by Cynthia Sax
Residents rushed out of his way. Males cursed. Females screamed. His lips flattened. They often made that annoying sound when they encountered him.
Everyone was scared of him, saw him as a big hulking beast, dangerous and out of control.
He hunched protectively over his little female. Would she view him the same way? Would she shirk from him in horror, fear him, dread their connection?
The small creatures he tended didn’t view him as a monster. They accepted him, gave him unconditional love. Human females were more complex.
He wanted her to love him, to see past his size, his bald head, green skin, menacing features.
Balvan touched the groove around her right wrist. She’d been beaten, tortured, mistreated by other males. It might not be possible for her to care for a being such as himself, a warrior who had killed others, who enjoyed ending lifespans.
His heart squeezed. He was the wrong male for her.
She deserved a kind, peace-loving, non-lethal soul, an agri-lot tender or a garment fabricator or an expert at an academy, someone who would take her away from violence, never give her a reason to fear him. They’d enjoy a normal, uneventful lifespan, not live in a settlement filled with killers and other scum of the universe.
The thought of her with anyone else brought out the side of him he needed to suppress—the crushing skulls, ending lifespans part.
The bond between them was already overruling his logic. If she left him, it would cause him pain. But he had to ensure his little female was happy. That was his top priority, not his own selfish comfort, wants, needs.
The first step to making her happy was to heal her. He had to restore her to full health, to consciousness. Balvan would think about the rest of it later, preferably much later.
Unable to wait for the doors to the medic bay to open, he kicked them down. Pieces of metal skidded along the tiled floor. He ducked under the frame, gazed around him, looking for assistance.
Beings shrieked, his mere presence scaring the battle-hardened medics.
His lips twisted. That wasn’t a good start.
Chapter Three
A tongue rasped across Elyce’s shoulder, the gentle caress giving her no pain, only comfort. Before she could determine the source, the blackness swept her away, dragging her back into oblivion.
When she regained consciousness, voices murmured, the low growl by her left ear both scaring and thrilling her. The voice was male.
Fuck. He’d hit her. She braced her body, readying herself for a blow.
None came. She was sucked into the void once more.
She faded in and out of consciousness, the duration of awareness growing longer and longer. Her disorientation was frightening yet a comforting presence was always near her, guarding her, protecting her, keeping her safe.
She bubbled all over, but didn’t hurt anywhere, which meant she’d suffered a brain injury or she was dead. Pain had been her constant companion since she was abducted.
She returned to reality once more. Heated hardness pressed against her back. Unrelenting bands strapped around her waist. Hot breath wafted against her neck.
Not again. She tensed, waiting for the jab of a blade into her side or the rough twist of fingers around her sensitive nipples or the crack of the whip over her ass.
That didn’t happen.
Because she was dreaming.
The male behind her was too large to be human. His touch was too tender to be real. “Balvan.” The male her mind had constructed was with her.
His big body stiffened. “How do you know my name?”
Elyce yawned. She wanted to see her fantasy male but her eyelids were too heavy to lift and she was too tired to turn toward him. “The voice told me.”
That voice was silent. She must only have the energy for one imaginary being at the moment.
“The voice told you my name.”
Her giant green male’s endlessly deep tones appealed to her more than that of the other being, the arrogant one. Balvan’s voice coiled around her insides, warming her all over.
“That must have been Kralj speaking to you.” He relaxed once more against her. “What else did he tell you?”
She was certain the voice had told her more than her big green male’s name but searching her brain for that information was too great of a task. “Tired.” She sighed.
“Then sleep, little female.” Balvan nuzzled his cheek against hers.
She couldn’t remember the last time she was touched with affection, experienced contact without feeling pain. This must be a fantasy.
She’d wake up at any moment, be back in the nightmare she’d been enduring for…she couldn’t remember how long, and Balvan would be gone. She’d face that torture by herself.
Panic filled her. She didn’t want to be alone, didn’t have the willpower to continue, to deal with the pain again and again. “Stay.” She grasped Balvan’s massive arm, trying to hold onto him, desperate. She didn’t have the strength to keep her big male by her side.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He tightened his grip on her, the snugness reassuring her. “When you wake, I’ll be here.”
He spoke that like a vow and she wanted to believe him, but Marowit had promised things also, cruelly giving her hope. He had never kept his word.
Males, even dream males, couldn’t be trusted. A tear trickled down Elyce’s left cheek as the darkness claimed her once more.
* * *
When she woke, Elyce discovered Balvan was the exception to everything. He was with her, his arms remaining around her waist, his grip secure yet not hurting her.
It was because he was her dream male, she reminded herself. He wasn’t real, would only do what she wanted him to do.
This time, she would look at him, test how fucked-up her brain was. If she could see him, she was truly broken, the torture, the torment had shattered her mind.
Elyce doubted she’d mourn the loss of her sanity. She could happily stay in her self-created world, a place with no pain, only tenderness, only Balvan. No one and nothing else was needed.
She opened her eyes. Light pierced her eyeballs, stabbed into her brain.
“Too bright.” She lowered her eyelids once more.
