by Lilly Cain
* * *
John rolled to his side. The sheets on the bed wouldn’t stay put. He groaned and rolled to the other side, tangling them further. The blanket was long gone. He’d tried to beat his pillow into submission some time ago, but it hadn’t helped. It was somewhere near oh-two-hundred in the morning and he was wide-awake. Giving up on the pretense of sleep, he signaled the bedside comp to engage a dim overhead light.
He’d been aboard the SS Osprey for three days. Three long, boring days after the initial excitement of the sneak attack on his quick spacewalk and meeting with the CIC. Each day Davis fed him information, and he worked through the data with the rest of the legal team. So far there hadn’t been a hitch, no question of his background and no sign of any terrorist threat. Slowly the team was working through the excruciating detail of the Human Accord, which had to be signed before the human/Inarrii Treaty could be completed. If it hadn’t been for his bodyguard, he might have died from boredom.
He flung an arm up and behind his head. Already his cock stood in stiff attention at the mere thought of Sarina and her tight body. She was gorgeous. He was also certain she thought he was the closest thing to a cold fish she’d ever experienced. At least, that was his guess. He made a point to agree to every security precaution she suggested, keeping to his quiet, studious cover. Excitement, especially the kind that could come with arguing with such a powerful, beautiful woman like Sarina, wasn’t on his list of mission outcomes. And her demands were exactly what he would insist upon if he were in her shoes, guarding a foreign dignitary.
But God, he’d like to make a few demands of his own. She wouldn’t imagine him as a cold fish then. He’d like to show her how exciting he could be. Hit the sheets. Like to give her a taste of excitement, take her on a spacewalk, maybe even reveal his true identity…
Whoa, boy. Even in a fantasy that isn’t such a good idea. Obviously the monotony was getting to him. He turned his thoughts to the way the curve of her ass was impossible to ignore in her fitted shipsuit.
Unable to resist, he stroked his cock. He was used to action, perhaps even addicted to it, and all this data wrangling for the Treaty left only one outlet for his impulses. Sex.
According to intel, Inarrii didn’t just like sex, they needed it as some sort of psychological outlet. She was probably aware of his desire. They were also reported to have varying levels of telepathy and empathy. The brass believed that Starforce Agency training in mental discipline would probably protect him from anything but direct telepathy, but since he’d spent the last three nights fantasizing about screwing her every way possible, she must have picked up on it. Must know he wanted her and was more than willing to take care of any need she might have. But she hadn’t reacted, hadn’t indicated she needed anything at all from him other than compliance to her security precautions. His cover worked too well.
Not that he had noticed her interest lingering on anyone else on board, at least not before their foray into the gym. From everything he understood about the Inarrii sexual drive, that seemed a bit odd. Perhaps she had special training, or was repulsed by humans in general. But she didn’t show any signs of that either. Just a stoicism that seemed at odds with the way her L’inar had rippled while watching some of the guards sparring in the gym. Possibly she just found him dull, his thoughts uninspiring. It was a little depressing. Maybe it was because all he had done was fantasize. A fighter like her would probably prefer a man of action.
He stroked himself harder, imagining taking her against the wall in the conference room, or spreading her on the large meeting table so he could lick every inch of her, explore those remarkable nerve lines the Inarrii had on most of their body. Reports were clear on the function of the nerve lines—they controlled the Inarrii’s sexuality and reacted to pain and alarm as well. But not everything was laid out in the reports. Why did the lines not extend to her toes?
She had beautiful feet. She wore her shipsuit at all times, not slipping into the comfortable clothes most people wore in their quarters, or any of the traditional Inarrii clothing he’d read about. But one thing she did do when she was relaxed was to remove her ship boots and spread her naked toes on the soft carpets of their common sitting room. The sight of her skin, a golden hue even on the underside of her feet, drove him crazy. He licked his lips as the thick muscle of his cock jerked under his touch.
