The summer months were on their way. The heat near the apex of the sun's travels, that is, around the fifteenth hour of the day, noon, was getting more and more unbearable as each one passed. In 53 more days, the month of Baa'ai would arrive, drying up rivers by its scorching heat, leaving the land parched.
Rollond lay awake that night. A spacious bed was given him, but as he stared at the ceiling the only thoughts that floated through his mind were ones of filling it. As if something was left over from the havoc of his adolescent hormones growing up, the same ones that drove him to get marked by the kyusoa in the hope that he'd be bedded by a tyiha soon after. Like something ticking away, becoming more and more intense, with longings as he began to feel hollow.
This emptiness triggered his guard, and like a turtle receding into its shell, he surrounded himself with the formless dark of his thoughts. Yet he was never alone. As he receded from the world around him, he gained a heightened awareness of his brother's presence. Gradually the plush sensation of his open night robe gave way to the crisp, cool flow of pond water.
He went deeper into his brother's experience, and as he did, he became a disembodied spectator:
There are only the three of us in the water. My brother laughs, and the tyiha with him clasps her hand over her mouth to hide her smile. She also laughs. Then he excuses himself from her presence and goes to a quiet place in the garden.
'I kept wondering when you would pop in on me.' He speaks to me with expectation, as though I've managed to do something wrong, to upset him.
I shrug. 'All the times you told me "I'll be okay, I can hold my own," I figured I'd take a hint.'
'That doesn't dismiss you from ever seeing me.'
'Please, not tonight.' The moment I say it, his ears perk.
'Something is wrong?' He picks up on my agitation right away. Outside of this immaterial space we share, I'm an expert at masking how I feel. Not even he can tell what I'm up to. But here, it's like an arbitrary extrasensory thing, like hearing colors and smelling words.
In fact, before I bother to negate his suspicions, he comes over, lays the representation of his consciousness beside mine, and starts at me with:
'You're in want of a mate.'
I don't even… 'What in all dusteichnwyg am I supposed to say to that?'
'Nothing,' he says.
'Good, because I —'
'It is not a saying-matter, Rollond. Your heart is empty and your body is full, you need to accept that.'
'And what, go prowling for a female to put my —'
'If that's what that means to you… Honestly, I had you figured for an uunan who needed more than a cock-warmer.'
'Ashenzsi…' I can't find the right words to suit my thoughts. I don't want to admit that he's right, but he's right.
'Listen, come down to the Tenchmok gardens tomorrow. There's someone I want you to meet. I promise, I promise, I promise I'll stay out of your way. Now get some rest.'
Luorvas, the 2nd day in the moth of Yiluzsi.
The gardens of the Tenchmok were vast. The gardens had ponds and streams. Controlled cascades lined its walls, and bluish, velvety vines crept up between the water. It was made of llydki, a glossy stone that had glowing splotches that moved like the molten goop inside a lava lamp. Were it not for the fact that it was part of the temple, the Tenchmok's gardens were breathtaking.
'So this is where you stay,' Rollond said to Ashenzsi. He stopped at the edge of the garden entrance from the Estate. There were steps descending down to the path hewn into the grass, a polished sandstone road.
Finally his brother came to him and motioned for him to follow. 'Tsche. I'd almost call it home.'
He followed Ashenzsi down the branching paths, to a place that was quiet. 'Does no one else live here?'
'They are all females, except for me. Good-for-nothing ones, I'll add.'
'Then why should I meet this one?' Rollond asked.
Ashenzsi glanced him over, then grinned.
He narrowed his eyes. 'What did you tell her?'
'Nothing. I swear it on my Rou'u.' At the end of the road, in the quiet place, was a thing that was once a gazebo. Now, it was overtaken by vines, and certain ones were snipped to make like an entrance curtain. Ashenzsi stopped near it and pointed. 'She is waiting in there.'
