Delphie
Good lord, if this is how he performs his first time, what is he going to be like with a little more experience? He’s so sweet in his doggedness to improve. He’s pretty humble for an arrogant asshole. His willingness to admit when he doesn’t know something just underlines that he’s only arrogant about things that are true. It’s rare to meet a man with that level of self-awareness.
“How much time do you need before I can be inside you again?” he asks, reminding me that he still has a lot to learn, too.
I roll onto my side to face him, and he tucks an arm around my waist and tugs me flush against him. Is his dick hardagain? Does he even have a refractory period? “I don’t know. Not too much, physically. But mentally, it’s not like I can just hop back into it where we left off, you know?”
He props up on his elbow, frowning. “Why not?”
I don’t know the answer immediately. I’m totally out of my depth, acting like an expert on human sexuality. I only know myself, and my brain is a little scrambled from our earlier escapades. I still can’t believe I sucked his dick while he was negotiating with the High Priest.
He’s still waiting for my reply, so I try and put one together. “I guess I need to cycle back through those earlier ‘lessons’ to have the desire again. It’s not like the feelings disappear. Theybuild on each other. But every time is also something new. It requires new trust, consent, and connection to be good.”
He considers this, and even though I can feel his dick jumping against my thigh, the only move he makes is stroking my back in lazy, delicious slides. “More kisses?” he finally says. “Tasting each other everywhere? Then I can be inside you again?” He’s studying my face for answers.
I realize where I’ve gone wrong. “It doesn’t have to be the same every time. It doesn’t even have to be sexual. Building trust can be like what you’re doing now, rubbing my back. It’s a caring gesture that shows you’re interested in my experience. Asking and giving can be anything, like feeding each other or washing each other in the shower. Connection can be talking, laughing together. Sharing an experience. I know both of us are eager for the physical parts, but I’m just as eager for the other stuff. The partnership.”
“I understand.” He dips forward, capturing my mouth as his fingers delicately stroke my throat. It’s so tender, I can tell it’s not a transaction. He’s not checking a box so he can get something else. A surprising well of emotion rises in me at the realization that hegetsit. This is a collaboration. A true partnership.
It’s something I’ve never had and always wanted. I envied my brothers’ easy, natural connection. The unmistakable bond my parents shared. I was close with my mom and then grandma, but that wasn’t a relationship of equals. And my past boyfriends—both of them—were on the casual side. All brunch and walks by the river, none of the hard, messy stuff. I never even told them about my parents.
“My parents died when I was nine,” I say, suddenly wanting Nik to know everything. “Within weeks of each other, although we didn’t know it because my mother was listed as missing inaction for another year. We found out later she was executed while being held as a POW.”
He frowns at the unfamiliar term. “Prisoner of war,” I explain. “They were both Army officers, but my dad died of pancreatic cancer while she was missing. It was only a month from diagnosis to when he died, so Mom never even knew he had it. When I was little, I used to wonder if she would have deferred her deployment if she’d learned he was sick. But now I think she would have gone anyway. She always said the world was too big to ignore.”
“Your mother sounds very wise.” He brushes a kiss on my forehead. “I should have known you were the daughter of warriors.”
“The sister of warriors, too,” I say, smiling through a brief downpour of tears. “My brothers like to joke that I was their first drill sergeant. I put them through the wringer when we were kids.”
“You...squeezedthem?” Nik noses into my neck, nibbling at my sore spot. It feels good and a little tender at the same time, kind of like my heart.
“Put them through the wringer means I made life hard for them. I bossed them around even though I was younger and smaller.”
“Ah, that must be why you get along with Lyro. He squeezed us often.” There’s a hint of a smile in his voice. He hands me the battered stuffed animal he gave me earlier. “This was his. It never left his side when he was small.”
I turn it over in my hands, looking at the grubby fur and patchwork leather with new eyes. It’s hard to imagine Lyro loving anything, but he loved this little thing, once. “Why do you have it now?”
“My father said Lyro was getting too old for playthings. That he needed to harden up. I still had my milk teeth, but even atthat age, I knew it meant he had terrible plans for it. So I took it from Lyro. Held it above his head and laughed as he jumped to get it back. He was so small that his claws were still soft.”
“Your dad let you keep it?”
“Not exactly.” He reaches out to trace the clumsy repairs. “When my father was near, I’d use it to practice throwing my knives. It was only because it make Lyro cry that my father didn’t take it from me. When he wasn’t around, I’d re-stuff it with tili fluff and patch it up, then leave it around where Lyro could find it. He thought I was being careless and didn’t notice that he’d steal off with it every night and return it in the morning.”
I feel my eyes prickle, imagining the two of them caught in this terrible dance, Nik’s small fingers trying to fix the damage he knew he was causing, Lyro sneaking around in fear of being caught stealing his comfort object. I want to hug them both. Instead I pet the straggly fur. “You were a good brother to him, Nik.”
“An imperfect guardian, considering I destroyed his precious braxa every day. He hated me for it. Probably still does.”
“But you kept it for him.”
Nik reaches to pet it, too, our hands brushing. “He might want it someday, if he has a greenling.”
My stomach clenches. That’s a conversation we probably need to have, too. Might as well get it out in the open. “Is that something you want? Children?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. I already know what it is. Of course he wants children to carry on his legacy. Who’s going to rule this shitty place when he’s gone?
I shouldn’t think such rude things about the planet I’m going to be living on. I really need to figure out what’s good about it so I can stop viewing it that way. There have to be things to love about Usuri.
Nik is slow to respond. When he finally does, he envelops my hand with his. “I do not wish to disappoint you, but I must answer truthfully. I did not enjoy my youth, and I never wanted greenlings of my own. Now that I am Jara... Usuri is no place to raise an infant. If this is something you desire—”
“No, I don’t either,” I quickly interrupt. My childhood wasn’t as terrible as his, but I spent more time missing my parents than I spent with them. Anytime I made friends, we moved away soon after. I hated how no place felt truly like home. Hated how my brothers ended up getting into fights in every neighborhood because they were the new kids. Children need stability and safety, and I can’t guarantee that for them, especially now. “When I was with the Xaszians, I asked them for permanent birth control. It’s reversible, but I can’t have children unless I undergo another procedure, and I don’t intend to.”