He’d never fantasized about any woman for this long without making a move. Not that he didn’t have lovers, but he kept his relationships short, uninvolved. His work didn’t allow him the luxury of a lover to come home to. If anyone discovered he had ties to someone, that person could be in danger. It was the nature of the Starforce Agency. But Sarina was a professional and from the looks of things, she could take care of herself. Not that he was interested in anything long-term. But she presented a seductive challenge, in every sense.
With a groan, he threw off the tangled sheet and rolled out of bed. Sleep wasn’t working and the thought of jerking off alone, again, wasn’t satisfying. His balls ached from unspent desire. A cool drink was in order. Maybe a beer or two. Not enough to lose his edge; he’d be on duty until this thing was over and the agreement signed. But he needed something to mellow out with before he went crazy and took another walk on the outer skin of the ship just for the hell of it.
He padded to the door leading from his private sleeproom to the common room and slid it open as silently as possible. No need to wake Sarina. If she could sleep through his sexual fantasies— A sudden thought had him stalled in his tracks. Perhaps she was sleeping through them, even dreaming while he was thinking of pumping his cock into her until they both screamed. Perhaps his fantasies were adding a little spice to her dreams. He grinned in the darkness of the common room. Hope she enjoyed the one about the chocolate pudding.
Shaking his head at his obviously sleep-deprived thoughts, he headed for the small cooling unit. He’d heard the Inarrii had technology that allowed them to dial a number and materialize the food they wanted, but he was satisfied with having a cooler big enough to store a few drinks and treats in his room. Plenty of his past missions didn’t have any kind of amenity. As far as this went, at least he had a private bath, a cooler and a soft place to rest at night, even if he wasn’t actually sleeping.
He pulled a beer from the cooler and popped the top. He took a long swig, nearly choking as a voice spoke into the darkness around him.
“You’re awake.”
He took a gulp of air around the cough that threatened to drown him in his drink. “Yeah, I am. Why are you awake?”
“I am awake because you are. That’s my job, remember?”
He could see her now, barely, a figure sitting on the dark corner of the couch, her feet tucked underneath her. How long has she been there? The thought nagged at him. Had she been unable to sleep because of his fantasy?
An edge of guilt sawed at his gut. She hadn’t welcomed any advances, but then he hadn’t made any. He’d just thought about her, fantasized about her. But if she could feel his desire… Unease tightened his shoulders. His earlier hope that she’d enjoyed his fantasies suddenly felt wrong, like forcing himself on an unwilling partner. This wasn’t in his mission briefing, and it was trickier etiquette than the Treaty negotiations he’d been set to guard.
* * *
He was backing out. She could sense him, had been able to feel nothing but him for the last hour as he tossed and turned in the sleeproom across from hers. She’d had enough. When she’d heard him step outside his door and into the public area, the ache in her sinaa had guided her out after him, even more than her need to fulfill her guard duty. Somewhere in the dark of the human sleep cycle she’d given up on the pretense of rest, and on the urge to keep her hands off this strange alien. He drew her, his sensual fantasies and muscular body giving her hope that she hadn’t had in months. Even his foreignness reassured her in an odd way. He’s human; he can�
�t expect the completion of L’inar. He can’t miss what he’s never experienced.
But he was drawing back from her now, the same way the Inarrii warriors in her clan had pulled away when they discovered her L’inar would never heal.
Her throat ached as humiliation tightened her muscles enough that she could barely swallow the hurt. Anger quickly replaced the anguish. She wasn’t going to keep being dismissed. Not like this, and by a human.
She reached for the control on the small table by the couch and toggled the seating light to its lowest setting. Human vision wasn’t as acute as Inarrii. The dim light at the base of the couch illuminated the bottom half of the seating unit but left her face in shadows. She stretched out on the couch, her pose deceptively relaxed, and by the way his eyes tracked her movements, he wasn’t as disinterested as he pretended. Not that anyone could be after picturing us in so many couplings. She smiled. He couldn’t see her expression in the dim lighting but she imagined the predatory curl of her lips might be enough to warn him if he had any foresight.
