First Salik War 2: The V'Dan

by Jean Johnson

  One boot off and the other pulled halfway free, Li’eth looked up, and gaped. (Don’t do that!)

  Jerking upright, she looked over her shoulder at him, one brow quirked. (What? Don’t do what?)

  (You . . . rump!) he accused. He draped his socks over his boots, then tucked the boots under the chair. (We’re supposed to be going to sleep.)

  (Well, it wasn’t deliberate,) she pointed out. Turning back, she stooped again. (And I still have to set the clock. It’s just easier to read the controls at the back like this.)

  (Saints, you are going to be the death of me.) Standing up, Li’eth closed his eyes and unbuttoned his pants, then his shirt.

  (Just a “little death,”) she quipped back, and sent him a subthought explanation.

  Li’eth blushed and cursed under his breath. He kept his eyes tightly shut until he was turned around, facing the chair instead of her. (I’ll risk a diplomatic incident and spank you for that.)

  (Only if you want it returned, swat for swat . . . and yes, I’ll stop teasing you.)

  He heard what sounded like the opening of a lid, followed by a rustling of cloth. (Please tell me that’s sleepwear.)

  (Nope. That was my clothes hitting the hamper. I am all the way naked, now. It’ll be more stabilizing—for both of us. Off with your underpants, Highness,) Jackie ordered. (I . . . ohhh . . . you have a gorgeous back.)

  (Is that retaliation for my admiration of your rump?) he asked, neatly laying out his shirt and trousers on the chair.

  (No, back, not backside. Muscles,) Jackie clarified, her underthoughts rich with appreciation. (I do admire physically fit men. And you have some interesting stripes—does that one on the back of your thigh start on your rump? It’s been months since I saw you naked . . . and I was trying to be polite and not examine in any real detail. Even if you have a spectacular set of gluteal muscles.)

  (Visit the washroom first,) he directed her, refusing to answer the question. (I’m going to keep my back turned so I don’t . . . I am tired, and I do not need to be stimulated right now, because I need sleep more than I need sex. Neither do you, so no staring at my buttocks. I’d appreciate some help in keeping things calm for now.)

  (I’m going, I’m going,) she promised. A moment later, he heard the door slide shut, and let out the breath he’d been almost holding. (I know, Li’eth, it’s not fair. Women take longer to get stimulated than men do. Usually. And by the time I’d be ready, you’d be ready to sleep.)

  (Exactly,) Li’eth agreed. (I’m glad you know the timing of the hormones. I really am exhausted . . . and I really don’t want to disappoint you. But we’re not hormonal teenagers just past the first flush of jungen fever. So to speak. We can discuss this in the morning, alright?)

  (In the morning,) she agreed. (Though if you snore in your sleep, I reserve the right to poke you until you stop.)

  (I’ll share that right,) he sent. Padding to the bed, he pulled the covers down. (Do you have a preference on which side?)

  (No, pick one.)

  (Nearest to the washroom door for me,) he decided. (Since I’ll use it after you.)

  Turning on one of the bedside lights to low, he turned down the overhead ones, leaving the room in a soft gloom. That made the trio of na lei she had hung on the wall cast some odd shadows. Li’eth took a moment to peer at them, studying how they could look so fresh. Actually, they had been made from some sort of resilient fabric, stiffened, shaped, and colored to look like flowers and leaves, he discovered. Problematic when it comes to dusting and cleaning, unless they’re washable . . . The central one had what looked like jacaranda flowers woven into it, while the outer two on either side had peach-hued flowers. Nothing else decorated the chamber yet, but he suspected it was only a matter of time. Everything she had chosen so far called for bright, cheerful colors.

  The sparseness and modern furnishings contrasted with the sturdy antiques he had grown up knowing. Admittedly, the Terrans hadn’t been able to bring a lot of their own furniture because of space constraints, but their versions had been refreshingly different in design and delightful in comfort. Very few things in the Imperial Wing had been designed for that. They weren’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it hadn’t been the main priority in their construction.

  With the covers pulled back, he eased down onto her bed. It had some give to it, and an odd sort of movement he couldn’t quite identify. Lying back and stretching out, he discovered what it was: an air bladder of some sort, beneath some sort of softening surface that accepted his curves and angles. Within seconds, he could feel his tension draining away . . . which warred with the need to use the washroom.

