by Nikki Clarke
“You ready?”
“Do not be jealous, saeh’ti.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not jealous. You don't even have a damn phone, so I know you didn't give her your number.”
His mouth quirks at the corner. “I did not. She was insistent, so I recited a series of numbers until she seemed satisfied that I had provided adequate information.”
I laugh. “You gave her a fake number?”
He shrugs, and I shake my head.
“Oh, god. Come on before she figures it out and comes back here to demand the real one.”
I start for the door, and Ah’dan falls in line with me. As we step outside, he reaches out and folds his hand beneath mine, giving it a little squeeze as it swings between us.
***
“I can't.”
“Of course, you can.”
My legs shake as Ah’dan drives me up the bed with another punishing thrust. It’s taking everything in me not to come, but he’s said I can't until he says so, and I kind of love doing what he says.
He’s hitting me just right. Every thrust caresses along the back of my clit making it harder and harder to stop myself from catapulting over the edge.
My gasps are desperate, and he doesn't give an inch as he gives me every one his. The force of his hips hitting my thighs is brutal. They send sharp jolts through my pussy that expand up through my middle like tiny branches and burst into blooms of pleasure.
“Ah’dan!”
He lifts his head from where he’s sucking one of my nipples, popping off with a wet plop. “Yes, saeh’ti.”
“Let me come,” I plead. He hasn't stopped fucking me, which means I’m still trying to hold on.
“Are you telling me how to handle you, Niya?” He stills, and I groan at the loss of sensation.
“It’s too much.”
“You are too focused on the end. You should only be focused on what I have told you to focus on. What did I tell you to focus on?”
“You.”
“What part of me, saeh’ti?”
“Your dick,” I gasp.
“What about my dick?”
“How it fills me.”
“How it fills you…?”
“Perfectly,” I finish.
“Well done. Now you can come when I say so. Stop talking.”
The firm tone of his voice sends a tremble through me that wars with my mission to both stay quiet and not have an orgasm.
He starts moving again, picking up where he left off, and each thrust inches me up the bed. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to focus.
He does feel good. To say that he fills me is an understatement. When he’s inside of me, there’s nothing for me to do but surrender to the delicious intrusion. As I concentrate on the movement at my core—the stretching, the dull ache that's immediately followed by a trill of pleasure—my orgasm stalls and hovers at the edge. I relax, enjoying the sensation of being so close to the end.
“Do you feel that?” Ah’dan’s voice is gentle and his hips slow to a steady stroke.
“Mm, yes.” I close my arms around his back and lock my knees at his hips.
“You are not merely a warm body for me. You are not a distraction. You are not a side chick. You are beautiful, and this,” he presses deep before retreating again, making my mouth open on a silent moan, “is to be cherished. You are to be cherished, and I cherish you. Do you understand?”
I nuzzle my head into his shoulder and sigh. “Yes.”
“Good. Now you may come.”
***
"Just try it!"
Ah'dan screws his face and moves his mouth to the side. "While I am not opposed to new experiences, this smells unsavory."
I groan and roll my eyes. "Dude, you're being really rude, right now. I tried your bom, you can eat this little ass chip."
As soon as I say this, Ah'dan's expression turns pained. It's like he wants to argue, but he can't. He takes in a deep breath and pushes it forcefully out of his nose. "You are fortunate that my culture does not allow for the disrespect of others. Otherwise, I would not eat this."
He opens his mouth, and I place the bright red corn curl on his tongue. I put my hand under his chin and ease it up.
"Chew."
I nearly crack up as he crunches down. His disgust only becomes more comical the longer he chews. When he's finally done, he swallows with an exaggerated motion then sticks his tongue out.
"Bleh." He smacks and moves his tongue around in his mouth like he's trying to get rid of the taste, making me laugh.
"Come on, it's not that gross."
He pulls a face. "I do not mean to insult your choice of comfort food, but this is worse than the bourbon."
I gasp and poke him in the arm. "You didn't like the bourbon?"
He shrugs out of reach with a teasing grin. "I am sorry, saeh'ti, it is very difficult for Lyqa to disrupt others. Qim and I did not want you to feel offense."
"Qim didn't like it either?" My voice rises in shock, and Ah'dan outright laughs as he confirms with a shake of his head. I stare in disbelief before turning on the couch to face the hall. "Qim!"
I shout, and a moment later, the door to the guest bedroom opens. When Qim steps into the living room, his cheeks are already pulsing pink. I shake my head.
"Look at you. Just lied to my face." I fight a smile and manage to maintain a proper scowl. He rushes forward, pulls me from the couch, and hugs me close.
"I am sorry, Niya. M'ah qitah. I did not mean to offend you, but it was so disgusting."
He sounds so serious that I burst out laughing and squeeze him back.
"I'm kidding; although, I don't know how you guys are gonna ever think to pass for any kind of Black if you don't like hot cheese curls."