Rollond stepped up to the vine-overwhelmed structure. The instant he brushed his fingers over the vines and they swayed apart, his hearts stopped.
Never in his life did he anticipate a creature as delicately ornate as Sanci. Her arms were adorned with braided feather fans, treaphs, and she lifted them like wings as she undulated, slow and controlled. With finesse she caught Rollond's sight, and the black of liner drew him right into her glossy nacre eyes.
"Tsche au?" She stopped dancing. "Who are you?"
A lump clogged his throat. He nearly forgot his name. "Rollond," he said, forcing his tone to stay even.
"Rollond," she rolled his name off her tongue.
His whole body went tense. He liked his name off her lips, as if that's where it belonged, in the sultry sound of her voice. "And you are?"
"Am Sanci," she said. She blushed and hid the softness of her smile behind her shoulder.
"I… I'm sorry to interrupt your dance," he said, softly. "My brother wanted me to meet you."
"Tsche, you must be the uunan Ashenzsi spoke of. You work here, too?"
"They took me on recently. I'll admit, it's not easy running the twenty-eighth enclave."
She studied him. "You must be tough," she said, motioning for him to come in.
"You think so?" He stepped in and sat down on the mossy floorboards.
"I know so." She sat beside him. "Let me see you," she said, reaching for his hand.
He let her take him. She pinched the tip of his middle finger and gradually drew his glove off. His hands were paler than the rest of him, smooth and soft. "You are like this," she said as she caressed his hand. "Outside you present a hard face, because inside you are tender and delicate. You don't want anyone to know your weaknesses, your fears, to know that you have 'switches' like everyone around you does."
He was astonished. Was it that obvious? He was a master of putting on a face, even with the realization that he liked what she was doing. Though she didn't do much, she was merely tracing her fingers along his skin.
Inside, he struggled to get a grip on his slippery, fleeting composure. She was exquisite, and more than anything he wanted to strip her of her costume and touch what lay underneath. He took a deep breath, a moment of pause, and let the air held within him out.
Nothing changed.
She wove her fingers between his, and he hesitantly took hold of her hand.
"You are yet young," she said, keeping her voice low.
"I'm nearly three hundred."
She chuckled. "You still have much to learn about yourself." She let him go.
He paused. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and a warm, electric sensation sent shivers down his back. He perceived he was being watched, that Dyiij had taken interest in his desires regarding Sanci.
It was in that moment he erected himself and brushed off the back of his pants. "I'm sorry, I must go." He parted the curtain of vines and stepped out.
Outside his brother waited some distance away from the overgrown gazebo. He looked at Rollond with curiosity alighting his features. But Rollond passed him by without a word.
When he arrived back at the Spire of the 28th Enclave, he pressed his back against the metal door and wide-eyedly stared into the open space of his chambers. "Why are you watching me?"
— I am always watching you; I'm omniscient. Dyiij said, her voice sounding between his hearts. I know everything there is to know about you, Rollond. Even the lust sparked within you moments ago.
The hour was still somewhere in late morning, as the usual brightness of daylight between sunrise and noon had brightened the enclave. He stepped out onto the balcony and took a seat on one of the lounge
chairs. "I've been having some thoughts about my work here," he said, to change the topic. "The more I contemplate it, the more it feels like I can do better than Ridd and his arrangement."
He rubbed his chin, looking out over the droves of Kyusoakin. Already they began their usual tasks, working at various things with quasi-autonomic monotony. "I hate it here," he muttered. "The way these creatures are kept, how they are treated, working away like voiceless machines. Pfeh!"
A certain anger rumbled within his core, and the Alyi gave him time to let it pass.
— Do you remember the promise you made to me a long time ago, in the haven of the mountains east of the desert of Khaz?
He furrowed his brow. Her words from so long ago returned to him, crystal clear, as if she said it just yesterday:
— This is why I have come to you, Rollond, Dyiij said, her tone serious. You will not be the champion of my will, the Harbinger of Mokallai's undoing. You, instead, will become a stronghold, and under your shadow, all kinds of beings will take refuge.
