Planet Athion: The Complete Series by Angel Lawson

19

Mercy

I knockbut don’t wait before entering the small room. I see the computer monitors against the wall and a small desk. A radar is tracking the storm above and blobs of red and yellow take up most of the screen. The colors cast a flicker of light across the space and Dimka is pressed against a shelf like he’s trying to vanish.

“Hey,” I say, unwilling to let him disappear.

He stares at the ground. “You followed me.”

“I did. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I glance over my shoulder toward the outer room. “You know, with everything that just went on out there.”

I could still feel them on my lips—taste them on my tongue. I wanted more but I wanted Dimka, too, and I had a strong sense that this was all or nothing with them.

I wait for a response, giving him time. We didn’t have forever but we had until the storm was over, and I was willing to give him that. Thankfully, he doesn’t make me wait long, finally speaking in a low voice. “I’m not accustomed to being around women. I grew up mostly around boys on the Southern Tip, and then later, when I was taken, it was all men in the Pits. It was violent and brutal. I survived by focusing on myself—on my next fight. I never expected to leave that place,” he looks up at me, “and I certainly never expected to meet someone like you.”

I take a tentative step forward. “I’m sorry you lived through that.”

“If you need protection, Mercy Ladd, I can do that for you. If you need someone to watch over you and keep you safe, I am the Athion you want, but other than that I don’t know if I can give you what the others can. I’m inexperienced and uncomfortable revealing vulnerabilities.”

By now I’ve moved only a few feet away and he’s allowed it. “I don’t want to pressure you, Dimka, but I also think you deserve affection, even if it’s quietly and privately.”

When he looks at me his eyes bore into mine, and there’s no doubt about the longing. He’s a male that’s repressed his needs for too long. I reach for his hand and lift it in mine, feeling the warmth of his skin. Kissing the back, his fingers, and wrist.

“You took care of me out there,” I say, “treating my wounds. Let me do the same for you.”

“I’m not injured,” he says, searching my face.

I touch his chest, hard with muscle. “I want to help you with the wounds we can’t see, Dimka, not the ones we can.”

I pull him down by his shirt and press my lips to his. At first, he doesn’t react and I panic, thinking I’ve crossed a line, but soon he responds, moving his lips against mine slowly, sweetly. It’s not the hard passion that came from Kai or the skilled moves that Alex brought from Earth, but it’s uniquely Dimka, gentleness masking something more volatile underneath.

I fear that energy out of reach but also crave it. I want to uncover it but only with time. Not today. Today I need him to trust me, see that I’m vulnerable, too.

I swallow my nerves and put myself out there.

“Have you ever seen a woman’s body?”

His fingers linger on my arm. “No.”

I reach for the hem of my tank and his eyes drop from my face, following my hands. I lift slowly, feeling exhilarated at his interest. I remove it, inch-by-inch, revealing my skin. I hear his breathing change—growing slightly increased and ragged—and my belly twists from excitement.

I pull the fabric over my head and stand before him, bare, skin pimple-ing from the cool air. I know my cheeks are red, I feel the heat but I wanted him to see me like this, vulnerable, too.

His eyes are glued to my chest and my nipples harden as he watches. I fight the urge to cover myself, instead reaching for his hand and lifting it, offering permission.

“We’re soft creatures,” I tell him.

“It’s why we have to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection from you, Dimka—or Alex or Kai.” His thumb runs over my nipple, sending a flare of desire through my body.

Stiff-backed, he explores my body, touching me so softly I feel ready to break. The pads of his fingers are rough, sending shockwaves across my skin, but I hold the building moan in my throat, allowing him access. His touch grazes my belly and I’m crawling out of my skin, unable to stand still.

“Dimka,” I whisper, reaching for him. I cling to his shirt to remain upright and just when I think he’ll never make a move he does, lifting me into his arms and crushing my lips with his.

His passion is consuming, his heart hammering in his chest, pounding against mine. I wrap my legs around his waist, wanting—needing—friction and he walks backwards until his calves hit the edge of the chair and he sits, bringing me with him.

I groan when I land in his lap, the hard, huge bulge between his legs pressing against the thin fabric of my leggings. His hands grip my hips, his mouth moves to my breasts. Whatever had been holding him back has crumbled.

I grind against him, having flashes of dry-humping my boyfriend junior year in high school. Unbelievably, this feels better and it’s not until his hands still my hips that I realize there’s a problem.

“I’m not like other men,” he says in that quiet voice. “Not down there.”

I remember what Rose told me and what Dr. Kane warned me about the men from the Southern Tip. No wonder he felt so good.

“You don’t have to show me—not now—but understand I’m not afraid of that or you.”

He stares at me with an expression that can only be described as adoration.

“This isn’t about sex for me, Dimka. It’s about so much more and I wanted to show you that you can trust me and that I trust you. And that with Kai and Alex, maybe we can have something unexpected.” I cup his cheeks. “Something I’d never have back home.”

“You’re a gift from Laird,” he whispers, brushing my hair out of my face.

I kiss him softly and move my hips once again, feeling the immense pressure between my legs. I groan into his mouth, craving friction, wondering what it feels like to have him inside of me—twice.

His mouth moves to my breasts; kissing, sucking, licking, and it brings me to the brink.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, hands on my inner thighs.

“Yes. Please. Yes.”

He doesn’t cross the barrier of clothing, he doesn’t need to. It’s been enough time since I’ve done this with a man, that my body is electric. His fingers rub across the ache between my legs and I hiss at his touch, pushing down on his hand, his cocks; panting like an animal.

“One day I’ll bury myself inside you, show you what a man from the Southern Tip has to offer,” he whispers in my ear. I almost ask him to show me now but my knees quake and his fingers tweak my nipples. I writhe against him, overcome—overwhelmed with sensation. His promise just sends me to the edge.

He watches me like a gift from his god as I shatter against his body, feeling the rush of release. His hips jut forward and I reach between us, feeling if not seeing the majesticness of his girth and length.

Twice.

“It’s…” he swallows, “I’m very sensitive.” His breath is already labored and I guide my hand over the hard expanse. “Oh, Mercy…you’re beautiful. You’re…” His eyes hold mine, glazed over with lust and he groans deep within his chest. His head drops to my shoulder before he grunts, thrusting against me, until he releases everything.

It’s only after, when I’m curled against Dimka’s chest, that I wonder if I’ve gone too far—we only have the guarantee of this one night—because once we go back to our normal lives, they’re not here to love me, they’re here to guard me, and I have a mission to complete.

“Please tell me I didn’t cross any lines,” he says, lifting my chin so he can see me.

“No. Not at all, in fact, I’m already thinking of the next time, when we can go further.”

He exhales, looking calmer and more relaxed than I’ve seen him. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

He captures my lips and kisses me. “I will make a promise to you. This won’t be our only time together and next time I’ll make you beg for mercy.”