"Just a River" Part 4
It Ain't Just a River in Egypt (Part 4)
by XFfan_2000 and NancyBrown
NC-17
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
VVVVV
Chapter Four
VVVVV
He dawdled, longer than he should have, with the men and the work. When the moon was full in the sky, he knew he could delay no more.
Bashari had set foot in the royal bedroom only once, following Katar as he'd run in to retrieve a scroll he'd left the night before. Tonight his footsteps brought him outside the doorway and he could not make himself step inside.
From within, he could see the warm glow of the lamps. And then, the woman he loved, naked and supine on the bed, smiling seductively at him.
"My Queen," he whispered.
"You're late."
"I know. I ... " He turned his head, would not look at her. He heard the susurration of her wings as she rose from the bed and came to where he stood.
"Bashari?" She placed a cool hand against his cheek. He opened his eyes to see concern lighting her beautiful features. Hidden, her face was always hidden, and he one of three people on this world who had ever seen her divine face. He had never seen Katar's face, not once.
He pressed his hand over hers, held it to his cheek. "I'm sorry. This is his bedroom, his bed."
"Mine," she corrected him.
He shook his head. "And still his as well. I can't love you here."
She let out an exasperated noise. "Last night was the most perfect night of my life, because I was with you. The only thing that marred it was sleeping on a hard floor. This is my room, my bed, and I am comfortable here."
"No," he said simply. He wondered what she would say, if she would try to order him to do so anyway.
"Then where? Your quarters? The guest room again? The gardens? Tell me where I can be with you and I will go, no matter how far." So many ways in which she stood naked before him, and he wanted to offer her the moon and the stars just to make her smile.
A thought struck him.
"Wait here," he said. "And get dressed." He kissed her quickly --- his conscience would allow that much in this room --- and left before she could protest.
VVVVV
Chayara reluctantly donned her clothing and her mask. If he wanted her to dress, he meant for them to walk where they might be seen, but she had no idea where he intended to go.
Minutes passed, and then a quarter hour, and he returned to her, slightly out of breath but pleased with himself. They put out the lamps, and then he took her hand, leading her through the quiet passageways of the palace and out onto the rooftop. The roof of the palace was not flat, but a series of small terraces. He led her to one out of sight of the wider view of the roof but which overlooked the city. Above, the few stars bright enough to compete with the gibbous moon shone down on them like watchers.
Too often, she'd wondered which one was Thanagar's sun, if she could even see it on the most star-filled night.
He'd dragged a thin mattress up here, and a sheet. Chayara suspected both were from the same room they'd slept in last night, and could not hold in her grin.
"This is wonderful."
"I thought you'd like it." He threw himself down on the mattress and placed his hands behind his head. "I remember how much I enjoyed sleeping out when I was young, and it's a perfect night. No one can see us up here, especially in the darkness, and no one will hear." He moved to his knees, took her hand and pulled her gently down to face him. He tugged off her mask and set it aside.
As their tongues fought for dominance, her hand stole downward, under his loincloth. The first time, when they were exploring and learning the subtle differences between their respective species, she was surprised to find his testicles on the outside. Thanagarian males' were inside, and she'd told him so. Bashari had seemed disconcerted by that, until he'd made his own discovery of soft down where he'd expected hair.
Chayara soon found it advantageous --- and more than a bit entertaining --- that humans weren't built the same. She could cup him, jiggle her fingers just so, and Bashari would groan in a way that drove her mad. She could squeeze lightly and have his full attention. She could stroke him and make his already hard cock even harder.
Tonight, she jiggled her fingers and Bashari moaned around her tongue, pressed his mouth and hips closer to her. His hands slid around from her back to her breasts where he tweaked her nipples through her clothes. She swatted his hands away.
Wetly, she disengaged from their kiss. "I'm in charge now," she said and shoved him back to the mattress.