"I will become a stronghold…" he said, his voice soft, hesitant. "And under my shadow all kinds of beings will take refuge." He wished she had manifested this time, because he wanted to stare at her. He sighed, and let his emotions go. "I don't want to rule."
— My dear, if authority frightens you that much, I will raise up princes for you. Regardless the place to which you are going will be established in your name.
"Don't I have a choice in this matter?"
— You do. Test yourself and see where you end up.
He left the balcony and went into his wardrobe. There was a time what he'd wear for the day would be laid out for him by menservants. But nowadays he picked for himself. "How will you raise princes for me?" he asked, as he prudently picked over the tattered jeans and thin-worn, dirty shirts.
— I don't think it's worth spoiling.
He dressed and took the lift to the first floor. Today there were dead trees to pull from the orchard. Thick-trunked, mature ones that no longer yielded fruit. He planned to uproot them himself, alone, to put his trust in his back and take his mind off of Sanci.
But Dyiij wasn't content to leave the matter alone, and she turned her attention to his brother in the Tenchmok.
At the Tenchmok gardens, Ashenzsi struggled to follow the precision of Sanci's moves. Her dances were meticulous, and for the first time in his life he found himself trying to manipulate muscles he never knew he had. He was bent backwards over himself, trying to get his abs to synchronize. But when he perceived Dyiij's attention settling on him, he fell flat on his back and stared blankly at the sky.
"Is something wrong?" Sanci peered over him into his face.
He lifted his first finger to his lips and shushed her. Dyiij's voice was one that Sanci was not going to hear:
— Get up, go to someplace private, and speak with me.
He rolled over and crawled away from Sanci. The whole while he could feel her awkward gaze, not sure what he was doing.
He soon came into a secluded place where some trees and bushes grew closely together. From the faint smell of the area, it was a place once used for breeding. He sprawled on his belly and crossed his legs. "You have business with me?"
— Indeed I do. That brother of yours is a stubborn character, and I know if he is left to his means it will be f-o-r-e-v-e-r before he takes the initiative to get going. And the subsequent generation is of absolute importance to me. So I'm plotting against him.
"I will not betray Rollond," Ashenzsi said, adamantly.
— Then you will do what I ask.
"No, why?"
— Rylieq has thrown away Sanci, by ordering her to kill Rollond. If she were to succeed at that task, the promise between Rollond and I is worthless.
When the gravity of her words settled within his mind, he lay back his ears and frowned. The last thing he wanted was the death of his dear friend and brother. "What will you have me do?"
— Make sure they're together and give them this.
Now, Ashenzsi was expecting something otherworldly when Dyiij said to give them something. But the thing that appeared standing in the grass was a small, gray crystal bottle. Save for its shimmer it wasn't all that impressive, a mediocre spiral design, and a round bottle stopper at the top.
He uncorked the bottle and sniffed the contents. It was scented oil. The smell alone left a sweet-tangy tingling sensation on his tongue. Soon his muscles relaxed, and he'd swear the grass was titillating his belly. He put the bottle down, covered his face with his arms and rolled around.
How many times he had rolled in grass, not once did it ever feel this good.
Dearest Alyi.
Does it ever stop?
Don't. Don't ever let this end. Unh, yes, yes please, oh —
Sometime later, Ashenzsi came back to his senses. He puckered his lips and gave that bottle a sideways glance. If a sniff could send him off, he couldn't fathom what applying it would do.
— Having fun?
"What is this stuff?"
— If I told you, you'd assume me more of a pervert than I really am.
He put the stopper back on and pressed until it was tight. Then he stepped out from the bushes, clutching the bottle, leveling it in one hand.
He stopped not too far away and watched Sanci dance. She always lingered near the same pond, day and night, as if guarding it against the other younger females. As he watched, the familiar presence of Rollond's consciousness made his skin ripple.
