by Naomi Lucas
Her eyes flick down between our bodies, stopping where my tailtip is curled around my shaft. She stares and takes a deep, shuddering breath.
I wait for her reaction yet all she does is stare. I puff out my cowl, delighted that she wishes to watch me. She takes in another deep breath. Pulling my shaft harder, I wonder how far I can go before she tells me to stop.
“What are you doing?” she whispers. Her hand slides up to cup her nose but not before her cheeks pinken.
“Relieving the pressure in my knot,” I growl, releasing the tip of my shaft and spilling all over her thighs and legs.
She jerks, shimmying her legs, trying to get out from where my seed is leaking onto her. I reach down and clutch her hip. “You wear my diamonds—you will also wear my seed. See? It is nice when you wear it.” I tilt my head at the glistening cum on her skin. “It is yours.”
Daisy stops moving, her gaze snapping to mine. Her other hand comes up to grasp the chains tangled at her neck. I pet her cheek, pull her hand off her nose, and while she winces, she remains where she is, sucking in another deep breath. She even relaxes.
“Zaku… this is…” She inhales deeply again. “So wrong. We don’t even know each other.”
“Wrong?” I check to make sure I am not limiting her airflow, but finding I am still fully above her, I move my gaze back to her face. Her eyes hood and dart between us, down to where I hold my member.
“I…” She brings the hand I pulled off her nose to join the other one clutching her chains. “I’m scared,” she whispers. Her chest rises and falls quickly.
My ardor cools, and I release her hip, bringing my hand up to cup her face. The other pets her tousled hair. “I know, but you don’t have to be. Our deal still stands.”
“Promise?”
“Yesss,” I hiss.
Her eyes search mine. They’re a light brown that complements her yellow hair and pale skin. I don’t know why I haven’t studied their depths until now, but they’re as alluring as the rest of her.
I smile, caressing a line from her cheek to her lower lip with my thumb’s claw. She relaxes a little more, and I lower my throbbing member to rest against her thighs, pressing my body to hers.
She tenses again, though it doesn’t last. Her body is heated. She takes in another heavy breath, and her flesh warms even more. A delicious scent rises to my nose. It’s one I have never encountered before. I like it. Immensely. I push my tail into her legs until she has no choice but to open them and let me lie between them. When she does, the scent blooms in the air.
I groan, my tail swaying gently.
It’s her arousal.
She wants me. I have aroused her!
I am king.
Uncoiling my tailtip from my member, I thrust once excitedly against her thigh. The sensation of her flesh along my bulge forces a winded groan from my throat. I empty my spill all over her.
She gasps as I spill and spill and spill. There is little pleasure from the action itself except for the release of tension deep inside me.
I rise and, grabbing my shaft with my hands, staring down at Daisy beneath me, I spill even more. Daisy’s gone tense again, but she lets me have this. Her fingers loosen on the chains and her hands drop to rest on her chest.
She’s panting wildly. I notice dabbles of sweat forming upon her brow.
Thrusting into my hand, I cover her with my essence. Fluid falls over her legs, her belly, her arms, her chest. It pools and trickles over her curves and dampens the bedding. I spill until the aching bulge is gone from my shaft. And still, I clutch myself, wanting to soak her, working all the built-up tension from my loins. Releasing my member long enough to remove her arms from her chest, needing to see all of her, I groan, wanting more than anything to sink my fangs into her shoulder and mark her and engorge.
She squirms, rubs her nose, and gasps again, stopping this primal need of mine. I spread my seed over her breasts instead, her neck, and even smear it on her lips.
The shock on her face excites me.
When her tongue sneaks out for a taste of me, I lose it.
Grabbing her thighs, I press her knees to her chest, drawing back to plant my face between her legs, needing her taste on my tongue.
She cries out, and her hands grab a hold of my cowl. Heels dig into my back as she tries to close her legs, undulating her hips all the same. “What’s happening?” she whimpers. “To me?”
