by Greg Curtis
“Scared? Of me?” The thought surprised and saddened him, and for a brief moment stopped his passion in its tracks. He didn’t want anybody to be afraid of him. But Cyrea wouldn’t allow that, and used her own body to fire his back into life. Then he remembered some more of the previous day, fighting like a lunatic, running like a wild man, covered in blood. They must have thought him insane, and he seemed to recall having flung a few aside more than just roughly. He remembered their bodies bouncing off walls.
“Ohh Lord. Is anyone hurt?” She shook her head, smiling for the first time.
“Not seriously, and it's not your fault. No-one blames you. They blame Dr. Roze, and he will be tried for his crime this morning. They just fear you. They don’t know how you’ll react, and they’re frightened.” He looked into her eyes and saw the truth, and something much worse. Cold fingers clutched at his heart.
“Are you afraid of me?” He suddenly had to ask, understanding that it would be his worst nightmare if she was.
“Maybe a little, Or I was.” She whispered it at him, telling him the truth even though it hurt him. He looked at her, terrified, waiting to hear the full horror, even though he didn’t want to. He had to know.
“You were so wild, like nothing I’ve ever even imagined, and so very very deadly. If the machines had been Leinians you would have killed hundreds last night. No one could have stood against you. I’ve seen the recording. So have all of my people, and they are frightened. Terrified would be more truthful. To know that none of us, maybe even all of us together, could stand against you in a ring.” He wanted to hold her tight, wanted desperately to tell her that he would never hurt her, that he loved her, but she still wouldn’t let him.
“You are a master.” Every word was emphasized, as if she had just discovered it. No doubt she had. But then he also knew it was all wrong. He hadn’t gotten out of there by training and skill. It was all pure adrenaline and luck. He tried to deny it, but she wouldn’t let him.
“Your every punch, every kick, every move was simply lethal. With the power you used each punch, each kick would have crushed bone and tissue. It shattered metal. The strikes were faster than those of our finest martial artists, and you used moves we’ve never seen before. Moves we’d have to call illegal.” For a brief moment he almost smiled as he remembered some of them. Illegal, probably, crazy, definitely, but suicidal was a better description. Only luck and incredible desperation had allowed him to pull them off. Yet he had, and that impressed even him. Fortune had favoured him beyond even the bold.
“You’re also unbelievably tough. You took some terrible injuries, and yet with each one, you just hit back harder and faster. But most frightening of all, every attack was directed to do the most terrible damage. So many different killing blows. And you never missed.” She whispered it at him, almost as though what he had done was somehow wrong, and yet, at that moment he almost agreed with her. He had done what he had done out of need, and he had no regrets, but he could also see that it was wrong for anyone to have such deadly ability. There should be no need, no want for such a thing.
“You told me all about your training but I never truly believed, for which I'm sorry. I never understood that anyone could fight like that.” She spoke the absolute truth, and it wounded him. But Cyrea wouldn’t let him suffer too much. She wouldn’t even let him speak.
“But I also know you’d never deliberately hurt anyone, unless you were really pushed into it as that bastard did to you. He did some terrible things to you. More than you even know, yet. Anything to make you even more frightened or angry. To stop you being able to reason. Things which he will pay for.” There was anger in her voice, barely contained, and yet David himself could feel nothing for his tormentor. Perhaps he was still too close to it, still in shock. Or perhaps in her arms it was simply unimportant.
“You are a very gentle and caring man which is why I love you. I would never do something like that to you. Nor will my people. I promise that I won’t hurt you. That I will never betray you. You are my mate and I love you.” She kissed him again, passionately. He kissed her back, understanding nothing, but at that point not really caring. He remembered the pain he had felt at her suffering, the fear he had had at her loss, and knew that even while he might not understand everything, he was a lucky man to be with her then. And he wanted to be with her, immediately.
“I also know that if you’d suffer all that and still come hunting for me, you are my greatest defender.” It was becoming difficult to talk by then as he had too much else he needed to concentrate on, but he knew she understood. He had gone berserk for her, and he was glad she knew that. Infinitely glad.
“I can speak again?” Which wasn’t actually correct. He was fast running out of the ability to do anything but respond to her as a man. But his jaw seemed to be working.
“We had you on the surgery table for nearly twelve hours.” She was gasping it out by then, in between kissing him and breathing. “And that’s the longest surgery we’ve done since we’ve been here. A whole team working solidly.”
“How bad?” Though he really didn’t care. He felt good enough to do what he needed to do. And even if he wasn’t he was still going to. But he was curious.
“Fifteen broken bones, three ribs, four finger bones, two wrist bones, your pelvis, a couple of ankle bones, your jaw, nose and shoulder. Fractures to both femurs, stress fractures in your back, and you left seven teeth on the gym floor, and another half dozen around the rest of the ship. We couldn't find one of them by the way, so the doctors replaced it with a cloned tooth.”
