Tattooed Tryst

by Cynthia Sax

  “Lori?” Trake asked her permission, his voice low with desire.

  She smiled, touched by his consideration, and she caressed his scarred cheek with her fingertips. “I’m ready.”

  Murmuring words in a language she didn’t understand, Trake moved, rocking into her shallowly, his cock head sliding along her pussy walls. She dropped her hands to his shoulders and held on, his muscle contracting and releasing under her fingertips, his strength barely contained.

  As Trake found his rhythm, driving into her deeper and harder, she rose up, meeting him halfway. The vibrations over his tattoo intensified, pounding to the beat of her heart. She panted, needing more, more Trake, more heat, more connection, passion unfurling inside of her.

  Her breasts slapped against his chest, the sharp sting sending jagged shards of ecstasy from her nipples to her pussy. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and pressed her heels against his ass, the scent of sex and primitive male enveloping her.

  Trake grunted, laboring overtop of her, a slippery sheen of perspiration covering his tanned skin. His balls swung against her ass, his thrusts becoming wild and feral, his civilized veneer abandoned. He was all alien warrior, fierce and strong and hers, and she called his name, relishing his lack of control, her desire as crazed as his.

  Lori’s body shook. Her breasts ached. Her pussy throbbed. She balanced on the razor-sharp edge of fulfillment, determined to wait for him, the only male she’d truly loved, the only male she would ever love.

  “Trake,” she pleaded, meeting his savage gaze, his eyes filled with flame.

  “One.” He pushed her face into his chest as he rode her hard, pounding his cock into her pussy.

  Frantic with unreleased desire and abandoning all of her fear, Lori fixed her lips around the red sun tattooed on his skin, and she sucked, pulling the sweet flesh into her mouth.

  “One!” Trake threw back his head and roared, the sound rattling the windows, veins lifting on his neck. Hot cum bathed Lori’s tender pussy. Blazing heat filled her mouth and surged down her throat. Lights blinded her.

  The heat reached her stomach and Lori exploded, coming so hard, she convulsed against Trake, the waves of rapture jolting her body. Streams of fiery red and electric blue twisted around her, swathing her in warmth and love, holding her fragmenting form together.

  Agony, similar to dozens of sizzling hot needles, scratched across Lori’s chest, red- and-blue ink lifting the skin over her heart. The thread-thin lines spread and connected, revealing a tattoo identical to Trake’s design, the colors vivid and alive, physical proof of the spiritual bond connecting them.

  Her alien warrior released one more mighty roar and collapsed, slumping on top of her. Lori closed her eyes, welcoming his weight, the pounding of his heart, and the solidity of his muscles.

  Bewildering images flashed across her eyelids in a dizzying barrage of color and emotion.

  In a dark, dirty alleyway, a cornered man morphed into a creature with a bald head, round eyes and tentacles. Green light blasted from one of its gun and pain seared across her cheek. She returned fire, anger and determination steadying her hand. The creature jerked twice and faded from view.

  She gazed out a porthole, her hope mixing with anticipation. Stars whizzed past, blurring together as a computerized voice relentlessly recited protocol, the rules reassuring her. The air in the room was cool, too cool. Lori looked down at her hand, her fingers thick, her knuckles manly. Goose bumps lifted on skin she felt uncomfortable in.

  A giant furry beast hugged Lori close, love radiating from her soft form. The animal cooed a comforting lullaby using words she shouldn’t understand yet did. A pink sky stretched above her. Home. A sense of rightness, of belonging filled her.

  Disoriented, Lori opened her eyes and met Trake’s gaze, a solitary blue flame alleviating the blackness of his irises. “Are those your memories?”

  “Yes.” He winced and his mouth flattened. “You can learn to suppress them as you would suppress your own memories.”

  Lori smiled and touched his grim lips with her fingertips, honored by his gift. “Why would I want to suppress any of your past? It’s part of you, part of the man I love.”

  Choose me. Trake gazed down at the female he couldn’t live without, their souls fused together and their bodies joined. A calmness had replaced the pain in his chest. “You are Orogone now with an Orogone’s long lifespan.”

  She frowned, her bottom lip curling, her eyebrows lowering. “How long is long?”