I think I hear a twinge of fear in her voice and I glimpse her face to make sure. It’s not fear I find. Her face is flushed with fervor and...excitement?
Have I excited her as well? Pride wells inside me.
“Pleasssure,” I answer, helping her come to terms with this thing between us.
When she doesn’t try and flee, I spread her open wide, and take in her delicate human sex. Yellow curls glisten with dew, framing a soft pink slit. There’s a nub at the top that beacons my tongue, but it’s her little hole that brings my saliva forth. It’s wet and quivering. It’s small and delicate. And it’s open… For me.
For her king. Satisfaction joins my pride. I have chosen well.
“Zaku!” she whimpers my name, body straining against mine.
“Daisssy,” I hiss back, petting her opening with my fingertip. I lean forward and slip my tongue into her, pushing through tight, tender flesh.
She cries out again and her hips shoot upward at my invasion. I grasp them and hold her there in the air. The angle gives me even better access to her sheath. Sliding my tongue everywhere, tasting her, drinking her, I learn her from the inside out. Pressing my fork as far back as I can into her tightness, I reach her body’s end. I swirl my tongue.
A deep, satisfied groan bursts from my throat.
“Zaku!” Clawing and clutching my head, my cowl, her nails bite into my scales as she shrieks my name. Her little body writhes and she jerks her hips up and down like she’s trying to dislodge me or seek more of my attention.
But my mouth is planted firmly on her opening, my lips kissing it, refusing to move. My tongue is lodged deep.
My little flower needs watering. She needs to bloom to fit my stem.
She is small. And so is her sex. She will need lots of watering.
Pressing her back down to the bed, I glimpse her overly flushed and stunned face, her wild hair. Her eyes are wide and heated. I lick harder, and she hitches.
She’s not trying to remove me anymore—she’s doing the opposite. I smile against her dewy folds. Daisy bears her sex down onto my face, gripping me tightly. Careful not to hurt her, I open her legs wider and push her back until she’s sprawled out like a meal.
I could accidentally hurt her, so easily, a niggle of worry enters me. Perhaps her fear of mating is sound…
Her eyes close and her body hitches again, banishing my worry. She shunts into me, and when she does, I roll my tongue in deep circles. Her moans build, her gasps heighten. Her little noises excite me. Her body wants what I can give it. I know because her arousal thickens over my tongue. It gushes, and I quickly remove my tongue to swallow it, only to thrust my tongue back in for more.
Groaning, I feast.
Her hand comes down between her legs to pet her nub. Wondering what she is doing, I exhale a hot breath through my nose, staring as she works it. She moans, and I massage her thighs where I grip them.
The Python might have gotten here first, but I’ll be here last.
I’d kill him all over again if I could.
I lick her harder, faster.
“Zaku,” she breathes my name again, and my spine straightens, waiting for direction. There’s a rigid spot inside her that makes her moan when I flick my tongue to it. I use it so she stays put. “D-Don’t stop!” Her fingers quicken on her nub.
Good.
Her sex clamps down on my tongue, and Daisy arches her whole body, going abruptly silent. She flings her head back; and I look up, mesmerized. Her mouth purses as her chest arches. I’m tempted to pull away but I don’t want to stop licking
her. Her body convulses, and she takes my tongue with it.
She writhes on my face, and I give her the leverage to do so.
Sweet essence floods me.
My knot expands hard and fast from the assault, and I spill again, lapping it up.
Slowly, her convulsions subside, her breathy panting the only sound in the room. I hungrily swallow everything she gives me. If I could sustain my body with hers, I would. From this morning on, I will see if it’s possible. I will drink her down and see if we’re even more compatible than she wants to believe.
“Zaku...” she says, sagging into the bedding of my nest. She pushes my head out from between her legs. Sliding my hands up to grip hers, I swirl and lick her sex one last delicious time.
I will seed you soon, sweet flower. I kiss it goodbye and pull my tongue out, swiping at her outer folds as I do.
