy with tightly reined lust.
Her eyes swirled stormy gray and black but she said nothing.
“Your nipples are so sensitive you came for me,” he murmured against one pearled peak. “You’ll come even harder when I finger-fuck your juicy cunt while I suckle your nipples.”
With his hand resting on her belly, he felt a sigh shudder through her body. Laving her nipple, he cupped her mons. Her hips jerked up and down and side to side as if she sought to escape his touch. Combing his fingers through her damp curls, he sought and found her rigid clit. She moaned softly, spreading her thighs as wide as she could with her ankles bound. He sucked her nipple into his mouth. Laved it with his tongue as he thumbed her clit and eased two fingers into her moist, hot cunt. Her juices gushed and she cried out, thrusting her hips.
He stilled his hand and raised his head to look at her. She bit her lips as if holding back a string of frustrated curses. Her eyes were solid black—anger and need overriding all other emotions in their still depths.
“When I get my hands on you…”
He found the soft spot inside her. Pressed it. Caressed it until she pumped against his hand, her soft cries growing louder. Her cunt spasmed around his fingers and she screamed his name.
Her climax had barely subsided when he settled between her legs and lapped her juices from her quivering core.
“Ar-Aren,” she protested weakly in a breathless voice.
“I promised you higher. Now I’ll take you even higher still when I feast on you and drink your nectar.” His hands closed over her breasts. His fingers kneaded her firm flesh, teased her nipples with tormenting light strokes that match the patterns his tongue created along her swollen folds and moist valley.
Groaning, feeling as though she were drowning in lust, Kel
fought her own responses to Aren’s tender onslaught. His tongue sliding over her clit, sending arrows of pleasure shooting through every nerve ending, popped her eyes open.
As if sensing her gaze, he looked up. She couldn’t see his smile but could feel his lips curve against her labia. A blush flashed from her toes to her scalp. And yet…she could not stop staring at him. Stop feeling as if his dark hair were cool silk brushing her inner thighs. Stop herself from inhaling the scent of her desire mixed with his. Stop hearing her sighs and his groans that sounded like a starving man gorging at Storr’s ample table. Stop the memory of tasting her cum on his tongue and lips. His cum flowing over her own tongue and down her throat.
His tongue swirled around her clit and she surrendered to pleasure. She forgot to fight the delicious tightening in her pussy as she rushed toward fulfillment.
He stopped. She groaned and opened her eyes to glare at him. But he was staring at her pussy as if it held all the secrets of all the galaxies. She tried to close her legs but his position between them and his frown kept her still.
“Beautiful, Flame. Your cunt is so pink and—” Stroking her curls while thumbing her clit, he eased two fingers inside. “So wet, yet tight.”
Embarrassment fled as he looked up at her, his eyes filled with so many emotions beyond lust that she couldn’t breathe. And yet—sweet gods!—she felt as though she drew her first truly free breath since arriving on Ondrican. And all because he looked at her as if he cherished her. As if what they were doing meant more to him than slaking his lust. And then he looked down again and kissed her clit, a whisper of his warm breath on her sensitive flesh. Peace stole over her as if time itself had slowed. She needn’t rush to bliss. It waited for her at the end of a long, slow climb to the top of the highest mountain surrounding his peaceful valley.
Her eyes fluttered closed. A deep sigh of pleasure expelled the last bit of tension as Aren kissed her clit again then flexed his fingers on that soft flesh that brought her such quiet bliss she floated on a sweet cloud, feeling so complete she couldn’t move.