AH'DAN
A dull ache pulls me from sleep, and I rear up, clutching at my chest over my First heart, which spasms painfully. The pain radiates up my shoulder and over my arm, leaving a trail of numbness in its wake. What is she doing?
Ze’lah was the daughter of my father’s closest friend. As younglings, we played together, and as we grew, there was no denying the attraction we held for one another. Still, we had both been surprised when my First heart was triggered shortly after we reached adulthood.
I had been painting her in one of the many feather fields on Lyqa. She was always my muse. I had been studying her profile as she sat among the tall, feathered stalks and just as I traced the outline of her eyes, my chest had thumped. It was loud, so loud that it startled me, and she had turned, smiling wide as we both realized what had occurred.
We joined for the first time right there among the fragrant flora. She was beautiful and responsive, and I had settled beside her anticipating the life we would spend together. There were two wonderful rotations before she left me. The leht was too much for her, she had said. She wanted to be free.
Since then, I took comfort in the constant thump of my First heart. It lets me know my lehti is alive and well. It lets me know that, even if only for a time, I was bestowed with the beauty of a Lyqa's most wonderful endowments.
This pain that I am experiencing now is unusual. It is not the dull ache I have come to associate with her absence.
I start, worried that it is an indication of something ominous, but a moment later, the sensation passes, and the muscle settles back into a strong, steady beat.
“You okay?”
I turn to find Niya looking up from her place beside me. My eyesight pierces the darkness to see the concern tilting her brows.
“I am well.”
I reach out a hand and smooth my fingers over her forehead. She sighs into my touch and shifts again to her side, falling back into sleep. I look at her resting contentedly, and for the first time in my existence, I wish that I were not leht.
In the few days I have been in Niya’s presence, my initial physical attraction to her has morphed into something else. It is vibrant and bright. It carries a warmth that rests across my shoulders like a caress and makes
me long to be in her presence. I have not heard from Tiani with an update to the condition of her home, but a part of me hopes that the repairs will not be completed soon, anything that will allow me to stay near to Niya. Being with her has shown me that there is hope for another kind of happiness in my life. And like Qim has said, it may be time to release the sorrow that I have held onto for all of this time.
I lower myself behind her, fitting her lush bottom to my middle and wrapping an arm across her waist to pull her back against me.
In the fever of our love-making, she has forgotten to wrap her hair. The cloud puffs into my face, and I lower my nose to inhale, wanting to take as much of her scent as I can. I did not lie when I said that she has become precious to me, but what I did not say, what I now know to be certain, I breathe into her hair as she sleeps.
“I love you.”
“What?”
She startles me as she jerks upright, reaching over to activate the lamp on the small table by the bed. I squint in the sudden brightness and when my vision clears, it is to find Niya looking at me with something of horror.
“What did you just say?”
“Are you disturbed?” I sit up, too, and face her. She tilts her head and regards me.
“Did you say what I think you said?”
“Do you think I said I love you?”
“Yes.”
“Is this acceptable, that I love you?”
Her scent turns shy. “I don't know. You haven't known me for that long. It's only been a week.”
“I met you nearly an Earth month ago.”
“I mean, you saw me for like two seconds a month ago, but you’ve been staying here for a week.” She is cautious, and I understand why. I know from my brothers’ interactions with their lehti that the emotions of Lyqa can seem somewhat—intense.
“If you will allow me, I will explain the Lyqa approach to affection. I believe, like terms of endearment, there is something being lost in translation.”
She relaxes and folds her hands in her lap. “Okay.”
“I have only been near to you for a short time, but in that time, I have come to understand you to be a beautiful, intelligent, clever woman. You opened your home to me and Qim, and you have been constantly gracious. Joining with you is the single most pleasurable experience of my existence, and I say this as one who has already experienced what is said to be the purest emotional connection there is for my kind. So, yes, I have not known you long, but I can assure you that the warmth that I feel when I look at you is love, and I am confident that this feeling of love will only grow as I know you more. I do not need to know you long to know that there is everything to love about you.”
She stares at me. As I spoke, the caution eased from her expression, and she looks at me now with gentle apprehension. I wait, giving her an opportunity to consider my words.
“That—that was really sweet,” she says finally. “It was just a little weird to hear, but I guess it’s okay if you kind of love me like that. That’s more like loving me as a person.”
I hold my smile even though the love I speak of is nothing like what she indicates. I will indulge her and allow her to think this, however.
“Are you at ease with my declaration, now, saeh’ti?”
Her lips twist as they do when she is considering something, and like every time she performs this gesture, I want to kiss her.
“When I think about it, it’s actually pretty sweet. Why you gotta be so sweet?”
“It is the Lyqa way,” I explain simply. I can tell she is fighting a smile. I reach for her and pull her toward me, turning us so that she is beneath me. “Do you not have feelings for me?”
I expect her to deny it. She avoids my gaze and fingers a coil of my hair. “Actually, in the museum today, I thought I was in love with you for a minute.”
