Taken to Lemora by Elizabeth Stephens
19
Raingar
“Say it,” I grunt, pounding into her. I’m far too large, but she can take it. She won’t break, least of all on my account.
I hold her hips in my hands and pound into her from behind. Since discovering this unholy position, I haven’t let her out of it. She may be the pleasure female, but she likes relinquishing control as much as I like taking it. She’s my female now.
“I’m yours…” she says breathily, choking on my every stroke.
“My what?”
“Your…Xiveri!” She releases a high, breathy scream before tumbling forward. I chase her there, my shorter spur now lodged in her puckered and convulsing rear entrance while my longer spur squeezes inside of her along with my erection. I empty everything I have into her body. Everything.
We collapse beside one another on the bed, but Essmira’s only docile for a few breaths. Gathering the rest, she loops her leg over my hips and lowers herself down, throwing her head back. She milks me for pleasure, her body seizing up on top of mine. I catch her when she falls down before I empty into her a fourth time. Again and again and again until a furious knocking rouses us from our lust and forces me to the door.
“Raingar!” Gorman shouts on the other side of it. “Essmira! The Asgid have arrived! The festivities are beginning! You are missing them!”
I fling the door open wide and Gorman’s eyes flood with horror. His fins spasm viscerally — the one on the right side having been surgically reattached thanks to new grafting technology we managed to procure from a Hypha settlement — as he drinks in the sight of my grey, cum-stained skin.
“We’ll be a moment!” I shout, a shit-eating grin splitting my face.
Gorman’s horrified expression concentrates on my face, then. He blinks a dozen times in rapid succession. I smile big now at everyone, so they can see all my teeth. It sends younglings running from me in terror. They don’t know who I am now. But I can’t stop.
“Why are you grinning like that!” Gorman shouts. “You look deranged!”
“Rutting! I like rutting. Essmira’s exceedingly proficient.”
“Raingar!” Essmira’s voice gets louder as she comes around the corner wearing a beautiful robe. A thick robe. If Gorman ever sees her bare, as he’s like to one of these solars given how often he has to rouse us for our duties, a missing fin will have been the least of his life’s worries. Two missing eyes will be a lot harder to replace.
She comes and takes my arm, placing herself between Gorman and me. “We’ll be down in just a moment. In the meantime, you can give our guests a tour of the keep and prepare the pad pad chariots to take the Asgid down to the Dark Flats. I made sure that, by solarbreak everything was already well on its way to being set up. There should already be helpers there with lobba and other refreshments to greet our guests. Give the musicians notice that they should be playing when the first chariot arrives.”
Gorman just stares at her and then at me, looking like he’s about to faint.
“You heard the female!” I bark.
Gorman seems more comfortable with that tone of voice from me because he straightens and nods and his mouth finally snaps shut. He goes to say something else, but I slam the door between us, rip the robe off of my female, slam her against the door and with one gentle thrust, I’m back inside.
And then I rut her ruthlessly three more times.
The festivities have already started by the time we ride down to the Dark Flats. I complain the entire time, asking my miriga repeatedly when we can go home. “Perhaps we can steal away during the party,” she says and I agree, kissing her on the side of the temple, even though I know there’s no chance of that. Not with the surprise I have planned.
Still, I like to hear that she’s just as needy as I am.
We dismount and she weaves through the crowd, speaking to everyone. By the time she’s finished making her rounds, the sky is dark and the Asgid are oohing and awing over the kintarr sand fields and the light show that they put on for us, sipping on lobba and gobbling down food and fares from their own home world — a world that was destroyed many rotations ago, but whose cultures and customs live on through its descendants and will never die because of it.
My torturously beautiful miriga turns to me and places her hands on my chest. “So, what do you think about stealing away now?”
She lifts an eyebrow, that delicate fur, and I sigh, “I can’t believe you’re mine.” I touch her small ear and follow the red curl down until it meets the brown. She is so beautiful. Every part of her. Especially when she opens her mouth and the little bumps lining the top of her tongue shine.
I lean down and kiss her and, when my chest constricts, I lean down and kiss her again. Then once more, even more roughly. Now that I’m polished, she likes it when I’m rough. My hands harden around her arms and my cock hardens in my trousers. I keep telling her she needs to make me an armored crotch so that my cock can stop fighting the material, but so far she hasn’t done it, the insufferable wench.
“Raingar,” she mewls dangerously and her mouth shines brighter in a way I know she has no control of, but that embarrasses her every time. She bites her bottom lip, but I free it. I like the color. All her colors.
“Pagh,” I groan. “I can’t believe I will have to deny the most beautiful female in the galaxies.”
“Deny!” She screeches.
“Shh!” I laugh anyway, especially as a group of drunk Asgid on course for us veer down to the next platform quickly. “We’ll go home later…” In a long while, I’m sure. “For now, there’s a delegation I want you to meet.”
“A delegation? But I thought I controlled the guest list?” She challenges, pouting adorably.
Who knew that my little pleasure female would turn out to be such a control freak. “You do, miriga,” I say in my most placating tone — a tone I didn’t even know I possessed until now.
“But you invited guests without notifying me.”
“Just a little mistake, that’s all.”
“I don’t like it.”