Bashari's smile widened as she disrobed first herself, then him. She positioned herself between his legs, dipped her head and suckled him for a moment, just long enough to hear him sigh and feel his abdominal muscles flex. She could continue, could bring him over the edge with her mouth alone, but not now.
With a long stroke of her tongue, she left him. He whimpered and she replaced her mouth with her hand. A few hard, quick strokes with her fist and Bashari whimpered again, this time a note of discomfort in his voice. Chayara loosened her grip, remembering that humans didn't have the fortitude of Thanagarians.
To apologize, she drew herself up his body, allowing the very tips of her breasts to skim teasingly along his stomach and chest, and kissed him.
"I don't wish to hurt you," she told him.
His fingers stroked her back and wings. "You couldn't."
"I could," she said, her stomach twisting with an all-new guilt for something she had yet to do. "Easily."
To her surprise, Bashari smirked. "Perhaps it could be fun." He swatted her butt and she jolted.
"You don't want to do that," she warned, though her heart rate had accelerated.
"Don't I?" he smacked her cheek again.
Chayara bit her lip and closed her eyes.
"I think you like that," Bashari said and she could hear the legitimate astonishment in his tone.
Her fingers dug into the mattress. She opened her eyes, looked down at Bashari and reminded herself once more that he wasn't a Thanagarian. For him it was play; a stinging open-palmed slap done to be mischievous. For her --- for any Thanagarian --- it wouldn't end there. And because he wasn't Thanagarian, she could cause him to bleed, she could break every bone in his body, she could kill him. She gripped the mattress harder. Yes, she did very much like the thought of having it rough. But she couldn't. They couldn't.
Chayara sat up, straddled his hips and reached back. She firmly took both his wrists in her hands and pulled him away from her butt. As she twisted his arms upward, over his head, she gave him a small example of why she couldn't allow herself to proceed down the path he wanted to take. She put pressure on his wrists, bending them backwards almost too far.
Bashari yelped.
"Do you understand now?" she asked.
He nodded and wiggled his wrists in her grip until she released him.
"Forgive my ignorance," he requested.
Chayara smiled and kissed him. "All is forgiven, if ... " She moved her hips, pressing herself over his waning erection, rubbing him to arousal again.
Bashari's fingers dug into her thighs. "Whatever my Queen desires." His hips bucked beneath her.
"Your Queen desires you." Chayara moved again, this time taking him in.
She sat up straight and looked down at him. Bashari's hands slid up her thighs, up her stomach, his fingertips reaching for her breasts. Chayara shifted her wings, drawing them forward, catching his attention with their movement. She smiled and slowly extended them out to their full length.
Bashari's fingers left her chest and stretched for her wings, which were out of his reach. She brought them forward so he could touch them. The tug of his fingers through her feathers sent tiny jolts of pleasure to her shoulders and down her spine.
She fell forward, her weight on her hands and her wings still extended. She flexed her back muscles, drawing her wings out of Bashari's grasp in an upward stroke. She made a downward stroke, followed by another upward one. It wasn't fast or powerful enough to actually fly, but the movements pulled her up his length and pushed her back onto him again.
Bashari grasped at her hips, his short nails trying to find purchase in her skin on every stroke that threatened to detach him from her. To ground herself as she pumped her wings harder and faster, Chayara clamped around Bashari tighter and gripped the mattress more firmly.
They soared together without ever leaving the ground. Bashari flew over the edge first with a shout and a hard thrust of his hips. Chayara beat her wings twice more before following him past the brink. She collapsed atop him, her breaths coming as hard as if she'd just flown a long distance at top speed.
"That was much better than spanking you," Bashari sighed into her hair.
Though she hadn't the energy, Chayara laughed. "Perhaps someday we'll test that theory." She felt Bashari twitch within her. "But not tonight." She disengaged from him and slid down beside him, her right arm and leg draped over his body.
Bashari lay next to her, his chest rising and falling heavily, his heart pounding against her palm. She'd felt his same reactions as they flew earlier. Exhilarating. He'd called their flight exhilarating. She traced her nails lightly over his chest. She'd certainly call everything she'd experienced the past several days exhilarating.