“No more.” Clamping her thighs together, she turns on her side, bringing her hands to her face and rubbing it. “It’s too much, too sensitive,” she whines. “I need… I need to think.”
I crawl over her until she’s within the cage of my body, my large tail coiled around us. She’s such a small thing compared to me. My worry returns. I have to be careful. So easily, I could ruin her. My hands, from claw to palm, span from her chin to curl over the top of her head. I carried her body for hours the first day, never tiring.
She’s all soft curves and lush breasts, softness personified, and a perfect contrast to the hard scales and ridges of my body.
She also has no natural armor; I don’t even know how she is alive right now without armor. I take in her scrapes and bruises. I take in the tangled chains gathered around her throat. I span my fingers out to grip them, pushing my fingers under the collar around her throat.
I will need to feed her well and often so she becomes more substantial. Daisy will need the extra sustenance if I plan to keep her nested for many years to come. If I plan to feed from her slit.
Her panting subsides as she slips her hands from where she has them pressed over her eyes to look up at me. The pink glow of her cheeks has yet to disappear.
“We’re only just beginning,” I say, leaning down and licking her jaw, gripping her collar.
But first, she needs food.
Seventeen
A Visitor
Daisy
The next couple of days bleed into each other.
Pressing my palms to the glass in the foyer, I debate if I’ve been here for five or six days already. Maybe more? It’s hard to keep track, even with the windows. Time is different on Earth than it is in space. Things are faster here yet somehow slower too.
Gazing at the bones in the yard, I make up stories about them in my head. Fierce battles, bloody deaths, and booming last words. Only for those words to vanish on the wind as Zaku ultimately wins. The more he wins in my head, the more I want him to win. The more I like thinking about it and imagining it.
Everyone has their heroes. Mine was supposed to be my father except putting him in that role in my head only infuriates me. I sigh.
Zaku’s out hunting and foraging to refill his stores and I wonder if he’ll battle today as well, perhaps bring home another trophy. I shudder, uncertain if I like the idea of it.
He says I’m too small and wants me to eat until I’m bursting. He needs more food for that.
I sigh, annoyed that I haven’t even tried to escape now that I’m alone.
Being alone is easy, safe. I became a pilot for that very reason. I can spend entire shifts alone in my cockpit, never encountering another soul. Though right now? It’s making me uncomfortable. Imagining a whole day alone churns my stomach.
I suck in a clear, unscented breath of air. With Zaku’s absence, his scent has vanished. I curl my toes, not certain I like that it's gone. His scent makes me happy—happy, of all things. It does something to me. At first, it was frightening, but now, not so much. It’s not always in the air. It’s not always spinning my thoughts. I’ve come to realize the scent only comes around when Zaku’s overly aroused. I don’t think he realizes…
Most of the time, though, he’s producing the smell. And, I, desperate to trust him—to trust in something—keep testing his limits, keep searching for a reason to distrust him like those I’ve worked for.
I’m waiting to be betrayed all over again.
Closing my eyes, I bring my hands to my face, rubbing it hard.
I should be trying to escape. I should be looking for Gemma.
Except all I want to do is pretend the world outside these walls doesn’t exist. My hands fall from my face to clutch the collar around my throat. I haven’t taken it off since Zaku placed it upon me. The diamonds and chains have been unhooked, but the collar remains.
I blush, remembering this morning how I gripped at his cowl and dug my nails into it, writhing on his face as he held me up on his shoulders. As his scent flooded my nose, warmed my body, made me ache feverishly, and almost had me screaming for sex. As his tongue slammed into me, dizzying my world.
Each day, I get to sleep for as long as I want, bathe in hot, scented water for hours, eat the freshest food, and relax. Throughout it all, Zaku’s touching me, massaging the aches out of my muscles, and trying to part my legs for his pleasure and mine. I stopped caring because it’s a distraction—he’s a distraction.
I’m growing complacent.
My hands fall from my collar.