He was watching her through Ashenzsi's eyes, and trying so hard to be discreet about it. 'You're not going to leave her alone, are you?'
He sensed Rollond's reluctance to respond. 'She touched me…' he said, as if he had never felt the graceful hand of a woman before.
No, he meant something else, something deeper, something not seen with plain eyes. Ashenzsi understood the meaning of his words.
'I wish there was some way I could… return the favor? Ugh, but I don't even know her, and so-help-me, I'm unsavvy with females.'
'Hey, don't give out yet. Maybe I can ask her to come see you? I also have a gift for you both.'
'What is it?'
'I'm not saying! Just know that it'll be good.'
'I'm open this evening.'
'Perfect,~' Ashenzsi cooed.
That day was the first in which the whole world could sense the anticipation of its invisible Keeper. Dyiij was tense with expectation, and as a result, so were others, though most of them didn't know why. This included Rollond, who by sunset was grimy and smelled like sweat and the pungent hint of testosterone.
When he finally returned to his chambers, he stripped and descended into the tub. Still, he had knots in his stomach, and he traced his fingers along the ornate designs of his markings. The desire he had from so long ago still remained: he wished a tyiha would 'purchase' him. That was the point of receiving a kyusoa's Virgin Price.
In the 238 years since he was 28, he was having second thoughts. Perhaps there was a way to remove the marks without violating kyusoakin law.
He sunk into the tub, squeezed his loofah and glared into the open space of his bathroom. When he finished he lingered at the tub-side, and watched as it drained and cleaned itself. Then he ducked into his wardrobe, thinking, at first, that he should wear something that made him look regal.
But kyusoas had no concept of royalty, and he decided to put on a pair of silk pajamas and don his favorite robe. She probably wasn't going to stay all that long anyway.
When a chime sounded in the main room, he knew they arrived. He rummaged through his kitchen, dismayed that he didn't have anything heavy to eat. Because he spent his active hours with the kyusoakin in his care. He worked alongside them, he drank with them, he even ate what they were given. That slop was disgusting.
He pulled together a simple platter of cheese and vegetables, the best that he had to offer. He put the platter on the counter with three drinking bowls and a bottle of sweet-salty, malted liquor. Also a
pitcher of water just in case.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open.
Sanci stepped out first, plainly dressed in a kaeidyl, the female's pants, and vest with semi-transparent sleeves. "Tsche au," she said, gesturing with her hand. "Ashenzsi said I should give you this." She held out the small bottle of scented oil.
"Ah, thank you." He took the bottle from her, and stepped aside. "Please, come in."
The purple of the evening sky was settling in. Already streaks of silver were snaking about like the first strands of an aurora. She stepped onto the balcony. "Where you stay is so up high. Makes me want to sprout wings and take flight from here. But I am a creature in bondage."
How those nacre eyes struck him when she turned. "I understand exactly how you feel," he said.
"Really?" Her pitch lifted.
"M'hm." He nodded.
"You are a master here."
"No, I'm not. The things I wish to do, I don't do. The things I want, I can't have. The sobering taste of liberation eludes me with my every fleeting breath."
"What does liberation mean to you?"
"Exception," he said, quietly. "I hoped there would be a tyiha bold enough to purchase me, but I have not met —"
"'Purchase'? You are a virgin?"
"I…" He didn't think she'd pick up on it so quickly.
"Show me," she demanded.
With hesitant hands he started at the first button, then the second, taking his time to get to the third, and so on. All the while he kept staring blankly into the space between them. He noted: there was no sign of haste in her body language, no eagerness for him to get his pajama shirt off, just this matured patience while she sat.
Finally he peeled the silk top off. The markings on his chest and stomach were still as crisp as the day they were painted on with a very special, lasting ink. The smell of the ink had faded, and he tensed when she rose from her seat, came near, and sniffed at the markings.