And terrifying.
Also ... saddening.
Katar slipped into her mind uninvited. On Thanagar, they'd been partners and good friends. He'd asked her out for drinks a few times and they'd enjoyed each other's company, but the desire to permanently bond hadn't been there.
Then they'd crashed to Earth.
The people of this new planet had seen them as a joined couple, had treated them as a pair. It had been like an arranged marriage and for years, Chayara and Katar remained only friends and partners and occasional lovers. But time had passed and love had eventually grown out of circumstance.
One moonless night, they'd knelt in their damaged ship, their only tie to their homeworld. They'd lit candles, accessed as much of the appropriate text from the damaged computer as they could --- filling in the gaps with their own words --- and in their native tongue they'd pledged their love to one another.
Chayara sighed and snuggled closer to Bashari's side.
All she'd wanted was for her and Katar to have a family and build a home, for their little corner of the new world to prosper, for their people to be happy and healthy. But as the years passed, Katar's attention had turned from improving the lives of the area's citizens, to "bringing the stability of Thanagarian rule to the rest of the continent." He'd paid less and less attention to the nucleus of his world and more and more attention to the fringes and to dominating any who opposed him.
Power corrupts, Chayara knew, and Katar was well on his way to absolute power.
She'd pled, argued, cried, yelled, debated, reasoned, and questioned in her numerous attempts to ground him, to turn him back into the man she once loved. Sometimes she'd been successful, other times not.
As he'd pulled further from her, she'd tried even harder to build the family she truly wanted. Each year she'd begged for him to impregnate her, hoping that if he saw his son or daughter, he'd realize his true place was at home, not out expanding his grip on the world. Her tactic this year had been to appeal to his sense of duty, to tell him he was required to carry on his bloodline, but even that hadn't worked.
"What's wrong, Chayara?" Bashari asked, his thumb swiping her cheek.
She blinked and drew a shaky breath; realizing tears had escaped her eyes. "Nothing," she answered, wiping her eyes clear.
Bashari looked unconvinced. He leaned forward and kissed her, stroked her still-damp face. "Don't weep, my Queen."
"Don't call me that," she said against his lips, her voice catching on tears again. "Not now, not ever when we're alone together."
"Never," he assured her. He kissed her again, comforted her with his gentle touches to her wings and back, held her in his arms.
Much later, when her emotions were back in check and he had covered them with the sheet, she asked, "What do you want from life, Bashari?"
"Whatever you want," he replied.
"Don't do that. Tell me honestly, what do you want from life?"
Bashari fell silent. She raised her eyes to see him staring up at the stars.
"I want things I cannot have."
"What things?"
He swallowed, as though he feared he'd be struck dead for speaking. When he finally spoke, it was without looking at her. "You."
Chayara smiled. "You have me."
Bashari twisted his neck, facing her. "Temporarily. Chayara, people already suspect us. Rumors can be deadly. For me in particular. When Katar comes home ... "
"We will leave."
Bashari bowed his head. "We will leave." His tone suggested he didn't believe it would happen and it distressed her.
They shouldn't feel so miserable, she decided, else they were defeated before they even could begin. She shook her head, ridding it of negative thoughts.
"Once we're away, then what do you want from life?" she asked. "Tell me what our home will be like."
Bashari turned his eyes back to the stars and she saw a small smile touch his lips. "We will have a house I have made myself. It will be near running water. And it won't be hot where we live. It will be pleasant all year round."
"The heat is tiresome," Chayara agreed.
"We will have livestock and large fields. We will be self-sufficient."
"A farmer?" She was surprised. Though, after thinking about it for only a moment, it made sense that he'd want to find peace after a life of military service and warfare. "I can see you tending fields," she smiled.
Bashari nodded. "There will always be enough food to feed you and me and all our children. And when we're old, our grandchildren will sit at our feet as we tell stories of my great military victories and your benevolent ruling over a great far away land."