“I’ll block the light.” Balvan turned her within the circle of his arms, until his chest brushed against her nose. “You can open your eyes now.”
She obeyed him, saw dimly lit pecs. He had rounded his shoulders, creating a valley of shadows, his fingers splaying over her bare back, his muscles surrounding her.
There was no way out. She inhaled sharply, fear gripping her. A male had captured her. She was at another being’s mercy.
Her chest grew tight. Her breathing became ragged. Terror clawed its way up her throat, a wild irrational thing. She shook, forcing herself not to fight; that would anger him, make his retaliation worse.
“Shhh…little female.” Large hands glided up and down her back. “Look at me.”
She tilted her head back, looking up, up, up at a primitive countenance, green skin. “Balvan.” Her breath whooshed out of her. She was being held by her dream warrior, not by Marowit or one of his males.
“Yes, it’s me, Balvan.” His smile was gentle. “You’re safe. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you.”
He was a figment of her imagination, wouldn’t wound her in any way. Elyce rested against him. Her breathing leveled. Her fear dissipated. Her eyes adjusted to the increased light.
Connection hummed between them, a link she’d never felt with another being. That didn’t surprise her. Her brain had crafted him. He was a part of her.
It was the accompanying arousal that shocked her. Her nipples grew taut. Her pussy became wet. She’d thought Marowit and his brutes had killed that side of her, had destroyed sex for her forever.
Balvan, her dream male, had resurrected her desire. And she stimulated him also. She felt that proof against her leg.
Elyce gazed downward, between them, caught a glimpse of an almost d
auntingly large cock, his lack of hair amplifying his size.
She swallowed. Hard. “You want me.”
His green eyes glowed with desire, confirming her statement.
Why hadn’t he taken her, used her while she slept? Other males would have done that. She would wake with one or two or more of them touching her, hurting her, uncaring of her wishes, her feelings.
But not Balvan.
Because he was her dream male. Her dream male would wait to take her, seek her permission.
She was in control.
Elyce’s fingers flattened against Balvan’s pecs. His muscles rippled under her palm. His chest pushed against her hands and drew back. Yet he made no other movement.
She hadn’t voluntarily touched a male’s body since she’d passed that darkened pathway a lifespan ago. All of the contact had been forced, unwanted.
She drifted her hands over him. He wasn’t real, but he felt that way. “You’re Balvan.” She reminded herself. “You won’t hurt me.”
She could do this.
“I’d never hurt you.” He frowned, his face darkening. “I’d cut off both of my arms before I harmed a hair on your head.”
That was something an imaginary male would say. She smiled, unable to remember the last time she was amused. “Can I touch you?”
His eyes flashed with need—bright, intense, overpowering.
Her fear returned. “Th-that’s all I want to do,” she hastily added, not knowing if she was capable of doing more.
“My body is yours to explore, little female.” Balvan rolled onto his back, lowered his arms to his sides.
The communication was clear. He wouldn’t touch her. She was in charge of the encounter.
Elyce started with his fingers, a safe part of him. They were thick, his nails blunt, clean. There weren’t any scars on his fingers, on his knuckles. She scanned his big form. He hadn’t a single scar that she could see.
She had numerous scars, on her back, on her chest, all over. Her fingers curled. She no longer had fingernails.
Her gaze drifted to his unrepentantly hard cock. Her lack of fingernails, her numerous scars, hadn’t dampened his attraction to her.
Because he was a figment of her imagination. She shook her head, feeling foolish. Of course he’d want her, and of course he’d be perfect. Hating her own scars, she wouldn’t give him any.
She traced his forearms, the swell of his massive biceps, followed his shoulders to his collarbone and his collarbone to the base of his neck.
His neck was as huge as the rest of him and was devoid of any collar. She touched her own neck, felt scars and skin.
In their dream, she didn’t wear a collar either. Her wrists and ankles were bare of restraints. She was free…and safe and happy.
Elyce guided her fingers along his jaw, his square chin. His eyelids partially lowered, his lips curling upward. She touched them too, navigating the dip under his flat nose. His cheeks were surprisingly soft.
She stopped at the letters and numbers inked below his right eye. “What does this stand for?”
That she had to ask that question was absurd. He was a product of her brain. She should know the answer.
“I’m a modified humanoid, a being genetically engineered to fight for the Humanoid Alliance.” Balvan’s face hardened. “I escaped them.”
“You hate the Humanoid Alliance.” She guessed his reaction.
He nodded.
“I hate them also.” Marowit and his males were aligned with the Humanoid Alliance. It was logical that she’d create a being who shared her hatred for them.
She smoothed Balvan’s bushy eyebrows and caressed his bald head, loving the shape of it, the way her palms glided friction-free over his skin.
“You’re a one-of-a-kind being.” Elyce had never seen anyone like him. She lowered his hands to his chest, grazed her fingertips between his pecs.
He sucked in his breath. “The Humanoid Alliance only created one of me.” Balvan watched her, his eyes the darkest green. “I was…hard to control.”
With his size, he would be challenging to restrain. Her gaze returned to his cock. “You are hard.”
She followed the defined vee below his abs, the indent pointing toward his shaft. There wasn’t a pinch of excess flesh on his huge form. He was all muscle.