It smelled authentic, faintly, but its insignia was there. What was on his chest was history, things he had done so long ago, and on his stomach was his appraisal. Yet the lines went down past his pants, and she hooked her finger around the hem and pulled them down.
"S-sanci, I — w-what are you —"
"Tsss! Hush!" She pulled his pants down until they dropped to his ankles.
It was customary among the kyusoakin that the females see what they were getting. Males were required to strip and put themselves on display, a private show for an interested, potential mate. She was allowed to assess his cock, even test him to see if he maintained his virginity.
The authenticity of a Virgin Male was a serious matter. If he violated the law of the Price, she had the authority to 'De-male' him.
Rollond, though, had imagined it happening differently. He wanted there to be some form of bonding, some kind of love, intimacy, between their first meeting and now.
He felt the heated press of her lips, and the smooth, narrowed tip of her tongue sliding past his own. He closed his eyes, and tried to relax. It was difficult to let himself go, as her tongue deftly explored his mouth.
Soon enough she was done. "Go lay down." She pointed at his bedroom.
Without a peep he did as told, discarding his pajamas and, with an uncertain gait, strode into his room. He sat on the foot-end of the bed, torn between an intense wanting and the jittery sensation of needing to flee.
She set the bottle of scented oil on the nightstand when she entered, and sat down to the right of him near the head of the bed. "There's no need to be nervous," she said.
"I can't help it," he kept his tone low, unable to force that typical, stalwart, ever-calm voice of his.
"Because you don't know what to expect. Here, I'll help calm you down. Lay on your stomach."
Without objection, he scooted up on the bed, laid back, turned over. A short time of quiet passed.
Then in a soft voice, she said: "You are going to feel my skin."
When her palms splayed on his shoulder blades he expected that to be the extent of her statement. But she had stripped out of her clothing during that moment of silence, and the smooth of her legs gradually enclosed around the small of his back.
She straddled him, and rocked forth, stretched, then gradually sat back, and her weight subsided on him.
He felt her weight shift. She reached for the bottle of scented oil, unstopped it, and poured only a small bit of it on his back. Then her hands descended to his flesh, and she spread the oil over his skin.
He shuddered, folded his arms underneath his chin, and wanted to melt underneath her, to arch his back into the press of her palms, and lose all sense of time and place.
"Bear your rou'u to me," she said. "What are you expecting by being bought?"
"I…" His initial take on why he wanted the price in the first place was so long ago that he'd nearly forgotten. "A partner."
"A partner for what?"
"I'm not sure. At the time I thought 'love' but in the years since I've never felt — that — con-nec-TION — !"
She drove her knuckles into the meat of his back at either side of his spine. There were knots, spots of thick tension in him. She pressed, then let-up and gently kneaded.
As she did, he panted. A most exhilarating pain.
"Our virgins are not bought for love."
"Sure fooled me."
"That's because you are an uunan and place too much value on fantasies."
"So there's no such thing as love among you?"
"Depends on how you define it."
"That emotion that — ooohh…~"
She was a daring creature, and he felt it when slid back and stroked the tips of her fingers along the small of his back clear to the taut cheeks of his butt.
"If love is an emotion to you, you'll always find it but never keep it long."
"How do you know?" He sensed a certain reluctance, as though she didn't want to speak about something that was painful.
"My first mate," she started with a different, less stable tone. "When he was successfully engineered I thought, finally, someone of my own kind to love. But he was a flawed creature. There was no emotion in him, no connection, no heart. Together we sired an entire species. Then one day I was abandoned, and Tsuboha was no-where to be found."
She lifted her hands from his body and sniffed, holding them near her face.
He rolled over and noted her wet, narrowed eyes. "Sanci, I'm sorry." He reached out and took hold of her hands.
"It's not your fault." She smiled.
He could tell she was resilient. Not a tear crossed her cheek, and although her eyes were teary, that wetness soon receded.