  “Long.” He brushed his mouth against hers, unable to resist tasting her. “Many centuries.”

  “Centuries.” Lori’s eyes widened. “Oh shit. Are you saying I’m immortal?”

  “Not immortal.” Trake shook his head. “If you step in front of a moving bus, you’ll die.” And I’ll die with you. “So be careful.” He tapped the tip of her nose.

  She blinked. “I’ll try. Hmmm…” She shifted under him.

  He reluctantly left the warmth of her body and rolled, taking her with him. The spilled sand on the duvet ground into his skin. “The sand hurt you.” He slid his fingertips up her back and dusted the particles off her skin, angered that she had felt pain during their glorious joining. “I didn’t know.”

  “Yes.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “We won’t do that again.”

  Won’t we? Is this the end? Despair crushed Trake’s contentment, a bleakness weighing heavily upon his souls.

  Lori’s smile faded. “You’re sad, aren’t you?” She met his gaze. “I can feel it.” She placed his hand over her heart, resting his fingertips on her tattoo. “Here.”

  He nodded. “You hold my innermost soul, where emotions are stored. You can block them as you can block my memories.”

  Lori put her index finger over his lips, stopping his words. “Again, why would I want to?” Her lips curled into a devilish grin. “So I feel what you feel, huh?” She wrapped her slender fingers around his hardening cock and pumped him, her pressure exactly right. “Oh baby, do I ever.” She arched into him. “That feels good.”

  “Too good,” Trake muttered through clenched teeth, on the verge of coming again.

  “What about this?” Lori pinched one of her pink nipples with her free hand, whitening the sensitive tip. A delightful flush of arousal rose up her pale neck. “Can you feel that?”

  “Can’t.” He forced himself to remain still as her hand slid back and forth, back and forth, over his shaft. Fuck, she’s killing me. “One way.”

  “Too bad.” Her grin widened, the dimple deepening in her cheek. “For you.” She released him and an endearingly girlish giggle bubbled out of her mouth. A corresponding mirth frothed to life inside Trake, and he chuckled, the release feeling natural and right.

  His laughter fed her giggles and her giggles spurred on his laughter, until they rolled on the duvet, sand entering crevices and clinging to their hair, their limbs entwining. Trake’s souls, shared and private, floated, light with joy and love, reaching a state unachievable on his own.

  He held her as she quieted, her body sprawled on top of his, her ass cheeks cushioning his hard cock, her big breasts filling his palms. Of all of the forms he’d seen on females as varied as the planets they lived upon, none were as wondrous as hers. Lori had no sharp angles, no rigidity, yet she had a strength a warrior could lean upon.

  She played with his fingers, rubbing soothing circles into his scarred knuckles, and he watched expressions flit across her beautiful face, her fleeting thoughts easy to read, her sadness cutting him deeper than any weapon could.

  Trake tapped her nose again and she forced a smile. “So with this soul sharing, I received an almost endless life, all of your memories, and a snazzy new tattoo.” She peered up at him. “What did you get?”

  Trake met and held her gaze. “This moment with you.”

  “Oh.” Her eyelashes fluttered, partially concealing the sheen covering her blue eyes. “Then we’d better make this moment count.” She sat up, straddl
ing his waist, and she leaned over to skim her lips over his. Sand sprinkled upon him, her curls tickled his neck, and her musk enveloped him. “I wouldn’t want you to regret this.”

  “I’ll never regret this.” Even if she chooses Earth. Trake twirled her hair around his index finger. “Some Orogones never find their One. They never experience this joy, this rightness. I’ll always be one of the lucky warriors, Lori, no matter what happens.”

  Lori turned her head and stared to the right. He followed her line of sight and saw nothing of interest. A collection of seashells decorated the blue plaster. A lifebuoy leaned against the wall. A wrinkle created a peak in the beige carpet.

  “Hold me, Trake.” She buried her face in his chest, her cheeks wet. “Don’t ever let me go.”

  If only never letting her go was an option… Trake clasped her body to his and rested his chin on the top of her head, his happiness cradled in Lori’s soft hands.

  * * * * *

  Raff was waiting for Trake as he exited the house. His friend leaned casually against his red sports car, his jacket pushed behind his holster, the morning sun gleaming off the gun’s metallic handle. He sucked on a lollipop, his eyes half-closed as though cherishing the sweetness.