“I’m also awake because you’ve been lusting so loudly I thought I must either fuck you or smother you with your pillow. Either way, you would be out of your misery and I might get some sleep.”
In the silence that followed her statement she could hear his breath as he strained to take enough air into his lungs. Oh yes, you can’t back away from me now, can you?
“I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Inarrii don’t lie, and we don’t like dishonesty.” She stretched again and felt the heat in his thoughts spark hotter as he finally realized she wore only a pettan, the short, loose-wrapped garment covering her only from waist to knee. Her bare breasts peaked under his sharpened scrutiny and a hum of pleasure tingled in the L’inar closest to her nipples.
She watched him swallow and carefully set the beer down on the counter. Inarrii eyesight illuminated the nearly black room to her senses, allowing her to see in glorious detail his thick, jutting cock. He’d forgotten his nudity—humans seemed to have strict taboos about their clothing or lack thereof—but his exposure revealed more to her than his immediate response.
He was as beautifully muscled as she’d imagined. Not the body of a data tech. Not the body of an Inarrii warrior either. John Bennings didn’t have the density of an Inarrii, but the overall effect of lean muscles, thicker cock, silken body hair and exotic, unmarked skin appealed to her. She licked her lips. What would he taste like? His scent still reminded her of the seashore at home, and an image of him lapping at her sinaa like the warm sea waves against the shoreline wrapped around her mind, salty sweet. Her L’inar ridged around her breasts as she imagined what the sensation would be like, his smooth skin against her. She held back a sigh as her rising nerve endings sent a quick wave of pleasure though her, only slightly marred in its pathway by the disruption in her scarred arm.
His body continued to react to her. She could see the pulse in his neck beating harder. In reaction she slid one hand along the waist of her pettan, dipping her fingers inside the edge. He held still, apparently captured by the image she presented, but his cock bobbed as if she’d stroked it instead of her own skin. The contrast confused her. Why did he wait? He wanted her; she’d offered him release. But he stood still.
“Come here.” Her voice sounded odd to her. Did it sound strange to him as well? Be in control. “Come here and touch me.” She considered the feeling of guilt that had infused his earlier emotion when he’d realized he might be keeping her awake. “I can’t go back to sleep now.”
He took a step closer, two, then seemed to realize how his cock hung there, pointing out his desire. A flush of color stained his cheekbones. Another human reaction. Delightful. His embarrassment was touching, but also a lure to her warrior self, one she wanted to pursue. But he was hesitating again. He wanted her. Her m’ittar might not tell her his exact thoughts, but he saw her as a viable, desirable bed partner. She’d blatantly invited him to have sex with her, so why did he continue to waver? This was not what usually happened between consenting Inarrii. Sex was either a yes or not now arrangement unless one was permanently mated. Perhaps there was some sort of human cultural condition that made this kind of pairing unacceptable.
She stopped touching herself and stood. “My apologies if I misunderstood your desire. If this is against your custom, please understand that Inarrii don’t take offense at rejection. It won’t affect our working relationship.” She took a step toward her room, but it was also a step toward him.
Her movement seemed to trigger something within him and he reached out and gently caught her upper arm just as she would have passed by him. She sucked in a quick breath as she looked into his eyes and saw naked lust there. Her L’inar rippled at the touch of his cool skin against hers where he’d caught her uninjured arm. Pleasure shot through her. When he pulled her against him she let him, allowed him to crush her breasts against his chest. Ripples of pleasure became waves as he wrapped his arms around her, stroked her back. She lost herself to the sensation and murmured approval when his lips touched hers.
Images from his mind assailed her. She’d been right—he, like several of the humans involved in the Treaty, had a form of m’ittar, enough to make him doubly attractive. His lust dominated his thoughts. Deliciously dark, heavy with need, his mind kissed her m’ittar in a psychic echo of his lips against hers. His thick cock pressed against her pettan, seeking a way past the folds of material to reach her heat. She grabbed the muscular lobes of his ass and ground against him. It had been too long, and she wanted this, a wild coupling to heat the blood and leave her gasping for air, even if it wouldn’t leave her completely satisfied. She tilted her head away from his, leaned in to nip at his shoulder.
