STARCROSSED Part: 3

3.

         Reaching between her thighs, Shysaanah gripped my shaft, tugging rhythmically until it stood upright on its own.  Poised over my lap she straddled me, her breasts pendulous, the dark green nipples brushing my lips whenever she moved.  Those thick buds were pure temptation and I couldn't imagine a better way to enter the day.  If breakfast was the most important meal Shysaanah's new name was breakfast.

         I flexed in her silky hand as she coaxed me relentlessly, keeping the nearly smooth folds of her pussy just beyond the swollen head of my cock.  With knees bent and her bare feet tucked up under her ass, she would stay above my reach for as long as needed to obtain my body's undivided attention; this massage was her oh-so-sweet alarm clock.

         I traced the line of her back and she arched away as my fingers went south, not pausing until my fingertips were at the vee of her tailbone.  Head tipped, eyes closed, her hair was an indigo cascade whose ends tickled the back of my hand.  Her breathing quickened and I pressed my face forward, finding those heaving slopes and biting down on the nearest one.  Suckling noisily, I dipped my fingers lower, gliding into that shadowy divide until they teased the rim of her tightest hole.  She shuddered, trapped between my mouth on her nipple and the dual threats of my fingers plunging into her from behind and my dick impaling her from below.

         “Solomon,” she hissed.  “Pazlykti lyah vyrassi koh siiden Ah,” she whispered,  sinking straight down, filling herself with every one of my inspired inches.  Her hand had been at the base of my dick but now she was cradling my bloated sac.  The sound I made when she grabbed me there urged her on.  She began rolling her hips, clockwise and counter-clockwise with a swivel that ground her clit hard against me glazing me in her  hot Nystari syrup.

         Interlocked, we struggled and writhed, working towards an explosive release.  Never thought being stranded would introduce me to the most incredible woman a career bachelor had ever met.  Her light green skin and exotic features, her enticing accent and sexual athleticism...it was nearly too good to be true.

But that was then and this, well, this was now...

*****

         Minutes evaporated and the silence thickened.  We were edging into our second week together in this cramped escape pod and somewhere, amid a flash-fire of surprisingly unrestrained sex, Shysaanah had managed to envision me as the man she wanted fathering her children.

         Me.  Our suits had a dermal hydration/ moisture reclamation system but right now it just felt like I was sweating.

         It had only been nine days.

         Nine.

         And the Nystari always had twins.

         Or triplets.

         Unfortunately, repeating the proposition didn't make the idea any less ridiculous.  Dodging the paternity bullet all these years hadn't been luck, it had been a choice.  Considering the work I did, it was a very practical choice; families were a liability, a distraction a fighting man just couldn't afford.

         Pushing away from me Shysaanah stood, bringing that round, deeply cleft ass of hers eye-level.  She began to pace, her back and forth all the more agitated for the minimal room in the compartment.  Even in frustration she was sensual, her body a beautiful confection shrink-wrapped into survival gear she made look like lingerie.  My next words, if honest, would likely end our...involvement.  The taste of her, the feel of her...that would all become the stuff of memory.

         "S'koteh pahg suhk!" she spat, suddenly full of venom.  "Kujnahkt ahn, leesh pah jah mysh RAH!"

         My jaw tensed,  this was going to be ugly.  I didn't need to know Nystari to understand pissed off.  It was probably better that her anger came out in her own language, insults had less bite when you didn't know the details. 

         "Nypilaadet sonabi teh jun--"

         "Shysaanah--"

         Pausing, she turned, folding her arms over her breasts as she faced me.  Corners of her mouth dropping, disappointment and betrayal wept from every pore.

         “You hurt me.”

         “I--”

         “You hurt me,” she repeated, the beginnings of tears moistening her green eyes.  “I offered you...everything and like a vuKOKT  you said nothing.”

         Voo-cocked...  Safe bet she just called me a dick.

         “Shysaanah, you asked me a question I couldn't answer.”

         “No, Solomon, I asked a question you wouldn't answer.”

         Cheeks flush with unfulfilled rage she bit her bottom lip and didn't say anything else.    All I could do was look at her and wait, you didn't have to be a linguist to translate the silent treatment.

         The conversational vacuum was shattered when an alarm wailed punctuating a single, repeating message: "Proximity alert, inbound vessel detected.  Proximity alert, inbound vessel detected--"

         Son of a bitch!  "Computer, distance to vessel?"

         "Thirty-one point seven million kilometers and closing."

         “We've been found,” I said, incredulous despite confirmation.  “We're being rescued.”

         “Being rescued will not make me less hurt.” 

         Thirty-one point seven million kilometers; depending on the class of the approaching ship that distance could take days to cover.

         Or minutes.

         If this wasn't fixed before then, it would stay broken.  When it rained, it fucking poured... 

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