  Lori inhaled sharply, her fear arousing Trake’s protective instincts. Her hands trembled on his back, the contact felt through the black leather. He reached behind him, caught her wrist, slid his palm against hers and squeezed her fingers reassuringly.

  “You still set on doing this, Commander?” Raff glanced between the two of them, his fingertips tapping his gun nervously.

  There’s always choice. Lori’s words echoed in his mind. “Yes, it’s the best solution.”

  “For everyone except you,” the younger warrior muttered. “Self-sacrificing bastard.” He drew his gun, the weapon impeccably clean.

  “It won’t hurt?” Lori asked for the eighth time this morning, scanning Trake’s face…for what, he didn’t know. He maintained his blank expression, sucked his apprehension deep within his body, and focused on warm, comforting thoughts, managing the emotions she could now detect.

  “Nah, it doesn’t hurt.” Raff waved his gun. “Much.”

  Lori’s eyes widened. “What do you mean…much?” She turned to Trake and rammed her small fists on her hips. “You said it didn’t hurt at all,” the woman he loved accused.

  Trake glared at Raff. “It feels like being pushed.”

  “By a transport truck driving double the speed limit,” his friend added in a stage whisper.

  Lori paled and Trake gritted his teeth. “I’ve been transferred seven times. Orogones do this all the time.” He leveled a hard look on Raff, willing him not to say anything. The warrior feigned interest in the trigger of his gun. “Those memories are here.” Trake placed his hand on her heart. “And when I transfer, you’ll know I’m safe.”

  She covered his hand with hers, holding him to her. “Will I?”

  “Yes.” Trake brushed her lips one last time and stepped away, studying her. “You feel what I feel, remember?” She was so damn beautiful. “Be strong for me, Lori. Be happy.”

  She sat down on the front steps, her ass thudding against the worn wood. “I’ll try.” Lori gazed up at him with dazed eyes. “God, Trake, it’ll be hard but I’ll try.”

  It’ll be fuckin’ hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done. Trake straightened his shoulders and turned to Raff. “Give her three days before making her choose, Warrior.” Three days and she’ll forget me. Pain he couldn’t suppress blazed across his chest, Lori’s gasp adding to his agony.

  “Three days.” Raff bobbed his blond head. “Got it.”

  Trake took a deep breath and expelled the air slowly. “I’m ready. Do this. Quickly.” Before I lose my nerve, my pride, and my sense of self.

  Raff slid the lever on the gun. The barrel glowed blue. “It’s been an honor to serve with you, Commander.” All humor was wiped from his friend’s face. “Transfer well.”

  A wave of energy hit him, crushing his chest, bending his ribs and pushing his soul from his human frame. Trake met Lori’s gaze, holding on to Earth with all of his strength. The current was too powerful and he was too weak. She reached her hand out to him. He reached out to her.

  And then he was gone, sucked into the darkness, his soul hurtling through time and space. He bellowed with outrage and grief and loss, roaring into the black void, separated from his innermost soul, his One, his love.

  Chapter Six

  The bells over the diner door tinkled, and Lori glanced up, hope unfurling in her heart. It wasn’t him. Her intense joy vanished, leaving a hole soul-deep and filled with loneliness, her emotions amplified by the alien presence in her chest.

  His presence. She struggled to manage the surges of energy and feelings within her yet she would never suppress that connection to Trake. It was all she had left of him.

  Lori placed a mug of coffee and a platter of bacon, eggs and toast on her red plastic tray, her movements wooden. It had been two days since he had gone and instead of her pain easing, the agony had grown, fed by the despair radiating from Trake’s soul.

  Lori weaved between the tables and chairs, a forced smile on her face. Customers called out to her, teasing her as though nothing had changed, as though her world hadn’t collapsed. She responded out of habit, her replies the same replies she’d given a week ago, a year ago, before Trake, before finding love. She set the mug and platter in front of Big Rig Gerry.

  “’Bout time,” the man grumbled, his flannel-covered shoulders hunched over the table for one, a butter knife in one of his hands and a fork in the other. “Focus on the work, girl and you’ll survive.”