A lump formed in Chayara's throat. "You want children?"
Bashari's arm tightened around her shoulders. "Yes. Sons. Daughters. A large family that grows long after we're gone." Suddenly, he turned to her. "You do want children, don't you?"
She remembered the ship's computer, the experiments they'd run when they'd arrived, the sight of Katar's wings as he rolled away from her in their bed.
"I've wanted children for longer than you could possibly know."
"Good," he sighed, his head turning back toward the stars.
Her fingers resumed their meandering over his chest as notions of her and Bashari defying laws of biology to create a new life filled her thoughts and carried her nearly to sleep.
"Tell me about the heavens."
Chayara's eyes cracked open. She looked at Bashari, who still stared into space, then shifted her view upward. "The heavens are mostly empty," she yawned.
"But the stars ... "
"There's a whole lot of emptiness between them."
"I don't understand."
Chayara closed her eyes and pillowed her head more comfortably on his shoulder. "There is much I can teach you, my love."
"About the heavens?"
She nodded against him. "About the stars, other planets and other life-forms in the heavens."
"Other life-forms?" He whispered, "There are others besides us?"
She wasn't sure if he meant "besides humans" or "besides humans and Thanagarians," but either way, her response was the same. "Yes," she said. "Many, many others."
"Teach me."
"I will, Idh-yaa. I will." She could hardly stay awake. "After we've built our house, I'll teach you everything I know as we tend our crops."
She drifted off as Bashari pressed his lips against her hair.
VVVVV
Ishpi sweated in the late morning heat. He'd been given the task of getting the new recruits from Tmn-Hor fitted with weapons then teaching them how not to cut off their own ears.
He suspected the General was punishing him for something, although Ishpi ran through a quick mental list and couldn't think of anything he'd done wrong lately. More truthfully, he couldn't think of anything he'd done that hadn't been overlooked a thousand times before and thus must not be terribly bad.
So far, the training was going well. Only a few minor cuts. He'd had to separate the boys from scuffling a few times, but that was natural.
He couldn't get over how young they were; not one had more than a breath of beard. Always the King was looking to expand the borders, which meant they continually needed fresh soldiers to take and then hold the new parts of the Empire.
Ishpi stilled the smile on his face. Training had been called for the moment, due to the heat, and he was in the process of teaching the recruits other things they'd need to know in the Empire's army.
"Now, everyone put down a chip."
The boys all obediantly set stone chips in the pile. Each chip meant a measure of beer, or would after Ishpi relieved them of their chips and made them pay up.
Ishpi shook the bones in his hand and rolled the dice. Four lovely spots came up. Everyone but Isphi himself groaned as he reached into the pot and dragged his winnings closer.
"Ishpi, what in the name of Set are you doing?" boomed General Bashari's voice.
Ishpi spun, knocking over his stack of chips.
The Queen stood with him, silently. Ishpi ran his hand over his face, wishing he'd combed his hair, while the recruits hit their knees and bowed to the winged goddess.
"General! Sir! I was just teaching the new recruits as you ordered." He grinned, until he saw the General's eyes cast over the group of them and lock onto the dice.
"And what do you think you're teaching them?"
"Ah ... "
"General," said the Queen, "Ishpi was clearly showing these young men the basic principles of mathematics." She gestured to them to stop bowing.
The General's head spun and he stared at her. The Queen stared back at him, an odd smile on her lips.
Then, to Ishpi's delight and the shock of everyone else, the Queen crossed her legs and sat down on the ground next to Ishpi. "I'll show you." She grabbed the dice and rolled them. "The way these are cut and numbered, four and five will be the most common sums to come up. Basic statistics." Sure enough, five dots showed. "Now, I imagine Ishpi is going to allow these nice young men," --- most of whom stared at her slack-jawed and a bit frightened --- "to place wagers on the numbers that will come up, while he himself wagers on the likely numbers, thus teaching them the laws of probability."
The General stood back. Ishpi knew his leader's moods, and he recognized the smirk that the General was trying not to show.