“They were gluing for hours, three teams of doctors. Both your kidneys were pasted, and the micro-surgeons had to stitch them back together bit by bit, your spleen had seen better days, one lung was punctured, both eyes were filled with burst blood vessels, you had a major skull fracture where your ear had been, they had to give you a new cloned ear and cheek as well, you lost nearly two litres of blood, and the bone bruises will still take weeks to come out. If you had escaped, you would have died.” Which about matched his own recollections. He’d known it was bad, even if he hadn’t admitted it.
“But it’s all fixed now, everything. And we took out the old bullets, repaired the arthritis and muscle tears, and gave your body a total cleanse. When you’re fully recovered in a few days, you should be in better shape than before. Much better. It was the least we could do considering.”
“You finally got the bullets, huh!” Cyrea smiled like the Cheshire cat. She’d tried for weeks to get him to come in and have his leg repaired, and he’d resisted firmly, as much lately out of stubborn pride as a sense of duty. But in the end she had won. He just hoped they’d left the scar, so at least it would look like they were still there. Otherwise it was going to be difficult to explain their absence.
He filed her words away for later, but couldn’t really concentrate on them. He was alive, and in good enough shape that he would survive. More importantly Cyrea still loved him. That was enough, when he had so much more urgent work to do. Instead he let his mouth wander down her body, finding her breasts, and kissed her some more, a lot more. In response she mewled, unable to contain herself, and let his wrists go so she could get closer. Immediately his hands sprang to her side, holding her tight, so he could kiss her more, much more. And then they explored her as they both wanted, playing with her, teasing her, preparing her.
Their desires became much more urgent. He had come so close to losing her, and now here she was in his arms, warm and loving. He had to have her, immediately, to know she was safe, that she was real. To know that she was still his.
He flung the sheets off, too hot and wanting nothing to get tangled between them as they usually did. Besides they just prevented him from seeing what he wanted to see. Cyrea gasped and for a second looked worried, but then she forgot it and returned to their joy. When he asked she just smiled and told him ‘later’. It could wait. Everything could wait.
Finally, unable to contain herself
her feet unlooped around his and he took the opportunity to close his legs, so he could roll them over, on to her back. She yielded immediately to him, letting him do whatever he wanted, not because she had to but because she wanted to. He knew she'd pinned him at the beginning, because he was confused and possibly dangerous. But that threat was gone. And Cyrea knew that too.
“I love you.” He whispered it softly in each of her ears, as he took her, and she cried with startled pleasure and happiness. It was the first time he had admitted it to her, and it was long overdue. He only regretted that it had taken him so long to say something so simple. Her soft cry was a sound he loved to hear and he promised himself he would tell her that a lot more, if only to hear it a lot more.
“Good. I’m going to hold you to that. And I love you too.” Her words were coming out in fits and starts as she had to breathe in more and more hurried gasps, but they both enjoyed them.
The time for words had passed. Neither had the breath or the intellect remaining, and instead they both concentrated on reaching paradise. For some reason it was slower to arrive than usual, as they found themselves working longer and harder to get there. But it was still always in sight, and they were never going to give up until they reached it. When they finally arrived they discovered it had been well worth the wait.
It was as though a bomb had gone off somewhere inside them both. The room went incandescent for David, as without warning he climaxed, and he felt his seed being deposited deep within her in waves of savage delight. With each frenzied surge he cried out wildly, unable to hold back. Cyrea too was ecstatic, crying her joy directly into his flesh as she crushed him in a rigid bear hug that sucked the breath out of him. She wasn’t the only one crying he realised. And it didn’t stop. The orgasm just continued like some insane fairground ride, while their screams became ever louder and more frenzied. For a while they both wondered if they were going to die of too much pleasure.
After, it was as though he had been run over by a steam roller, but a very wonderful one. He couldn’t move, he didn’t have the strength as he lay on top of her and was barely able to even support a fraction of his weight. He ached all over, a mix of recovering injuries and exhaustion, tears ran freely down his cheeks for no reason, and he had a terrible need to collapse, which he somehow resisted. He had already slept enough. Besides he wanted to be with Cyrea.
“Oh my God. What was that?” He could barely find enough breath to stagger the words out one by one, but he had to ask. Not because he thought she knew, but because he wanted to know she had felt it too.
“I don’t know. But it was fantastic.” Cyrea was in no better shape than him and was still trying to take in enough air to breathe. They were both sweating as though they had sprinted a marathon, while their hearts were beating triple time in their ears. They kissed, but hurriedly, as they had to breathe. Then they had to kiss again. After a few minutes of recovery, they suddenly found that they had to laugh as well. It was the relief of being alive and together, the love and the orgasm all rolled into one incredible high, and they couldn’t stop.