  He knows. Lori stared at the old trucker. “Do you remember Trake?” she asked, eager to find someone, anyone who remembered him.

  “Nah.” Big Rig Gerry scowled, his dirty blue cap jammed low on his brow. “Remembering my Mary, God rest her soul, is my job. Your job is to remember your Trake.” He stacked an egg onto the toast. “And deliver our damn eggs. They ain’t gonna deliver themselves.”

  The bells rang again, and Lori caught her breath. Kane stood on the threshold, glaring at the room, his tanned profile, black hair, and grim set of his mouth achingly similar to Trake’s. He swaggered toward the corner booth, his walk as arrogant as her military commander’s.

  He’ll remember Trake.

  “Shirley, I’m taking a break,” she called out to the older waitress. Shirley bobbed her head in acknowledgment. Lori hustled past the counter, picked up a piece of sugar cream pie, poured coffee into a mug and followed Kane to the booth.

  “Brought you some pie.” She sat across from the man, her ass squeaking on the red vinyl.

  “It’s a bit early for pie.” Kane removed his sunglasses. Dark circles edged his eyes. “But it’s appreciated. Where’s your bad-ass boyfriend? I need to ask him some questions.”

  He does remember Trake. Lori leaned forward. “Trake’s gone home.”

  “Hmmm…” Kane scraped at the pie with his fork. “When will he be back?” He licked the filling off the tines.

  “He won’t be back.”

  Kane’s gaze met hers. Anger churned in his brown eyes. “That sounds familiar. Let me guess. You can’t contact him?” Lori nodded and he jutted his chin. “Where’s my grandfather, Lori?”

  “He’s fine.” She patted Kane’s hand, trying to comfort him, unable to tell him more, unwilling to put Trake in possible danger.

  “Cut the bullshit,” Kane snapped, gripping her wrist hard. “I know about Orogone.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “How?” Her fingers trembled.

  He released her. “After that blond guy mentioned the word, I asked some of my Army buddies. They relayed rumors of space travel experiments, missing volunteers, and alien species. My—”

  “Where?” Lori interrupted, excitement sharpening her voice. We’ve never successfully transferred a human soul. “Where are these experiments being held?”

 
“The old underground bunkers.” Kane frowned. “Your Trake didn’t mention them to you?”

  Trake didn’t want me to risk my life. Lori watched Big Rig Gerry eat his eggs and toast, his shoulders slumped with grief. But without my alien, life is meaningless.

  “Lori?” Kane prompted.

  “Your grandfather isn’t involved in the experiments.” She avoided answering his question, a plan formulating in her mind. “He’d want you to live your life, fall in love, be happy.”

  Kane’s forehead furrowed. “Grandfather was an Army man. The army is heading up the experiments.”

  “Your grandfather was an Army man.” She pounced on that sentence. “Leave this alone, Kane. He’s fine. You’re fine. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No.” He folded his arms, his biceps bulging. “It isn’t.”

  “You two must be related,” Lori murmured, rolling her eyes. “Don’t do anything for a week.” Kane opened his mouth and she rushed to fill the silence. “For me? Please? It won’t make a difference in your search but it will to mine. I love Trake. He’s a good man and—”

  “Okay. Okay.” Kane held up his hand. “I’ve seen how you two look at each other.” His top lip curled. “I’ll wait a week.” Lori breathed a sigh of relief. “If you tell me how your Trake is related to my grandfather.”

  Trake didn’t want him to know, for some reason. Lori nibbled on her bottom lip. But Kane deserves answers. “They’re twin brothers.”

  Kane’s dark eyebrows shot upward. “Twin brothers.” He scowled, his face darkening. “That isn’t possible.”

  Lori stood and smoothed down her waitress uniform. “It isn’t humanly possible.” She met his gaze squarely, her chin tilted upward. “A week, Kane. I’m counting on you.”

  She walked away, her steps light with optimism. The hell with passively waiting for happiness and love. Trake is worth fighting for.

  * * * * *

  Hollow. I’m so hollow. Trake stood on the beach, his legs braced apart, his shoes sinking into the white sand. Is this emotional emptiness comparable to death? The waves rolled onto the shore, the water as blue as Lori’s eyes.