"Perhaps m'lady could demonstrate," he said. Then he sat down beside her.
The Queen examined a chip. "What do these stand for?"
One of the boys chirped up: "A swallow of beer. My Queen!" His mates jostled him, shushing him, until the Queen smiled.
"Thank you." The boy beamed. "I don't know that I'd want to take your beer," she said diplomatically.
The General replied, "You and I can play a few rounds to show the men. I'm sure we can gamble for other things, my Queen." He pulled some stones from a pouch and gave her half. Ishpi noticed that it took her a long time to take all the little stones from his hand.
The Queen set down her chips and took the dice. "Fine. We'll demonstrate. And you and I can work out the payment details later." She rolled.
After, Ishpi would remember thinking that he'd never seen the General so happy to lose a bet.
VVVVV
Nesamun was the only one not abed, and he liked it that way.
He rarely napped at noon, choosing to spend his time reading or writing or drawing. Scroll after scroll was wasted (Ishpi's word) on the intricate designs that burned the insides of Nesamun's eyes when he closed them: the curvature of springs, coiled and ready to fire spears over great distances; the teeth of gears, smoothly turning to open a doorway or even propel a wheel. The General had asked the Queen's permission, and so Nesamun spent many a glorious hour in the ship of the gods, examining the sleek metals and sussing out the magical secrets. With the Queen's permission, he had even begun some work, in his little free time, with a few precious scraps of what she called the Ninth Metal, coaxing it to merge with bronze and iron.
Today, he continued his study of the ship's log, the holy Absorbacron. The Queen had ordered him never to touch it, lest it harm him, so he stood a safe distance away and sketched.
Nesamun heard footsteps outside. He set down his papyrus in time to see the Queen walk up the gangplank of the vessel.
"Oh! I didn't expect to see you here, Nesamun," she said.
"Queen Chayara," he stammered, and made a low bow.
She walked over to him and picked up his drawings. "These are good."
"My thanks. I will leave you to your work."
"You may stay," she said. "I simply wanted to consult the ship's computer on something. Continue your work."
Nesamun knew an order when he heard one. He turned back to the Absorbacron and his pencils. Behind him, the Queen moved her fingers over the panel. The mechanism that moved the ship hummed and crackled; she'd told him that meant it was damaged beyond what she or her husband could repair.
In his deepest dreams, Nesamun thought that perhaps, once he'd unlocked enough of the mysteries of this ship, he might someday be the one to repair it for them.
Queen Chayara made a displeased noise in her throat.
"Is there something I can do, Your Majesty?"
She pounded a fist into the metal. "No. This cthylla thing doesn't know up from down anymore. On one day, it says the sky is blue, the next red."
"I see," he said, although he did not. He glanced at the symbols on the screen. The Queen had taught him a smattering of her language ("cthylla" for example, meant "fornicates with one's own parent") but he did not recognize the symbols blinking irregularly on the screen while she scowled.
The Queen smacked a switch and the screen went dark. She continued scowling as she turned. "How goes your study?" she asked him with a brittle brightness.
He spread his hands. "I could learn more by examining it closer, but I follow your command."
She sighed, then grabbed the Absorbacron. Brilliant lights flashed in the small ship, and Nesamun took two steps back as she closed her eyes. Then, grabbing his pencils quickly, he sketched what he saw like a madman.
A few minutes later, the Queen dropped her hand to her side. Her scowl was gone, replaced by a musing sadness. "This isn't in good condition, either."
"I will repair it for you, my Queen," he said, spitting out the promise quickly before he could stop himself.
Her lips quirked into a smile. "I think you would. Consider it a challenge, but remember not to touch. I've just recharged it, and an unshielded contact could easily wipe your mind. I am very fond of your brain, so for my sake please don't damage it."