I bark out a wild laugh and sling one arm over her shoulders. I take her closest hand. I bring it to my lips as I steer her down, away from the Asgid, away from the platforms where the party is at its thickest, to those where things are a little more subdued.
Asgid, Rekkaru, Lemoran, hybrids and Hypha all stretch out, lounging on the beds, carpets and poufs Essmira organized. They smoke from large water pipes and stuff themselves silly. But I’m not looking for these creatures. I’m looking for just two.
I guide Essmira down two levels to a platform shrouded in shadows. Close to the Dark Flats, it’s illuminated primarily by their light, which I know is the only reason Essmira hasn’t panicked yet. But as soon as we step onto the platform and the two figures rise, one much, much larger than the other, and Essmira wades into the light of the torches and sees them, she freezes.
I chuckle and gesture between my female and the off-worlders. “Essmira, this is the Raku and Rakukanna of Voraxia, and their kit, the Rakuka of Voraxia. Raku, Rakukanna, this is Essmira, my mate and miriga to our clan.”
The tall, blue-skinned Voraxian male steps forward and surprises me when he offers Essmira the Lemoran greeting. He catches the air and brings it to his heart. “It is an honor to meet you,” he says and I know no greater honor than having my mate addressed by this male. Not like this. Not on the planes of my home beneath a brilliant sunset made of exploding kintarr sands while, in his other arm, there lies a sleeping kit.
A hybrid with her mother’s red skin and her father’s straight black hair, her tail hangs limply over the cradle of his forearm as she coos softly in her sleep. She is so little. Such a perfect little thing. My hold on Essmira’s shoulder slides down to her low back as she wavers, likely in shock.
“I…I…” she stammers in Voraxian and I laugh. It’s one of the few times I’ve seen her anything less than eloquent. “I mean…forgive me. I am honored to meet you Raku, Rakukanna, Rakuka,” she says, inclining her head at the little one as she offers them the Lemoran greeting in return.
It is the Rakukanna however, who steps forward and abandons all sense of formality. She pulls my female roughly away from me and throws her arms around my female’s neck. She is just shorter than Essmira and would look entirely Drakesh were it not for her facial features and the soft brown curls growing out of her head, so much looser and lighter than Essmira’s.
She says something against Essmira’s neck that sounds like, “Sanke dee zstaares,” before she repeats in Voraxian, “I can’t believe I’m meeting you.”
Slowly, so slowly, Essmira lifts her arms — they’re shaking — and she hugs the female back, gripping her tighter and tighter until it looks like we might need Niahhorru machinery in order to pry the females apart.
In Voraxian, Essmira replies, “It is my honor, Rakukanna…”
“Nox, nox. None of that, now. It’s Miari and you’re Essmira and for all that it matters, we’re sisters.”
“Sisters?”
“Sisters, hexa. There were six of us hybrids born at the same time, but we were scattered to the stars. I never thought…” Her voice hitches and she rubs at her face, smearing the paint she wears around her eyes. She looks nothing like a Rakukanna should, and yet the male at her side could not look more proud. I feel my own chest puff out in response as he meets my gaze and gives me a gentle nod.
You know, I think I might actually come to tolerate this male.
The Rakukanna — Miari — sniffs again, this time more deeply, and loops her arm through Essmira’s. I don’t mind as she guides my female away from me and they take a seat on one of the low poofs. I just stand behind her and wait, as I will wait for her for the rest of my life — impatiently, perhaps, but I’ll do it.
“I never thought I’d find them. And then we met Ashmara but she…” She shakes her head.
Essmira snorts lightly and it soothes my soul. I ease into my stance, letting my muscles melt down my bones. “She doesn’t much count. Ashmara is Eshmiri, through blood and soul.”
“Exactly. But aside from myself and Darro, we haven’t managed to find any of the missing until you.”
“Darro?” Essmira asks.
“I think, mee-lawv,” Raku says, interrupting and calling her by a moniker I’ve never heard before, but that sounds like an entirely different language — perhaps, human?
He steps up behind her and touches her hair while Essmira looks at me over her shoulder, searching for strength. I see calm fill her eyes when I go to her and take the poof at her side. I take her hand. She laces her fingers through mine.
“Hexa?” The Rakukanna says when it sounds like her Raku will no longer continue.
He smiles, “Apologies. I was distracted by the way the light from the Dark Flats reflects off of your eyes.”
“Stop trying to distract me. I’m trying to tell a story,” she says, feigning an exasperation that is betrayed by the large, goofy smile on her face.
Raku takes a seat next to her, across the low table where food and drink sits ready, enough to last us the lunar and then some, and fat candles burn bright. He lays his kit across the poof beside him and covers her with a blanket. He absently strokes her hair and I squeeze Essmira’s hand twice as she makes a soft sound, a happy sound.
Raku smirks, “I was just going to say that Essmira doesn’t know any of this history, so I suggest that you start where all good stories start, milawv.”
“And where is that?”
“The beginning.”
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Thanks so much for joining Essmira and Raingar on Lemora! I hope you enjoyed their story! Reviews, even the one-liners, are very much appreciated on Amazon or Goodreads.
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Until the next time,
Pagh!
Elizabeth