"I want you to know that I enjoyed this," he said. He liked the feel of her weight, because it gave him a slight shiver, being naked underneath. How he exercised such restraint, to keep his member from prodding at things he knew little about, namely, her sex.
But then she slid up onto his belly, out of his reach, and dismounted. "I did too. Keep this thought with you: I will be your purchaser, but now is the time to think whether you want to opt out."
She got out of his bed and started for her clothes, stopping only when he took her wrist.
He parted his lips and drew breath to speak, but she wouldn't let him.
"Now is not the time to answer." She pulled out of his grip and got dressed.
He sat on the edge of the bed. "Sanci —"
She glanced at him: No.
"Sanci, wait!" For the first time in his life he heard a pleading tone in his voice. But she wouldn't give him the time of night to utter a word beyond her name.
She entered the lift, the doors closed, and she was gone.
The night time air in the gardens could refresh anyone weary. Except that Rylieq wouldn't allow Dyjian's sweet, tropical winds to calm his agitated mind. He roamed the gardens, as if a lost child in a florist's paradise. The She-kyusoas were huddled together, sleeping with one another for a sense of security. He expected to see Ashen
zsi among them.
He had a mind to search and see what Ashenzsi was up to, but a moonlit shadow at the top of the steps near the entrance to the temple from the garden caught his attention. "You were out?" He asked, as Sanci gracefully descended the stair.
"Tsche, and I was hoping to be back before you noticed."
"Why did you leave?"
"Rollond summoned me."
"Oh?" Rylieq's pulse quickened. "What news, how did it go?"
"Well."
"Tell me he's dead. I need to hear that."
She flattened her ears and shook her head. "Not yet."
"Sanci," he sighed, irate. "I am counting on you to do this one thing for me."
"You want me to murder an innocent man."
"How do you know if he's innocent or not?"
"Because he would've…" She didn't want to let on that something physical happened. There was an attraction, and she desired to protect it.
"Would've what?"
"Please, I want to rest." She started to move past him, but he snatched her arm and forced her against a tree.
"You will kill that man," he seethed, getting in her face. He unsheathed a dagger and held it to her throat. "You understand me?"
"Rylieq, please…"
He pushed the blade to her flesh until a fine line of blood trickled down from the corner of her neck. In that moment he saw fear mounting in her nacre eyes.
She swallowed. "Please."
He shoved her down. "Go."
She turned on all-fours and ran from him.
There was a secluded place hidden behind one of the waterfalls, a place dug out of the thickness of the wall. A place that Sanci shared with Ashenzsi.
Ashenzsi was awake deep into the night. When he spotted Sanci entering, he smiled and opened his arms to embrace her. He knew the time she spent with Rollond went well, though he never told her how he knew about these things.
"Seih," he said, motioning for her to come to him.
The two embraced, for a time.
"You are not alright," he said. The smell of her distress was as pungent as rancid farts from a half-dead old man. All the more so since he had an acute sense of smell, and the pheromones she exuded were upsetting him. "What happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it." She let him go, and went to the spot she always slept in. Then she lay down, curled, and tried to sleep.
Chovas, the 9th day in the month of Yiluzsi
The balcony of the Spire seemed to be the only place Rollond could find comfort. The only place where fresh air swept away the mixed scent of the oil and Sanci, almost blew away the lasting memory of that one night.
She insisted he think on it. He gave seven days for his thoughts. Seven, long, agonizing days. Just as many nights passed, and her scent still marked his covers. How he lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling while the mixed smell of the oil and her body taunted him relentlessly.
All he could think was that he wanted Sanci. True, it was not the intoxicatedly romantic notion he fed himself when he was a young man. Yet his hearts quaked with passion and his body ached to feel her again.
Then the main room chimed. He waited some time for the lift to ding and the doors to open, but when they didn't he dragged himself from the balcony. Each step through his quarters reminded him of what he didn't have, yet he managed to get into the lift and hit the third floor button.
