She should be thinking about escaping, not sex. Damn her cursed mating urge. Yet, her mind kept circling back to her body’s needs.
Even after they escaped, there were several issues in the way. First, she didn’t know anything about the guy’s life. What if he was already mated to another person? He might be fighting the attraction because he didn’t want to be unfaithful to someone he loved. She definitely didn’t want to have sex with a mated person, and cause him to feel guilty and unhappy about the sex.
Second issue: she, or rather they, should be trying to escape now. Not thinking about sex. Men were more aggressive and alert before sex, not after. Her dad was always lazy and happy in the mornings after lying with her mom. She knew he wasn’t that way normally because she’d traveled with him a few times without her mom, and he was a grumpy, unhappy, aggressive male those mornings, quick to anger. It didn’t take any sophisticated psychology to figure out the source of his timed good moods.
Maybe she could try to negotiate sex to get him motivated to escape…hey, let’s have sex, but after we escape. Right. His tongue had to be healing. The guy could have been in here a long time or only a cycle longer than her. Nonetheless, he probably already tried more than once to seek his freedom. Maybe that’s why he had the tongue issue.
Thirdly, and most unfortunately, she was still a virgin and the guy was huge. She’d been ready for her first sexual experience since she entered her first mating cycle at eighteen, but no opportunity had crossed her path which is why she’d taken her little run in the stinger. Between her father and Uncle Kugen’s diligent protection-slash-guarding of her, and the isolation of their home on Illysia, and the shared quarters on the family ship when they did travel, she was lucky to meet any guy she’d like to kiss, much less have sex with. Her cellmate was…massive. The whole losing her virginity would go easier with a less endowed male. But, based on things one of her Kadisian cousins had said about her first time, Nadiah could probably manage the act if her cellmate went slow and took his time. She was kind of glad she couldn’t see him, if the way he’d felt in her hand had been any indication of just how large his male appendage was. But, if it also meant aligning their interests, like escaping together, she could endure it. Cozy up for mutual benefit on two levels. She wasn’t afraid of pain. She just wanted to get rid of this persistent physical ache that intruded on her focus on other things.
Sex might even be pleasant, as he had only treated her with gentleness, and she certainly liked the way he smelled and the way his body was so muscular and hard. There was definitely a chemical connection. She might even get off so it could be mutually rewarding, though she tamped down any expectations in that regard. Her best friend Rayna had been sleeping with her fiancé for months now and said the first time had been a huge disappointment, but subsequent sexual encounters had resulted in more pleasure for her. Even though Rayna didn’t yet love her fiancé, she was fond of him. Rayna’s family was Illysian royalty and her engagement was a political contract. Fortunately, Rayna, being a pragmatic woman, didn’t have an issue with using marriage as a means for political stability when it benefitted her people.
Her musing and plotting stalled as her cellmate lay down on the mat beside her again. She tensed, and it wasn’t from fear. He didn’t touch her so she tentatively touched his arm, which was still damp from the shower.
“We need to find a way to escape and defeat our captors,” she whispered. She worried their activity earlier had instigated the gassing of the cell to shut them up. They were likely monitored by the abductors.
In response, all he did was pat her hand reassuringly. It felt…patronizing? Did he think just because she was small, she couldn’t defend herself, couldn’t get them out of the cell? Her quick temper flared to life. She could tolerate a lot of things but not condescension. Maybe he was content to hang out in a lightless prison waiting to be killed or sold into slavery, but not Nadiah.
“Well, if you’re not interested in getting out of this joint, then I guess I’m on my own,” she huffed.
Frustrated, she jumped up. She’d find the door. That was the first thing. She picked up and continued her initial exploration of the walls, seeking that elusive entry. She found it immediately a step past his mat. That was a surprise. The creature slept right next to it? Was he lying in wait for someone to come in? Maybe he was brighter than she thought. Although, he wouldn’t be hanging out in wait if he was as bright as she was, would he?
She used her fingers to determine the opening’s side and began looking for the usual electrical panel that would operate the door. Nothing. It had to be inside the wall. She inspected the wall on the left side. Most humanoids were right-handed, so the panel operating the door on the other side was likely on the right side, making it on the left-side on this side of the wall. She picked at the wall surface where it met the door, the only break in the continuously smooth veneer. She couldn’t get a grip to lift the overlapping material. The finished edge was tight and nearly seamless. She needed some kind of tool. She worked on it seemingly forever. At least a click. Her fingernails were ragged and torn.
Her cellmate stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulder, urging her to turn away from the door but she shook him off, letting her frustration express itself in the short temper she’d inherited from her father. How could the guy just sit there, waiting around for their abductors to cut off more of his body? So what if parts could be healed and replaced. It had to hurt. Plus, eventually, they would arrive wherever they were destined. For her, it could be a sex ring or a maid service, for him, considering his size, a mining operation. Then they might never escape. Well, he might never escape. Nadiah’s father would find her eventually, but they’d never find this guy and some part of her was certain that would be devastating to know. She’d wonder and worry about him for the rest of her days. The intimacy they’d already shared, even though it wasn’t sex, and the soothing way he had comforted her so far made him important to her.
