Rohn: Warriors of Sangrin

by Nancey Cummings

  With one hand splayed across the middle of her back, he lifted her skirt with the other.

  “I approve of this garment. You wore this when you arrived,” he said, voice thick with desire.

  “It’s my favorite,” she said, knowing that anything she wore at that moment would have been her favorite if it elicited such a strong reaction out of him.

  His fingers brushed the cotton of her panties, digging under the elastic band. “And these? Are they your favorite?”

  Her heart raced with an urgent need for his touch, so much so that even though they were one of her last pairs, she didn’t care. She’d buy more.

  “No. I hate them,” she said, practically in a whine. “Please, Rohn.”

  Fabric ripped and her entire body clenched with sweet anticipation. For only a moment, her ass had been exposed. Rohn knelt behind, pushing his face into her crevice and breathing in her scent.

  Worth it. She’d sacrifice a pair of panties every day if Rohn continued to eat her pussy for breakfast.

  Lunch and dinner, too. And as a midnight snack.

  In the month since her arrival, she’d had more sex than she thought humanly possible. Well, not humanly. Mahdfel-ly possible. Her body throbbed with a delicious ache, flesh sore and feeling him for hours after. Coupled with the still-tender bite on her shoulder, she had a constant reminder of his care and devotion. A thorough, tactile devotion that involved a lot of tongue and left her breathless.

  Rohn continued to lick and suck, the rub from the scruff of his beard pushing her closer to a climax. Sensation built and built. Vaguely she grew aware of Rohn stroking himself. She wanted to see. Needed to see.

  She flipped and perched on the edge of the table. Gripping his good horn, she mimicked him as he worked his length. The pressure inside built and she couldn’t take her eyes off his hands he stroked himself, giving a slight twist at the boysenberry-colored head of his gorgeous cock.

  Sensation rocketed through her as an empty bowl clattered to the floor. Fuck it. She’d buy new dishes, too. Rohn gave two more strokes before spilling into his hand.

  He collapsed back into a chair, pulling her into his lap. Her heart thrummed with happiness and her body sagged against the broad expanse of his chest. He reached for a napkin but Nakia snagged his cum-covered hand. Humming with pleasure, she licked his hand clean. He watched, transfixed, as her tongue lapped up every drop of his spend. Emboldened, she sucked his fingers as suggestively as possibly, demonstrating exactly what she wanted to do next time.

  Rohn shifted in the seat, suggesting that the next time wasn’t too far off, which was a shame as they were on a schedule.

  She moved to his lap and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. “Mmm,” she said, smacking her lips. “The only cream I want in my coffee.”

  His mouth, slick and glossy, fell open with what she assumed to be a mixture of shock and arousal. Unable to resist such a temptation, she leaned in and nibbled on his bottom lip. He responded with enthusiasm, deepening the kiss until all her senses focused on the musky and slightly salty taste of him.

  She pulled away with reluctance. “What time does the shuttle leave for the station?”

  “Thirty minutes.”

  Just enough time to put on a fresh pair of panties—the very last pair.

  The bell chimed, announcing a visitor at the door.

  “That will be Merrek.” Rohn lifted her from his lap with ease and adjusted her skirt to sit demurely.

  “I appreciate how you try to arrange me like a lady and not an oversexed newlywed on her honeymoon,” she said, crossing her legs at the ankle. “But why is Merrek here?”

  “He will escort you to the Sangrin Station today.”

  Nakia took a sip before responding. She had met Merrek once before and knew the male worked for Rohn but had no strong opinion of him. He wasn’t Rohn and that was the issue. “I thought we were going to spend the day together.”

  “Carrie has a demonstration of the prototype tomorrow. She requires my assistance.”

  “And you can’t get away at all?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  Nakia nodded and gave a pathetic smile, despite her disappointment. She knew it looked forced and she didn’t particularly care to fake enthusiasm for Rohn breaking their date for this Carrie woman. Not that shopping was a proper date, but they had planned to spend the day at the Sangrin Space Station and furnish their apartment.