Shorty afterward he arrived on the third floor. The first thing he noticed, as soon as the doors parted, was the midnight blue shawl draped over the head of some woman. She was dressed in all the same color, and hid her face from the light.
Right away he knew who she was. Because the moment he stepped out of the lift, she sidestepped and turned, and he recalled Sanci's distinct tail.
"How have you made it down here without being noticed?"
"I'm an artist." She left it at that, pulling back her hood. "I've come to ask for your protection."
"… Protection. From what?"
"Can we talk elsewhere? My feet are aching."
"Yes." He pushed the button, the lift opened and he motioned for her to enter. He stepped in after her and pushed for the top floor.
There were seats within the lift. She sat, and rubbed her feet. That was when he noticed that her long, finger-like toes were curled, and her palms were forced into mimicing a human's foot. Her legs popped loudly as she stretched them. She wore her tail around her neck. The midnight blue of the feathers resembled silk until their colors returned to normal, and her tail descended to her side.
By the time the elevator dinged and opened to his quarters, she was back to her normal self. She stepped out ahead of him, pausing to take in the view.
The sun was on its way north, gradually herding the day to its eventual resting place. The sky was clear, with colors splashed and streaked about as if a child with an artist's ambitions had taken a brush and a pallet to an empty canvas.
No matter how many times she gazed into that empty, wind-driven space, it never got old.
"Rylieq is why I want your protection. He tasked me with your execution, and if I don't do it soon, he will kill me." She faced him. "And yet I know this will not be so simple as a request and fulfillment."
"Of course not," Rollond said, his voice deep, buttery smooth. "I've thought about it since that night, and my mind is made up."
"Good. If you don't mind, I'd like to rest." She could barely smile at him.
"Yes," he said. "Make yourself at home."
The first thing she did was pull back the covers on his bed and slip in between the sheets. She slept all the rest of that day, not getting out of the bed when she was awake, and until that evening she didn't see him.
When he did return from his work in the fields with the kyusoakin in his charge, he bathed, pondered the matter of food in the fridge now that she was staying with him, and decided he'd handle that matter first thing in the morning.
A certain strangeness marked his features as he approached his bed. It didn't belong to just him anymore, and he thought, perhaps now he could approach her about sex.
But the moment he got comfortable a lump clogged his throat. He couldn't form a single word to voice his thoughts, and he lay there, restless, for most of the night.
Eiynvas, the 12th day in the month of Yiluzsi.
Now, the morning portion of the day already passed. The droves of kyusoa within the boundary of the 28th enclave went out from the cells in the holding pits, but were spending the heated day loafing around the watering holes. It was because Rollond, the enclave Overseer, hadn't left the Spire like he normally did before dawn.
In fact, that morning Rollond was bent on rising early like he always did, but he wasn't alone.
Even with the windows open the air still carried Sanci's scent. The same as the lingering perfume of fine women, it got into the sheets, and while she traced her finger along his chest, Rollond couldn't make himself get out of his bed, away from her.
He was nearly mark-free, save for his shoulders, the Virgin Price rubbed off with the application of spit and semen. Disgusting, he thought, cringing again, yet at the same time satisfaction rebounded within him as he recalled.
Her hand lingered. It didn't matter how much of her he experienced. Her hand, alone, could get the best of him. Of course there was the warmth of her depths. That internal part of her that kneaded him as if wanting to suck him dry.
It was a strange organ to him, because he'd seen vaginas before, and by his anatomical studies he knew precisely how they worked. But she wasn't a self-wetting creature, and neither did she have clit or labia. Nine stretchy tentacles guarded her vulva, and he laid there wondering what to do with them.
Were they like nine prehensile clits? If he fondled them, would it be pleasurable? Why were they there, what did they do?
Another sharp wave of pleasure rippled through him. Once again, he came in her hand, and loved that she wouldn't let him go.