“Dammit!”
She decided to continue along the wall to her original mat, checking for any other possible escape routes, then see if she couldn’t pry loose some part of the cleansing unit or the sink to use on the wall. She might need the creature’s strength to tear it apart, but she’d see what she could do on her own first. Her cellmate obviously need a leader to plan their escape. Since he couldn’t speak, it was impossible to know whether he was particularly intelligent or not, she reminded herself. Regardless, she planned to use his strength and power as part of her escape. She’d try to explain it to him in simple terms.
Twenty clicks or so later she sank to her knees in despair. The cleansing unit, along with the sink, and their various components, were solid, impenetrable. The chamber appeared to be one continuous entity. None of the parts were add-ons that could be removed. An effort to get her big cellmate to come and ripped the sink off the wall had failed. He refused to even get up from his mat, just sitting there, with his arms crossed like some kind of meditating mystic. She vented her frustration and pounded on the wall.
“Let me out. Let me out. What do you want? Why are you holding me? Let me out. My father is so going to butcher you people for this. You’d best let me go now before he finds me first.”
All that she got back was silence. And the sound of her cellmate chuckling?
“You think this is funny?! Maybe you could help us escape instead of sitting there like this is some damned vacation.” She imbued her voice with sarcasm. And she may have yelled. A bit.
She knew she was losing it. Nonetheless, she pounded on the wall a while longer until her arms and hands ached. Then she sank down to the floor and actually cried. Silent tears. She would not show them—or her cellmate—her fear. Her body shook with it though, and from the cold that had seeped back through her skin and was working its way into her very bones. Her teeth were actually clattering now.
The everlasting dark unnerved her, unsettled her. She jolted in shock at the touch of his warm han
d on her back. Then, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to his mat. He laid her down and started to release her but she clung to his warmth. The terror she’d held off ever since she’d woken was rising to dominate her thoughts. Her cellmate lay down next to her and pulled her into his arms again. She let her tears run silent down onto his hairy chest, while he stroked his giant hand down her back.
When her crying didn’t immediately abate, he rumbled a groan of sorts and clutched her tighter. Surprisingly, that gesture finally seemed to quiet her inner psyche. She began to regain control over her emotions. She hiccupped. She hiccupped again. Great. She was famous in her family for never being able to get rid of hiccups.
He must have realized that she wasn’t crying anymore because he eased his hold on her, but didn’t release her. They lay together in silence, in the dark, holding each other while she hiccupped.
“Just so you know, those were tears of frustration, not fear or weakness. I don’t cry easy. I’m tough and I’m getting us out of this mess, somehow, big guy.”
He hummed reassuringly.
Finally, she slept again, emotionally worn out.
***
When she awoke, her hiccups were gone. And so was the creature.
“Hello? Big Guy?” She knew she sounded alarmed. Her breathing sped up. What if he’d left? What if he was one of the creatures who kidnapped her and he’d just been in observing her?
“Hey. You. Partner,” she called out in a loud whisper. She wished he could speak so that she knew what to call him.
She stood, the mat crackling under her feet. She pressed up against the wall and started to circle around the chamber, stumbling slightly in her haste. She worked her way towards the cleansing unit and toilet. Maybe he was on the toilet. She should give him a few minutes but her panic at being left alone seemed to be making her choices for her and she needed to know he was still with her.
He wasn’t in the cleansing unit, at the sink, nor on the toilet.
“You. Hairy guy. Hey. Where are you?”
She stopped and listened for his breathing and couldn’t hear anything over her own ragged breath. He was gone? She felt the panic surging up into her mind and she took deep breaths to try to calm down.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said to the dark. She hadn’t even met the guy before yesterday. If she’d woke to an empty jail initially, she wouldn’t be freaking out now about some guy whose name she didn’t even know. A guy who’d soothed her and kept her from feeling completely alone.
Oh god. What if they’d come in and taken him while she slept and were torturing him? Would they cut off his ears next? Cut out his eyes? All the tragic things she’d seen and heard about over the years as part of her parents’ slave rescue organization flooded into her mind like a swarm of angry fleesters.
She shouldn’t care about a stranger. It was bad for self-preservation. And she didn’t want to die. She was a survivor. And a smart one. She’d gotten out of a few sticky situations in her short life and she’d get out of this one. She frantically made her way back to the place in the wall where the door panel had been.
And ran straight into seven plus feet and 250 pounds of hairy guy. The surge of relief practically overwhelmed her emotionally. She threw her arms around his waist and hugged him. He was rigid and unmoving.
“Big Guy!”
He didn’t respond or move.
She shook him. Or tried to. The man was a rock statue of hard muscle. He seemed to be in a coma-like state. She lightly smacked his chest with her open hand.
“Hey! Wake up.”
He remained unresponsive.