  Thankfully, the door opened after only a couple minutes, spilling enough bright light to make him wince and wake up out of his light doze. Grimacing, he blocked the glare with a hand, then blinked at the colors swirling around Jackie’s lower half. That . . . (That’s not an aura, is it? Is that some sort of gown?)

  (It’s a projection of a type of robe or dress called a caftan. It’s not easy matching an illusion to the real movements of a body, even my own. I’m only putting in a half boot’s worth of effort. Your turn at the bathroom,) she added, crawling onto her half of the bed.

  Li’eth sat up with a grunt and headed for the bright light. (I do need it, yes.)

  (I put out a new toothbrush in a wrapper for you,) she added politely.

  (Thank you.) Using the facilities, he scrubbed his face with a washcloth and realized his stubble would need trimming in the morning after he returned to his quarters. Even if she had a Terran-style razor thing, he preferred the V’Dan version. Scrubbing his teeth, he rinsed his mouth, unbraided and brushed out his hair, then rebraided it to keep it tidy while he slept. It, too, would need a wash soon.

  Smothering a yawn, he turned off the main lights to the washing room. Leaving the night-light lit, he padded into the bedroom. Jackie had the covers drawn up almost to her shoulders, both bared and one covered in her black- and blue-shaded tattoos. She pointed at him. (Off with the skivvies, soldier.)

  Face a little hot, he turned his back and removed them, awkwardly flinging the garment at the chair. It barely made it. Sitting down, he tried to get into bed decorously, but Jackie leaned over, her shoulder and cheek pressed against his ribs. Her hand stopped his from drawing the covers over his lap for a moment, then she reached for him, gently lifting and turning his flesh. He held himself carefully still for her examination, trying not to let her touch arouse him.

  A moment later, she finished. Her withdrawal was coupled with a soft laugh, a low, richly amused chuckle. He knew it wasn’t aimed at him in any way, but he still had to query, ( . . . ?)

  Her reply was a mental singsong of smugness. (I know what millions of ladies and gentlemen across both of our empires are dying to know: Is His Imperial Highness striped or unstriped down there? . . . And now I also know what you look like when aroused.)

  (Ah. And . . . what do you think of what you have discovered?) he asked, slipping the rest of the way onto the bed and lying back. The bed jolted after a moment, hissing and humming. (What? What is it doing?)

  (Relax; it’s just the mattress boxes—the airbag cushions, each one no bigger than a child’s head or so. There are dozens of them under the main padding, which is a layer of what we call memory foam. The boxes are hooked up to thin tubes and a series of quiet pumps with monitors. They will adjust to your pressure points every time you move,) Jackie soothed him. (Mostly around the hips, which are the biggest indentation point, but there are sensors to detect other points of weight distribution as well.

  (It’s all automated, and it’s set to medium-firm at the moment, which is what I like, but adding a second person spikes the pressure a tiny bit because of the unified cushion and cover on top, even if most of the bladders beneath are individual compartments. We’ll see if that’s the right firmness for you in the morning—it doesn’t detect any diffe
rence if just one person lies down, but if it’s a second person, it’s going to attempt to automatically calibrate for the weight,) she added.

  The adjustments finished . . . and Li’eth found himself remarkably well supported. Blinking, he muttered aloud, “I see why you wanted to import this thing.”

  “It does pack up easier than an archaic mattress,” she agreed. “And it was my other point of indulgence. I’m still waiting for a day I can try surfing, but eventually I’ll find a day that’s not busy, the weather is good, and there’s a decent beach within traveling distance.”

  He lay there a few moments, enjoying the comfort, but it wasn’t enough. She was right next to him, just a handspan away. Rolling onto his side, Li’eth hesitated, then rolled against her, wrapping his arm around her ribs and sliding his right knee over her right thigh. (Much better . . . Now, you were chuckling over something?)

  (Mmm . . . one moment, I’m enjoying this feeling . . .) She scooted a little closer, nuzzled his cheek with her own, then sighed. (I really liked what I saw, Li’eth. But . . . tired. Sleep, now. Yes?)