  As much as she had liked the cozy feel of Rohn’s one-room apartment, she had to admit it just didn’t have enough space for them both. Item one: the bed, clearly made for one person. They cuddled together in the night, but she liked to sprawl and did not share the covers—ever. Item two: closet space. The old apartment had an appalling lack of storage space. Item three: no seating. The only place to sit was the bed when it was folded upright. As nice as the bed was, she wanted a chair to rest her butt.

  The new apartment had all the space and closets that Nakia could want, including a basic starter furniture set. It lacked warmth, color, and personality, which she intended to address with a good shopping trip.

  “Give me a minute to finish getting dressed.”

  New panties and her hair put back into order, she found Rohn reviewing an extensive list of instructions. He had poor Merrek pinned to the wall, nodding and repeating but unable to move due to the knife Rohn pointed at the man’s throat. Did Merrek deserve to be threatened with a knife? Probably not, but the Mahdfel got weird about stuff like that.

  “He sniffed,” Rohn said as she joined them, as if he could read her mind.

  “Oh, well, sniffing.” Totally reasonable.

  Rohn narrowed his eyes and growled once more at the younger male. “Yes, he sniffed and then smiled.”

  “And congratulated you,” Merrek said, not a trace of distress in his voice.

  Congratulated? In a sudden rush, Nakia realized he had detected the lingering scent of their breakfast nookie.

  “Good morning, Rohn’s mate,” he said with a smirk.

  Rohn pressed the point of the knife against the base of Merrek’s throat, catching the male’s attention. “Do not look at my mate. Do not speak to my mate. Do not touch my mate. Or I’ll shove you out the airlock.”

  “I must look at your mate to escort her and ensure her safety,” Merrek said, still unfazed.

  Rohn huffed, clearly upset at Merrek’s logic. “Look only enough to complete your mission successfully. No speaking and no touching.”

  “Or the airlock,” Merrek said.

  “Or the airlock,” Rohn agreed.

  “Before or after you slice my throat?” The younger male glanced down meaningfully. Rohn snarled but pulled back the blade.

  “May I speak to him?” Nakia didn’t care what Rohn answered; she’d talk to whoever she liked, and his macho display was getting long in the tooth.

  Rohn gritted his teeth and growled. “If you must. I’m sure you can find better conversation with the other females.”

  Maybe. The Mahdfel really seemed to enjoy talking about their weapons and their mates or the mates of other males. Guns and chicks, all the time. She’d rather go to the dentist, honestly.

  “If you feel that strongly, you can ditch work,” she said.

  Another growl. “Go. Do not be late,” he said.

  With those parting words, they were on the shuttle with a dozen other women, plus armed escorts. Nakia recognized a few faces from passing in the corridors and the cafeteria, but she didn’t know anyone well enough to strike up a conversation. That, however, did not deter Merrek. The male seemed at ease talking to anyone, chatting a constant stream of nothing of consequence. The other Mahdfel men glared and grumbled, but Merrek broke the ice, and soon the shuttle was abuzz with excited chatter.

  The station orbited the fifth and largest planet in the Sangrin system. Shaped like a spark plug, the multilevel station housed almost anything travelers could want: lodgings, the finest restaurants in the system, the skeeviest bars, spas, a
casino, theater, sports arena, mechanical and service repair, shopping, shopping, and more shopping. Nakia had never been off planet before—lots of humans never left Earth—but had visited a market at a spaceport once. The wide variety of aliens in all shapes, sizes, and colors fascinated her.

  The shuttle docked and soon she and Merrek walked on a wide concourse designed to mimic an open-air mall with potted plants, a fountain, and benches under an artificial sky.

  Merrek kept up his dialogue, easily holding up her side of the conversation for her. General noises that she listened seemed to appease him. Occasionally he’d pause, wait for her noise, then continue.

  Unsure of where to go, Nakia wandered with the crowd, trying not to stare. Humans were the minority. Most of the crowd were Sangrin, with the same purple complexion and horns as Rohn. Faces with other colors passed by: a cherry red coupled with tusks, a leafy green but no visible body hair, and a charcoal gray with horns and a third eye.