Her admission triggers a swell of pleasure in my chest, and the space around my First heart warms. I lean down and fit my lips to hers, stroking through the warmth, and loving the taste of her. When I lift away, her deep brown eyes are soft and full of affection. She looks at me from beneath her thickly curled lashes and blinks slowly.
“So, does this mean we’re together?”
I give her another kiss. This one is gentle and holds the promise of what I hope can come. “It means as much as we can, let us see where our love can take us.”
Her chin dips in agreement. She is already naked, so I nudge her thighs wide, and come between them, stroking into her with a single, powerful thrust that brings our bodies close together. She gasps, and I swallow it as our lips meet.
***
“You should tell her.”
Niya sleeps in her bedroom. Despite our discussion earlier and joining after, I was still too unsettled to rest. When I come into the living room, Qim is seated in the connected dining area eating sawa.
“We have had a discussion,” I respond in our language, going to the fruit bowl on the counter and selecting an Earth orange. While most human fruits are too bland for the Lyqa palate, I find that oranges have a pleasant, mild taste. I sit across from him and begin to pull back the thick, puckered skin.
“You explained the leht?” He looks doubtful.
“I explained my feelings for her.”
“So, she knows that you can never truly love her? That you are eternally bound to your lehti in every possible way?”
I push a forceful breath from my nose and toss aside a curl of peel. “I have explained everything she needs to know at the moment. By her admission, this is still new, and neither of us knows where it can go.”
“But you know where it cannot go, Ah’dan. You smelled her at the museum. That was love, and not a passing infatuation or casual affection. She has developed true feelings for you, and I cannot believe that someone who is of our culture where love is instantaneous and forever can believe the short time you have known one another makes her feelings less valid.”
“Is our love forever?” I shoot back. “I believe my current lack of a lehti might disprove that claim.” Bitterness is not a common Lyqa emotion, and it is one that I have managed to avert for a long time, but it forms now as an acrid taste in the back of my throat as I speak.
“We are not without choice, sa’qi. It was Ze'lah's right to leave,” he reminds me gently as if I need it. “But even with the disappointment of having lost your lehti, you cannot deny that you still love her as much as you did the first time your heart beat for her.”
“I do,” The bitterness shifts to anger and then pain. “And what is worse is that I have no desire not to love her. Loving my lehti is still the most important aspect of my life. Every day, I wake and am thankful that my First heart beats strong and true. I am thankful that Ze’lah is still somewhere happy and healthy. It would be better if I did not love her, if I could replace that love with one that is reciprocated.” I fix my gaze on Qim, who looks on me with sympathy. “And to be clear, I am not disappointed; I am heart broken.”
I finish peeling the orange, gather the skin in one hand and discard it in the trash. I leave the dining area and head back to the bedroom. I miss Niya.
“So, you’re the oldest of three brothers? No sisters?”
I pass her another sticky wedge. “No sisters. I am the eldest. My brothers, Bati, who you met, and Kwarq are twins.”
“Yeah? I think I remember Tiani saying something like that. I was kind of out of it when she brought you here. Are they identical?”
I do not know this word. Niya is laying at my side, cradled against my body with her head resting on my shoulder. I pull away to look at her. “I do not know what this means, identical.”
She laughs. “You’re so cute when you’re all alien. It means they look alike. Sometimes, here, twins can be fraternal, which means they do not look too much alike, or they can be identical, which means they share the identical genetics.”
I nod. “Ah, yes, I see. They are a type of identical. I will show you.”
I lift, dislodging her from my
side and retrieve my pack from where I set it by the door when I brought my things into her bedroom earlier. I do not foresee sleeping on the couch anymore.
I pull out the small tablet that I brought with me for encrypted communication to Lyqa and bounce back onto the bed. Activating the shared database of my family, I access the images and hold the tablet up so Niya may see the first photo.
“This is my brother Kwarq and beside him is Bati.”
My brothers stand side by side smiling widely with their arms crossed over each other’s shoulders. Niya studies the photo for a moment.
“You guys are so fucking cool,” she murmurs as her eyes shift from one brother to the other. “How is it possible to look exactly alike and yet be completely different in every way?”
“Lyqa phenotypes are very diverse and very unpredictable. My dah’san and dah’sai are a lovely mixture of their human and Lyqa parentage.” I skip a few photos ahead until I come to an image that was taken shortly after Amina’s second daughter was born. She sits in the common area of our house with the rest of our family.
As Niya takes in those portrayed, her expression gets wistful. “Your family is beautiful. Like every single one of them is beautiful. I see why you guys never wear shirts.”
I laugh because in the image neither I nor my brothers are clothed from the waist up. Niya brushes a finger over the portion of the image where Tiani and my brother sit. She holds one of her younger sons, and Bati holds the other cradled in the elbow of an arm. In the other, he is hoisting a grinning KJ.
“They look happy,” she says, and her scent is regretful.
“They are very happy. My brother loves my sa’aih very much. He would gladly give his life for her and their children.”