Nadiah clutched him, burying her face in his furred chest. It had become such a comforting place in just a short time. The steady pounding of his heart reassured her. He was alive. But his breathing was so shallow, she could barely hear it, even standing right next to him.
She began to pet him, running her hands up and down his chest, sliding her fingers through the thick hair on his chest. She tried not to make it a sensual act, but he was pleasingly hard and muscular under that soft hair. What color were his hair and skin? How would she represent both the strength and the softness with her paints?
“Hey, big guy? Where have you gone?”
Her fingertips slid across his nipples, which reacted by firming up. She pressed against him and played with his chest, alternating light tugs on his hair with soothing caresses of his nipples. Her own boldness surprised her a bit.
“Come on, Hairy, wake up for me.”
Impetuously, she leaned in with her face and captured a nipple in her mouth and sucked on it. She had no idea what compelled her to do it. The nub hardened to a point, as did his cock, which rose up between their bodies. Her own body flushed with arousal too, the wetness between her legs becoming more copious. Unfortunately, the rest of him still didn’t move.
She nipped his nipple sharply in her sexual mating frustration and finally drew a reaction out of him. His whole body jerked. His cock swelled up even larger, which made her curious to investigate it more closely. She had studied lots of pictures, even life size 3-d renderings of various species’ cocks, soft, and hard with arousal, for her art, but she’d never actually touched one in truth. She wanted to touch this one.
She couldn’t touch her fingertips together when she circled it, and the length, measured nearly as long as her forearm. Shit. In her examination, it appeared to be nearly twice the size of a typical male’s equipment, according to Rayna’s information. Male sex organs were fairly synonymous across the humanoid species in their galaxy, varying only as much within a species as it did between species. Fascinated, she stroked her cellmate’s cock and didn’t consider whether she was doing something impolite or offensive. She really just wanted to explore. She caressed his cock, letting her fingers drift lightly up and down its length. Even if he didn’t wake up, touching him felt nice. He was soft yet hard, his skin wrinkly and a bit loose, but smooth as satin as it slid over the underlying hardness. No hair, which she decided was a good thing. She loved the contradictions of the thick velvety skin over granite.
She was so caught up in what she was doing that she was caught by surprise when he suddenly moved. His arms came up around her waist and crushed her against his chest. He was suddenly breathing hard like he’d run a marathon. In a bit of a panic at what she’d been caught doing, she held utterly still. She’d been rude, touching him so intimately without his permission. She felt him dip his head over her and nuzzle her hair. His right hand slid down over the curve of her derriere and pulled her tight against him. She could feel how much stronger he was than her physically and it both intrigued and frightened her. Mostly, it made her body ache for sex. He held her for a moment. Then he lifted his head, swung her up in his arms and carried her once again to his mat.
This was it. She had wanted him awake. The guy was definitely awake, in ways she both desired to understand and feared.
He laid her out on the mat and crawled over her stiff body. He started kissing her neck, just under her ear and then moving down. He sucked on the skin at the hollow of her neck. He trailed his lips down between her breasts. He lifted a hand and cupped her left breast, running his thumb over her nipple until it peaked hard. He tugged it up with his fingers and drew it into his mouth. He used his lips to suckle and manipulate it, while his other hand played next with her right breast.
Nadiah moaned and arched into his mouth. The tension in her body shifted out of her bones and muscles and flowed into her pelvis. His mouth, his hands stroking over her skin enflamed all her senses. She began to feel wild, out-of-control. Her body moved from her own control into his.
He maneuvered his knee to force her legs apart so he could settle between them. He kneeled at the apex of her thighs, holding himself aloft with one hand on the mat as he moved his lips to her other breast. His other hand trailed down her body and cupped her mound. She stiffened again momentarily at the unfamiliarity of him touching her there but, acknowledg
ing to herself she wanted—no she needed—this, she relaxed and lifted her hips up into his cupped clasp, silently motioning her permission for him to continue.
He groaned loud then.
His large fingers divided her folds and stroked. She whimpered in new neediness. She hadn’t thought the ache in her body could grow beyond what she’d known. Emotionally, she was a wreck. Her fear, her loneliness, her confusion, her budding desire all blurred into carnal longing.
He slid one finger into her channel, which was slick with her juices. He grunted as he tried to push two fingers in and met tightness. He stopped what he was doing abruptly and started to pull away. She didn’t want him to withdraw, so Nadiah wrapped her legs around his hips, encouraging him to continue. He relented, muttering something unintelligible, and resumed sliding his thick fingers into her, though more gently this time.
He stroked in and out as he shifted down until his mouth was over her mound. She’d fantasized about a man putting his mouth on her like this, but the reality of the experience awed her by its intensity. He kissed and sucked around her clit as he widened the fingers stroking inside her. He pushed in with three fingers and she cried out at the wonder of the sensations, the stretching, the friction of him against her most intimate tissues. He stopped again, but she bucked against him, riding his hand to encourage him to continue. Didn’t he understand that this was primal, this was essential.
Baby, it's Cold in Space: Eight Science Fiction Romances Page 37