With a growl, he grabbed her around the waist, lifting her until her feet left the floor. She wrapped her legs around his hips in an attempt to grind closer to him. She bit him again, bringing a flush of heat to his shoulder. The slightly salty taste of his skin captured her until a ripple of sexual reaction in her damaged L’inar sent wild, uncontrolled sensations down her back. In a quick move he pulled her back to the couch and dropped down on it with her, pinning her beneath him. Surprise, and the heavy weight of his body, brought a gasp to her lips.
He palmed her breast, teased her taut nipple. The fact that he skipped over the L’inar that would have been the focus of an Inarrii male’s attention and pinched her tender nipple directly made her cry out. Pleasure roared in her ears with every heartbeat. She twisted under him, excited, confused, driven by the desire to rip off her pettan and mate, to urge him to pound his cock into her sinaa. His need appeared to match hers, and for an instant she wondered if her m’ittar was pulling his sensations into her mind and meshing them with her own, or forcing her desire into his mind. She didn’t care, couldn’t, as she realized he was working his hand into the band of the pettan and past the curve of her hips.
In his urgency to reach her, the material began to rip. A bubble of laughter caught in her throat, the insanity of the moment catching and amusing her as nothing had since she’d been injured. She shook her head and yanked at the tie to the clothing, pulling it open before he could ruin it. The closure gave away immediately, cooperating before she would have ripped it open herself. John’s strong fingers found her, cupped her and stroked the wet lips of her sinaa. His lips met hers and his tongue pushed into her mouth just as his fingers slid inside her.
His nimble fingers teased her, his thumb caressing the ridges of her innermost L’inar with each thrust of his fingers into her wet heat. Lines of sensation raced through her, her ridges peaking along her thighs, hips and waist. She groaned as he levered onto his elbow, freeing his other hand just enough to pinch her other nipple with a hard twist. The slight pain ignited her sensory ridges from her breast to her shoulder, pushing pleasure through her. Lightning fast, her L’inar stiffened under his caress, and when he pulled his mouth f
rom hers to lick up the side of her neck the connection whipped though her. She bucked, and he thrust his fingers faster into her. A moan shuddered through her—almost—she was almost—
With a growl he released her, pulled away and kneeled, only to pick her up as though she weighed nothing and turn her in his arms until her back was pressed against the cool skin of his chest. His breath caressed the L’inar on the back of her neck, rewarding her for the loss of the intense spiral she’d been on. With a wordless demand he pulled her down onto his cock from behind, his unusual width parting her, thrusting deep into her.
His cock pumped into her and he cupped her breasts, pulling them forward slightly. He stretched her nipples out until they ached and she leaned forward into the pull. Her L’inar ridged and flattened uncontrollably, the sensation flushing heat though her until she began to hope, began to spiral once again. The wildness of the act, the fast, impossible pace as he took her, left her gasping, was unlike anything she’d felt even with the finest Inarrii warrior. The tenderness in her breasts accented the glory in her sinaa in a way that almost made her wish for more. John ignored all the usual triggers for her arousal, yet she was torn apart with need and sensation, even elation. This just might work.
“John.” The word rasped out between her breaths, the first time she’d called him by his name, not his formal surname. “Harder.”
* * *
Drunk. He must be drunk, must have had a dozen beers rather than the few swallows he’d downed before she called him to her and bewitched him. Must have, because he couldn’t control what he was doing, the way he was taking her without even a little foreplay or a few sensitive words. He just wanted to fuck her like there was never going to be another day. There was only this one moment to mark her, to make her his in a way she’d never forget. So he must be drunk, or crazy. Because she couldn’t be his, should not even be in his arms right now.