  The bed adjusted under them. Li’eth nodded, nuzzling her back. (And I liked what I saw, but . . . sleep, yes . . . Saints, Jackie, I feel . . . I feel like I’m in Heaven, pressed body to body with you. I don’t . . . Words,) his sleepy mind asserted, as if that alone explained everything. Sighing, he snuggled close and relaxed. (Such joy . . .)

  (A whole year’s worth,) she agreed, more serious than the pun on his name would imply.

  He would have agreed, save that between one breath and the next, he dropped into exhausted sleep. But not alone. Jackie dropped with him, body and mind melded with his.

  —

  Li’eth didn’t know when dreams turned into reality. And he didn’t care. He didn’t care quite a lot, right up to the point where everything ended in heavily panting bliss. Right up to the point where he felt someone rapping on his mental walls—on both their minds—with a rather pointed, insistent pattern meant to get their attention.

  . . . . Yes?) Jackie asked cautiously, reaching out to see who it was. Li’eth, his thoughts still entwined with hers just like their bodies were entwined, recognized the other woman just as swiftly. Aixa, the eldest of the other four Terran telepaths.

  (If the two of you are done,) the German stated briskly, (it would be good if the two of you learned how to shield those sorts of thoughts.)

  (I wasn’t . . . thinking,) Li’eth mumbled, face suddenly hotter than any other part of his sweat-soaked body.

  (Precisely. You were both lucky you don’t know how to project empathically, or it would’ve bothered more than just those of us who can read thoughts. Darian and I have been shielding you for the last half hour . . . but for the first half hour, you were causing a ruckus while we were still trying to figure it out.)

  (Our deepest apologies, Aixa. We . . . didn’t have time to practice on Earth, where we could’ve gotten lessons in how to, ah, be intimate in a Gestalt without leaking over onto everything. It’s my fault,) Jackie added. (I forgot that that might happen.)

  (Well, I’m happy for both of you. Now, don’t do it again!—I mean, you can do it, but shielded, fraulein!)

  (I got it, I’m shielding, I promise,) Jackie pledged. Aixa retreated . . . and the slight sense of pressure in the air faded as well. She quickly put up a bubble of her own kinetic inergy around the two of them. (Ancestors, that’s embarrassing . . .)

  Li’eth started to agree . . . then broke down in snickers, which he tried to smother into her inked shoulder. They quickly became chuckles, then turned into helpless laughter. He felt her trying to query as to why, but he simply could not explain it, other than just . . . joy. All-encompassing, thoroughly pervading joy. That, and the best night’s sleep he’d ever had, and full, saturation-level pleasure, like a sponge tossed into the ocean and allowed to sink to the depths, overflowing with liquid satisfaction.

  He kissed her shoulder, feeling aroused once more. Jackie groaned, however. (We can’t, Li’eth. It’s already half past six. Neither of us heard the alarm go off . . . which is an absolute first, for me. I’ve never been so deeply involved in lovemaking before that I . . . that I, uh . . .)

  She broke off with a giggle. Another escaped her in a sort of snerk sound, then the rest of them pealed free, echoing off the walls of her bedchamber. Her joy hit him then, purified joy, straight through the link bonding them together. It went straight to his head, too. Before they knew it, they were—

  (Verdammt, fraulein! I told the two of you to shield it!) Aixa snapped.

  Both of them stopped moving, freezing in place. Sheepishly, Jackie replied, (Sorry, Aixa . . . but it is our first time together. Add the effects of a Gestalt on top of that, and, well . . .)

  (Yes, yes, I know. But I am trying to eat breakfast, and such things are not appropriate at the verdammt dining table. Thankfully, most of the embassy is mind-blind to such things, or we’d have soldiers and staff members rutting on every available surface.)

  (Okay, okay, you don’t have to draw me a picture of a boot to get the message!) Jackie retorted. (We’ll stop . . . particularly since you’re ruining the mood.)

  (Fair’s fair, you ruined my blintzes. You’ll need to approach lovemaking like any other lesson in psychic abilities,) the older woman lectured them both. (That means calm, clearheaded, planned practice sessions—and focus on the practicing of the shielding as the most important thing.)

