Flinging his hair back, he pumped in and out of her, caressing her clit above his pounding cock, his eyes glazing over with bliss.
Sheba cried out, jerked, and with a swirling of her hips and an intense rippling of her pussy, she lost it as euphoria tore through her.
She knifed up, her groin surging to meet his, her thighs tight around his waist, pulling his ass in, mouth on his as he pumped all had into her.
‘Foookkk,’ Idan groaned as he too exploded into ecstasy, throwing his head back so hard his hair flew free, whipping everywhere.
His chest heaving, his sigils pulsing as ropes of heat shot into her vagina.
‘Sece sarauniyar salkia. You are my everything, my queen.’
They came down in a synchronized rhythm, tethered together in the wreckage of their lovemaking.
‘Uso’m, what does it mean?’ he later rasped into her ear when his heart calmed down long enough for him to speak.
She twisted to face him, their lips brushing as she cupped his face with both hands.
‘It meansmy honeyin Kwavi, which is a mash-up of so many Earth languages, from Swahili to Igbo to even Scottish and Irish. We Dunians are an amalgamation of diverse cultures from the old planet. We are of mixed blood, thus my dark curls and eyes, and so too our common language. Do you like that I used it on you?’
‘Indeed, my love, I can’t argue with it. After all, I am too sweet to handle.’
Over the following days, Idan settled into her apartment.
He inhabited her rooms not as a guest but as her lover; his presence converting her solitary retreat into a shared stronghold.
Sheba discovered a quiet thrill in their mundane rituals.
Mornings found them shoulder to shoulder at the vanity, the whir of electric toothbrushes creating a clashing harmony as they vied for the mirror.
As he shaved, she massaged lotion into her skin, pausing to snag a lingering kiss, laughing as he covered her in shaving cream.
These small beats of normalcy were the lifelines she held onto, the proof she was no longer navigating the world alone.
Meantime, she applied for a series of new job roles, and while waiting for responses, she took Idan on tours of Eden II’s hidden corners.
They explored the Old Quarter’s marketplaces and ancient Paladian temples, as well as the beautiful nature parks under the dome.
They even took a maglev trip to the edge of the city, where the translucent barrier let one see deep into the vast desert of the Eden Maria.
One evening, golden hour arrived with a dense, honeyed brilliance, the sunset staining the sky in streaks of bruised plum and molten copper.
Outside the apartment, the Commons vibrated with the rhythm of the workday’s end.
The distant clatter of the elevated rail merged with the melodic calls of street vendors and the engine-drone of skimmers descending into their docking cradles.
Long, amber rays lanced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes and casting elongated shadows across the kitchen’s marble island.
It was a time of transition, where the city’s frantic energy began to yield to the sultry, music-soaked promise of the night.
Idan stood outside on the terrace, leaning against the rail as he scanned the streets below and sipped a glass of whiskey on the rocks.
His back was to the window, his muscled silhouette outlined by the vibrant sunset.
Inside, the kitchen was redolent with the rich aroma of a balsamic glaze Sheba was reducing on the stove.
She was multitasking, pivoting between the bubbling pot and her comm tab, her mind racing through the next day’s job interviews she had lined up.
She must have turned the heat too high because the pasta saucepan bubbled over, and she lunged for it.