Duties be damned.
She li
cked her hand clean, took the bottle of scented oil and mounted him. She poured a little in a ring around his navel, then pressed her palms flat to his skin. She was careful not to rake him with her claws as she smoothed the oil along his belly.
"Sanci, I need to get to work," he rumbled.
"You are at work."
"I mean…" His ability to think coherently was lost between the perky tits of her six breasts and that unforgettable heat between her legs. He enjoyed her weight, her lengthsome stomach, even the train of her tail when she opened her fan and coyly hid behind it.
"It's a different kind of labor, I know. Relax, and let my body take you away."
The more he breathed, the harder it was to fight. She had this smell, intensified by the oil, that was more intoxicating than several kegs of the finest malted liquor. He descended into euphoria with each breath, until he couldn't muster the mental constitution to return to his wits.
He entered into that place within her. Soon enough, as she steadily rocked, he came.
She didn't stop, rocking, swaying, steadily grinding. Even when she was slick from his seed, no.
He didn't care to know how many times he shuddered and loosed another wave of himself, intense orgasms surging through him, from the tips of his toes to the rapt confines of his mind.
Until, when she could hold no more, despite his having plenty to give, she settled on top of him, and let the last few contractions of her sex continue to titillate his already too-sensitive member.
He pulled the folds of the sheets up and around her, when she finally settled and her body was finished. One last time he ran his hands along her sides, and wanted to drift into the depths of sleep, when the faintest sniff reeled him out of his senses and back to his wits.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, then constricted his neck with the thick of her tail.
He thrashed. She forced him flat, snatching his wrists with her feet and holding them apart. He was wide open then. She bared her talons and swept for his throat, expecting to slash him open and that be the end of it.
Instead he bucked his hips, lifting her, and rolled. She fell sideways over the edge of the bed. He gasped, and within that same breath, leapt to the other side.
"What is wrong with you!?"
"I don't want to die!" she screamed, hysterical, tears streaking down her cheeks. "If I don't do it he's going to kill me!"
"I swore I'd protect you."
"It doesn't matter — you don't know Rylieq. I just can't… I don't know what to do."
He hated seeing her crying on the floor, never mind the half-done attempt on his life. "I'm coming around the bed," he said. He pulled the blanket off the bed as he rounded the foot, and, once he was close enough, he draped it over her shoulders and sat with her. He hooked an arm around her, and she sobbed on his shoulder.
"Give me some time to think this through," he said, purposely forcing his voice to be smooth.
"What will you do?"
He shrugged. The whole idea wasn't clear to him yet. He kissed her forehead. "You let me worry about that."
By the time she calmed down, the sun moved from the apex of the sky, reigning in afternoon. Clouds were rolling across the horizon, and the air carried the musk of rain.
He enclosed himself in the folds of the sheets, wanting to resign himself to exhaustion, but simply couldn't. He slipped an arm under her neck, lay the other across her waist, and pulled her to him. When she wove her fingers between his and pressed her body to him, he couldn't think of the gesture romantically. Still he tried to comfort her: "Au riischen a'elle," he said in Tswaa'ii: 'I love you.'
Yet the moment those words left his lips, his fingertips picked up a twinge of tension along her belly.
"Faszha metiid uutai," she said: 'That's the sex talking.'
He'd forgotten she didn't believe in love. He let go, rolled over and tried to sleep. Instead he watched her go to the closet, retrieve some blankets, pillows, and a long, semitransparent curtain. She piled the blankets and pillows on one side of the room and hung the curtain from the ceiling, sectioning off a small space for her.
"You don't have to do that," he said.
Her silhouette paused, then returned to arranging the blankets. Finally, she curled up on them.
Ascension.
Luorvas, the 14th day in the month of Yiluzsi;
What happened concerning the Ankusth Estate;
Spring of the 691st year into the Second Epoch of Dyjian.
The Kingdom of Ecstasy Page 5