  (Yes, we do understand. Enjoy your breakfast, Aixa.) Sighing, Jackie stared at the ceiling. The curtains were drawn against the glow of the lights illuminating the Winter Palace grounds, but there was light coming in from the washroom. (We do need to get up. And shower. It may be my favorite scent right now, but this isn’t the sort of perfume that smells of professional behavior.)

  Li’eth chuckled at that. Kissing her shoulder, he moved away. (I’ll go first, and get the shower started. You’ll want to hurry, or you’ll miss the soaping cycle.)

  (Oh no, we are not sharing a shower. We’ll be even later if we do that, and get another lecture from Aixa,) she told him. (I’ll shower first. You will shower after I am through.)

  (Yes, meioa,) he quipped, teasing her for her autocratic decision. She was right, but he had to tease her for it.

  Self-discipline was not easy. She was . . . breathtaking. Expressive. Warm and sensual and caring, and . . . it was a good thing the temperature of the water in the shower was adjustable; he needed to shiver like that by the time he got out. Combing his hair didn’t take long, but when he started to braid it, his now fully dressed partner shooed his hands away from his head. With just a bit of thought and a minute of work, tugging this way and that on his scalp, she had it plaited and tied off before he knew it.

  Except it wasn’t a standard, simple plait. Li’eth frowned at the mirror, twisting this way and that. He pulled the tail forward. “What . . . ?”

  “We call that style a fishtail braid with a twist down each side, a fancy variation. It’ll match your uniform a bit better than that simple one you usually wear,” Jackie added. Her hair had been pulled up into a braid that wrapped all the way around her head, with no end in sight. Almost like a reddish-black crown, albeit one with hints of kinks from her natural curls.

  Her outfit was military as well, if in mottled shades of camouflage gray rather than anything formal. Then again, he knew she wore her “fatigues”—what an odd thing to call them—when she had her self-defense exercises scheduled in the mornings. Usually at the same time as his, though sometimes his were taken over by meetings. As were hers, sometimes.

  He tossed his plait back over his shoulder. “It does look good. Thank you. I should go . . . I need to get breakfast.”

  “Have some here,” she offered. “That’ll save you time even if it’s just buffet food. That, and I can feel how hungry you are, the same as I am. One thing, first.”

  Curious
, he leaned closer at her beckoning . . . and received a kiss for his troubles. A brief one. It ended in a smile as Jackie pulled back. He wanted more on a primal level, but . . . the kiss itself was satisfying enough, in its own way.

  “How do you feel? In your level of restlessness, I mean,” she added in clarification.

  Li’eth considered her question, evaluating himself internally. “Remarkably calm and centered. You?”

  “The same.” Jackie smiled, her dark eyes glowing with satisfaction. “Ready to take on the mountain of paperwork ahead of me, in fact.”

  He nodded and followed her out of the washroom. “As much as I want to come back tonight, I should probably stay away. I’ll stay tomorrow night,” he added quickly, feeling a pulse of disappointment. “Not that we could keep my presence here overnight a secret.”

  (Aixa implied that our, ah, “leakage” didn’t spill over any farther than the nearest sets of rooms, where the nontelepathic are concerned,) she told him, reading his subthoughts. They passed from the hallway to the parlor, heading for the front door. (Anyone sleeping in this sector is both smart and trustworthy enough to be discreet . . . and the other telepaths won’t tell anyone else. They’ll yell at us in private for any indiscretion, but they’ll otherwise be discreet about it.)

  She touched the door controls and started to step out, only to quickly step back. Li’eth almost ran into her, hastily moving back. Spotting the reason why, he made room for Lieutenant Jasmine Buraq as well. The tall, brown-skinned woman had a datapad in her hand and had been only a few lengths away when the door opened. She stepped inside as soon as she had room and lifted the pad the moment Jackie shut the door again.

  “Colonel, I have some new regulations from the Command Staff, sir,” the platoon lieutenant told her. “Lieutenant Paea took the call personally, but since he’s still on watch for another few minutes, I said I’d run it to you. You’re going to have to tell everyone. Orders like these . . . have to come from the chain of command.” Pressing the tablet into Jackie’s hands, she apologized. “Sorry, sir, but the buck stops here.”