Sex is commonplace amongst agreeable, contractual humans. It’s even encouraged to grow our numbers. Women, despite being soldiers, are still pressured to have at least two children in their lifetime. The father’s identity doesn’t matter. It’s the numbers that count. There’s always a need for more soldiers, for workers.
If I were to stay here on Earth, Zaku would be a great companion. He’s strong. He’d keep me safe until I learned how to keep myself safe. He’s not cold. If he were human, he’d give me strong children—he’d provide for those children, I’m sure of it—except he’s not, and interspecies relations have never resulted in gestation.
I can’t be with him. I want to be a mother someday. I want to raise my children the way I was never raised. With love, affection, and perhaps… dreams. I want to prove there is more to life than war and death. My fingers twitch.
Who’d want someone like me? I can’t offer anything anymore. The best I can hope for is a contractual relationship with a man who will impregnate me and leave, to impregnate another. I could do the same for a man who wants children, but then I wouldn’t be able to keep my baby, which is out of the question.
I don’t have the looks to entice a higher caste man. One who would willingly life partner with me. And then there’s the problem of barely having enough rations to take care of one, let alone a child.
It’s not in the cards, Daisy. It never was.
I inherited nothing from my father except his genes, his appearance. Everything he earned, he donated to the military. It was the first time I felt betrayed. When he died, I had no idea what was happening, begging for him, confused as to why I was being handed off from one official to the next. They didn’t even let me keep one of his medals to remember him by. My father was there, and then he wasn’t. He and the military taught me not to rely on anyone in the most brutal way possible, through innocent, childish confusion.
Zaku could teach me things. Different things. How to survive here. He could make me stronger.
Feeling my eyes grow heavy, I force my tears away. I’ve gone years without crying. Earth, Peter, and the Python unraveled all of my hard work and I hate them for it.
Zaku could show me how to use the tech. He could teach me about this land. I suck my lower lip into my mouth and chew on it, knowing I’m trying to convince myself of life here on Earth. That living here is a possibility. Glimpsing the scars on my hands that I’ve sustained over the years, guilt floods me. I brush them with my fingers. Zaku cares a lot about the way I look. I don’t understand why. I’m not particularly beautiful for a human woman, but he
doesn’t seem to know that.
I can’t help wondering if his affections can be easily shifted, and if they are—if there were more “options” —would he still think I’m beautiful? I scrunch my face.
You’re not staying here, Daisy.
I groan, turning to the stake right outside where the rotting stump of the Python’s head is decaying. It’s been covered in maggots for days, surrounded by bloated flies. One of the flies crawls into its mouth. Looking away, my eyes go to Earth’s sun.
Where is Zaku?
Does Central Command know I’m gone yet?
Is Gemma okay? Shelby?
I hear a sizzling sound behind me. Turning toward the kitchen, there’s a robot preparing food.
Something thuds on the glass, and I twist back. A blue shimmer catches my attention as a rock tumbles away from the window.
Zaku?
Suddenly the blue blur comes charging toward me from out of the trees. My heart jumps into my throat and I fall into the room and duck behind the sofa. A naga male. The blue one from the plateau. I close my eyes and press my hands to my mouth.
Please go away.
There’s more thudding on the window, louder than before, and I flinch. I press my hands harder to my mouth. I wait, even pray. After a few minutes, the thudding stops. I wait some more and it doesn’t come back.
Slowly lifting my head, I peek over the sofa cushion…
I stiffen, and my chest constricts with fear.
The male sways on his tail when he sees me. He presses one of his hands flush to the glass. His palm is a brilliant orange, like his face, like his hair. Stunned, we stare at each other for a time, taking each other in. This one’s not like Zaku at all. The only thing this naga and Zaku share are their forms.
Where Zaku is a giant with a cowl and dull colors, this naga has a short tuft of wild orange hair on his head that matches the brilliance of his face and his hands, his body bearing a longer, thinner tail. The orange upon him is striking with the sapphire and indigo blues of his body and scales.