Elyce ventured closer and closer to his base, moving cautiously, prepared to draw back if he reached for her.
Balvan’s fingers folded into giant fists but he didn’t move, didn’t try to force her to suck his cock, to give him the relief he so obviously needed.
“Can I touch you everywhere, even there?” She dipped her head toward his shaft. He wouldn’t touch her without her permission. She’d show him the same respect.
“You can touch me everywhere.” His voice was a deep rumble, his entire body vibrating.
Elyce extended the forefinger of her right hand and placed her fingertip on his tip, a light tap, a signal of intent. His cock bobbed, his reaction exciting her.
She wasn’t cruel. Even though he was a fantasy, wasn’t a real male, she would still bring him to completion. She’d never finish what she couldn’t start.
But she’d study him first, examine her big warrior, learn his body. She caressed his cock head, brushing her finger over him, back and forth, back and forth.
A bead of pre-cum formed on his slit. She swept across it. Her skin bubbled.
Elyce froze in place, harsh memories of the other males gripping her, how they’d force their way into her mouth, never allowing her to withdraw, their fingers twisting her hair, holding her in place, their taste lingering in her mouth.
“I-I…” Shit. She was wrong. Her body shook. She couldn’t bring him to completion, couldn’t—
“Look at me, little female,” Balvan commanded.
She met his gaze and almost crumpled when she saw the understanding in his eyes. “You’re Balvan. You won’t hurt me.” She repeated her earlier words.
“I’m Balvan. I won’t hurt you.” He confirmed that truth. “You can stop at any time. There will be no repercussions.”
She narrowed her eyes, finding that statement difficult to believe. No male, not even a dream male, would voluntarily halt a sexual tryst past a certain point. “If I stop, you’ll be angry.”
“I’ll be frustrated.” He admitted. “I might leave, find a private place, finish myself off, but I’ll return. I’ll always return to you.”
She didn’t like the thought of him finishing himself. Fuck, no. She skimmed her finger down his tip, traced his rim.
He sucked in his breath, didn’t otherwise move.
His cock was green, like the rest of him. None of the other males’ cocks had been that color.
Green males were safe. She could count on Balvan, and only Balvan, to keep his word, to treat her gently.
Elyce explored his shaft, following the veins there.
He was different; he was her fantasy male. She curled her fingers around him, savoring his massive girth. There was no other being like him. She could trust him, relax with him.
Elyce worked him up and down, up and down, her rhythm slow and steady.
Balvan clenched his jaw, his eyes blazing, his lust for her reassuring her.
She cupped his balls, rolling them with her fingers as she pumped his shaft harder, faster. The muscles in his thighs flexed. His toes curled.
Having power over such a huge, magnificent male fed Elyce’s confidence and turned her on. She straddled one of his legs, rubbed against him.
The rumbling in his chest intensified yet he didn’t move, his ass remaining fixed to the sleeping support.
As she ran one of her hands over his cock and played with his balls with the other, she rocked against him, the friction giving her… She tilted her head to the side. Pleasure. Yes, that was the feeling.
A male form was bringing her joy. After everything she’d been through, that was a wondrous, almost magical occurrence.
It gave her hope
that she might have a normal lifespan, a normal relationship, find love. She wanted that…with him.
Which was impossible. He wasn’t real.
She ground against Balvan, seeking more bliss. He hardened even more, all over. Heat and power and reassurance radiated from him.
He wouldn’t take more than she was willing to give. She’d be seen as a being, not merely as a body part to use.
He looked at her face, not her breasts. His giant fists remained by his sides.
He was a warrior. No one would believe him to be anything else, his fit physique honed, lethal, yet she was safe with him, free to indulge in her own passions, her own fulfillment.
Passion swirled around her, a dizzying array of sensations. She rode Balvan, branding his leg with her scent, stroking him with everything she had, the strain of holding off her release dimming her vision.
Her big male was close to fulfillment also. His balls hugged the base of his shaft. Tremors ran up and down his arms and legs.
She did that to him. Elyce’s spine straightened with pride. Her touch, freely given, had brought him to that point.
“Can’t hold on,” Balvan uttered through gritted teeth. “Let me come. Please, little female.”
He was asking her permission to come, was pleading for his satisfaction. Elyce shook, stimulated by that revelation, the last strands of her restraint snapping.
She curved her fingers around his balls. He made a hurting sound, deep in his throat. That was how far gone her dream male was.
“When I squeeze, you’ll come.” She told him.
“Can I thrust?” His lips flattened into a thin white line.
Giving him the ability to move scared her. But he wasn’t like the other males. She gazed at his green face, needing that visual reminder. He wouldn’t grab her, wouldn’t hurt her.
“You can thrust once.” She compromised.
“Yes.” He appeared satisfied with that answer.
She stroked his shaft once, twice, three times and folded the fingers of her other hand around his balls. He roared, thrusting his hips upward.
His thigh smacked against her clit, throwing her forward, and she screamed, joining him, bliss ripping through her. He caught her before she fell, holding her upward. Hot cum jetted from his tip, splashed over her stomach, under her breasts.