Finally David made to roll off her, but Cyrea refused him point blank. It might be over for the moment, but they were still one and there was no way she was going to let him separate. Not this year, maybe never. Instead they just lay there, recovering, laughing and celebrating. In a while, perhaps a long while, they would make for the shower and start asking the questions they each needed answers to, but for the moment they just needed to be together.
In time he began to look around him, wondering where he was, what had happened and, when he thought of it, where breakfast might be. It was a medium sized room, with another one attached through an open metal arch. He knew he was somewhere on the ship, but only because of the metal walls. Everything else about it was wrong.
The walls were painted a bright yellow orange, and ornaments and pictures hung everywhere. One of the walls was in the process of being painted with a panorama of what he assumed was Cyrea’s home complete with strange sheep and a stranger looking house. It was a bright cheery place, within the cold steel ship, and he slowly realised it was a cabin. Cyrea’s cabin. Somewhere between the previous night, and the morning, she’d taken him from the sick bay to her own quarters, no doubt knowing exactly how she was going to wake him.
“These are your quarters?” She smiled and nodded.
“I couldn’t leave you in that cold sick bay. I wanted you here, safe and warm. I wanted you with me.”
There was something deeply touching about that, and it was hard not to feel a twinge of emotion. In her shoes he wondered if he would have taken the same risk. Bringing home your lover who you’ve just found out is more dangerous than a den full of rattle snakes, and probably psychotic from what had been done to him. The smart thing to do would have been to let him wake naturally in the sick bay, restrained, and then talk him through the bad parts in safety.
Yet it went beyond that he knew. Not only was she willing to trust him when she had every reason not to. Not only was she willing to put her own safety on the line. She had also brought him to her home, letting him see her place and know who she was. She’d placed her heart on the line too. Immediately he understood that he melted inside.
He told her it was a lovely cabin and asked to be shown her family, whose pictures graced the walls. It was more than just politeness, he wanted to see. He wanted to know everything about her.
As he made to get up she held him to her, and desperately tried to get the sheets back to cover them. It took him about half a second to understand, and then he grabbed them for her. They were being spied on again. Naturally. It would have been the only way they would ever have permitted her to bring him back to her quarters. That way, if he attacked her and maybe gone on a rampage, they would have been ready. That was why she had reacted when he flung the sheets off them, allowing the Leinians to spy on them making love again. But in the end she had given in to their needs. No matter how embarrassing it was she needed to be loved by him, more than she needed her privacy. And she’d never given it another thought.
“Hold me.” Which was a silly thing to say when she was still wrapped right around him like a fur coat, but she obediently clutched him even more securely. He rose to his knees still carrying her, discovering fresh pain in so many parts of his body, and wrapped the sheet right around them both until they looked like a two headed mummy. Then he stood up and made her show him the device. At least it wasn’t hidden he later decided, though he would still never have recognized it. But the globe sitting on the desk beside the bed was apparently it, and he took great pleasure in turning it into a pretzel, after making sure they knew he wasn’t going to do anything crazy. He covered its remains with the sheet.
When no-one came charging through the door, he guessed he’d passed the test.
Next he spent a good long while examining her apartment, while they were still intimately entwined. Once he was standing, Cyrea was a small weight on his hips and arms, and a pure pleasure. It was also he realized one of the best ways he’d ever imagined to learn about her world. It was sexy and thrilling yet also close and loving, and very warm. And all the time they were both really waiting for only one thing.
It was a suite as he found out, a single bedroom and small lounge, with a bathroom to one side. Not very big, but then this was a space ship he reminded himself. Home to more than a thousand people. It was a miracle it was any larger than a closet. The walls were the cold steel of the rest of the ship, but there they had been painted with a mellow yellow in most of the hallways. They'd been repainted in Cyrea’s cabin before being covered with decorations and a mural. Throw rugs littered the floor adding colour and warmth, while an ornate carved wooden door frame had been installed between the lounge and the bedroom.
Like her bedroom the main wall of the lounge had a three quarters completed mural painted on it. An intricate forest scene, complete with a waterfall that seemed to plummet for miles. Even incomplete, the painting had a quali
ty to it of reality. Not only did it seem real, almost like a window into a fantastic reality, but it also tended to draw the viewer in, making him want to stay and browse. To try and identify the millions of little features, maybe even to look for the animals that must surely live in such a wonderland. Beside the wall was an easel exactly like any earthly one, complete with brushes and paints, and he realized Cyrea was painting it herself. She was the artist. He should have expected that.
Cyrea had told him of her people’s passion for the arts. After all with most of the drudgery of their society gone, and not needing people to sweep roads or pack boxes or spend time in banks, the people had plenty of time on their hands, and artistic pursuits were almost a way of life. What he hadn’t expected was that she was so good. Perhaps, if it wasn’t a breach of security, she could start doing some more work in his home. After all, there was only so much white and polished timber a man could take.