  The gray female lifted her chin and faced Nakia, proving that the sensation of feeling yourself being watched universal. And then the third eye in the center of her forehead winked.

  Nakia’s heart skipped a beat in excitement. For the first time, despite being surrounded by aliens, she finally felt that she was a long way from Earth and somewhere truly alien.

  Mostly she noticed that everyone in the crowd was small—human-sized. In fact, everything about the station was human-sized. For the past few weeks, Nakia had been living with everything just a bit too big and forgot how lovely it was to pick up a glass with one hand and have it actually fit. So lovely, in fact, that she bought the set of cut-glass dishes and matching drinking glasses in an enchanting lagoon blue color. They were beautiful, with a good weight to them.

  She wandered through a few stores that carried home goods but nothing sparked excitement. She purchased an appropriately-sized stool to use in the kitchen, rugs for the sterile floors, pillows and throws for every chair and lounging surface, but those were things she needed. The ship floors were cold in the morning and she liked to snuggle under blankets when watching a film or playing games. The blue and green blown glass lantern? She didn’t need that. The soothing table-top water fountain? Pass. The delicate multicolored glass vase that glowed like it was carved of precious stone when the light hit it? She couldn’t commit to a decorating scheme. Her heart wasn’t in it.

  She picked up the clothing she needed—panties she didn’t mind Rohn wrecking and fancier ones she’d totally mind—but couldn’t muster up enthusiasm for anything else. What was wrong with her? She loved clothes, and in the midst of a huge, interstellar shopping mall, she passed shop after shop filled with designs she could never imagine.

  She knew she was upset that Rohn had to work and passed her off with a stranger. It was ridiculous to be so disappointed—to allow a change of plans to prevent her from enjoying herself—but then she noticed that all Merrek talked about was Carrie. How she was so clever. How all the males admired her. How she knew the inner workings of all the single-pilot starships. How she freaking designed the starships. How she was beautiful and kind and always had time to talk to the males on the flight deck. Clearly, Merrek was a big fan.

  “Vox says that Carrie enjoys fried tubers cut into strips and coated in salt, but also dipped in a partially frozen dairy-based cream. He said it was a pregnancy craving. Do all females crave this?”

  She couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t know. Who exactly is this Carrie person?”

  “Vox’s mate,” Merrek said, as if she had any idea who Vox was.

  “That doesn’t tell me anything.” Like why Rohn canceled their plans to work with another man’s wife.

  “She and Rohn are building a new ship. One of a kind.” Merrek paused outside a shop selling scented candles. “Do you think Carrie would like one? Aromas can be relaxing, and new mothers should avoid stress—”

  “How should I know what that woman likes?” Nakia snapped.

  “How are your stress levels? They appear elevated from my vantage.”

  “I’m not stressed.” She wasn’t stressed and she certainly wasn’t worried about her new husband ditching her to spend the day playing mechanic with another woman. The Mahdfel didn’t cheat. Everyone knew that. Why would Rohn mark her as his own if he was going to sneak around with another woman? Why threaten Merrek within an inch of his life for even looking at her if he planned to do the same with another man’s wife?

  “Are you tired? Should we return to the shuttle?” Merrek hovered over her, as if unsure how to placate her distress.

  She rubbed at the bite mark on her shoulder. No, the Mahdfel didn’t cheat, but that knowledge gave her no comfort. “I think I’m hungry. How about lunch?”

  “Optimal. I know a fantastic place on a lower level.”

  The fantastic place was a fifteen-minute walk and elevator ride away. Nakia’s feet and knees hurt. The gravity of the station, which initially she did not notice, was a smidge lighter than the gravity on the ship. Her muscles strained, overworking with each step. Often when she felt this way, she simply needed to take the prosthesis off, clean it off, and refasten it. After lunch, she’d find a nice private spot and do just that.

  The lighting in the corridor grew dim and the storefronts shifted from bright and cheery merchants to dark glass and neon lights.

  “Where exactly are you taking me?”

  “This place isn’t much to look at, but it has the best noodle soup. Better than your mother’s,” Merrek said, smacking his lips.

  “That’s not hard. My momma ain’t a good cook.” Nakia learned her kitchen skills standing at the side of her grandmother and from television chefs. “But I like noodle soup.”

  A green neon cube hung over the entrance, flickering as the light struggled to stay illuminated. Charming. Merrek paused and handed his communicator to the solemn-faced male at the door, who tossed it in a box.

  “I thought you had to keep that on you at all times?”

  “No electronics allowed. A quaint custom, but I find I enjoy it,” he said.

  Someone behind Nakia knocked into her shoulder, pushing her. She stumbled forward, desperate not to fall, and crossed the threshold.

  Her leg vanished. She fell, landing hard on her hands and knees. Well, her leg didn’t vanish, but she couldn’t feel it anymore.

  “Rohn’s mate! Are you well?” He stood over her, shifting from foot to foot. He reached down to help her up but pulled back, as if remembering Rohn’s airlock threat. “Can you stand? You should stand.”

  “My leg is offline.” She shifted into a slightly more dignified position, on her butt with her legs sprawled uselessly before her. Stupid, useless piece of junk. “What the hell happened?”

  “Explain,” Merrek demanded, turning on the male. He towered over the man at the door, probably a bouncer, who shrank back.

  “No electronics,” the bouncer said, pointing to a faded red sign on the wall. “Embedded EMP disables anything that walks through the door.”

  Walks. How fucking funny.

  “Are you laughing at me?” She had never once in her life used her career as a lawyer a threat, but the man’s smirk made her consider it. “You can’t disable electronics without warning.”

  He shrugged. The fucker actually shrugged. “We got a permit. You going to order something? No loitering.”

  “I cannot believe…” God, she was tired of playing nice. Her patience snapped. “I will sue you and the owners and the station and whoever the fucking idiot was who issued that permit. What if I had an artificial heart? You would have killed me. I will sue you out of existence.”

  Merrek lifted Nakia easily. “Calm yourself. We will return to the Judgment.”

  She squirmed in his arms to face the bouncer at the door, not finished yet with her tirade. “I’m a lawyer! Don’t you smirk at me, you purple bastard. Everyone on Earth hates lawyers and they should—we’re parasites. We latch onto your mistakes and make you pay and drag you through the
courts and it takes years. Literal years. And your misery makes us stronger!” Merrek walked away but she continued. “You can’t stop us. If you cut one down, three more take our place! Law schools are viper pits and that makes us petty bastards. We kill each other trying to slither our way to the top—and I graduated top of my class! The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers. That’s Shakespeare. Shakespeare!”

  “You must stop,” Merrek murmured.

  She didn’t want to. Her anger felt good, cleansing. The disappointments of the day kept piling up, pinning her underneath the weight of it. She wanted to shout. Needed to. “He laughed at me,” she said.

  “He was indifferent to your plight. He did not laugh.”

  “Really?” She distinctly remembered laughter. And the smirk. And the fucking permit. If her leg worked, she’d go back there and kick his ass. He was human-sized, not much taller than her, and she took karate. Once. In college. “Fuck it, let’s go back and bash his knee with a bat. See how he likes not being able to walk.”

  Merrek huffed, clearly trying not to laugh. “Rohn was correct. You are a fighter.”

  “And you!” She turned her ire to him. “You knew! How could you bring me there?”

  “I forgot.” His gaze fell, looking at anything but her. At least he had the decency to flush and look ashamed.

  “I’m wearing a skirt. My leg is pretty fucking obvious.”

  “Um, yes.” He adjusted her slightly as he pressed a button on the elevator, causing the back of her skirt to ride up. His hand brushed the back of her thigh and his eyes went wide. “Do not tell your mate. Please. I did not mean to touch you. I enjoy breathing the atmosphere.”

  The panic in his voice soothed her anger. This mountain of an alien feared Rohn, and of her, and he had the look of a helpless bunny about him. He was just a kid, she realized, trying make his boss happy. She needed to chill and take charge of the situation. Someone had to be the adult.

  Deep breath.

  “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.” Some bigger than others, but whatever. Que será, será and all that jazz. “How old are you?”