Nesamun felt the blood in his cheeks. The General had badgered Nesamun and his companions to treat the Queen as a friend (although the General had made quite clear, noting Ishpi's expression, that he meant a friend who could have them all executed on a whim). Nesamun enjoyed her company, though he remained very polite. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
A thoughtful look crossed her face. "You and your friends, you love Bashari, don't you?"
He thought about it for only a moment. "Of course, my Queen." There was nothing he would not do, should the General ask him.
"And you are loyal to me."
"Without question."
"Be watchful," she said quietly. "We may have need of your loyalty."
He bowed his head. "Anything you ask. Simply name it."
"When the time comes, you will know, and if you are true to me, to us, I promise you in return that I will protect you with all my power."
Before he could possibly question her strange words, a voice came from without, the General's: "My Queen?"
"In here," she called.
The General entered the vessel.
"I was just coming to look for you," said the Queen.
"Then better for us both that I found you first," the General said. A smile lit his face, and another bloomed on hers.
Nesamun looked back and forth between them, then buried his attention in his drawing.
"Let me know how your progress goes," the Queen told him.
"Yes, Your Majesty," said Nesamun, and he bowed again as she left with General Bashari.
VVVVV
Katar flew into his city with the late afternoon rays of the sun warming his side. It had been a long, hard journey both ways, and he was unaccustomed to traveling such a distance. He'd done little enough fighting when he'd arrived in Nebet: at the sight of his golden winged form leading a phalanx of troops, the rebels had broken ranks and fled.
He had to admit, he was pleased with that result.
And now he was home, and he was sore, and he was tired and hungry and filthy, but more than anything, he had a longing to see Chayara again.
Katar touched down lightly on the balcony overlooking the city, and walked inside. Servants, surprised to see him, scurried around anticipating his requests even before he spoke.
Godhood had its benefits.
He went to his bedroom first, not really expecting to find Chayara there. Two servants followed him into the room, his own body servant Kemnebi and Chayara's as well.
"Metit, where is the Queen?" he demanded of her.
The girl stepped back and stammered, "The Goddess has gone into the city, my King. She didn't say when she would return."
Katar sighed and ordered her to draw him a bath while Kemnebi helped him strip off his dirty traveling clothes. Minutes later, Katar dipped his tired body in a tub filled with lukewarm water, feeling relief soak into him, and civilization, too. Just because he lived among savages didn't mean he had to smell like one.
Fresh from his bath, he dressed and considered going into the city himself in search of his wife. But then, she hadn't known for certain he would return, and she had her own duties and interests, and she would be home soon enough.
He sent the servants away, and sat on his bed, frowning. Chayara would still be in her season, still be deep in desire for him, for a child. He hated having to tell her "No" year after year, but he wasn't ready for a family.
At the same time, the short span he'd spent away from her made him eager to find her right now, pull her into the nearest alcove, and bury himself deep inside her. Encountering her in her heat, beautiful and willing and drenched in pheromones, he wasn't sure he could stop himself. She might get her baby from him yet.
Katar stood and stretched.
Perhaps tonight, he would grant her what she wanted. A child could give her whatever joy she was missing from her life, and he always wanted to give her joy. Even if he was not ready, she said she was.
He left his bedroom, walked down the corridor towards the throne room to see what business he'd missed in his absence. As he reached the outer chamber, Hath-Set detached himself from a shadow.
I hate it when he does that.
"My King, I am pleased to see you well and safely returned from Nebet." Katar inclined his head. "May I have a word with you?"
VVVVV
To be continued. Feedback makes us happy.
by XFfan_2000 and NancyBrown
NC-17
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
VVVVV
Chapter Four
VVVVV
He dawdled, longer than he should have, with the men and the work. When the moon was full in the sky, he knew he could delay no more.
Bashari had set foot in the royal bedroom only once, following Katar as he'd run in to retrieve a scroll he'd left the night before. Tonight his footsteps brought him outside the doorway and he could not make himself step inside.
From within, he could see the warm glow of the lamps. And then, the woman he loved, naked and supine on the bed, smiling seductively at him.
"My Queen," he whispered.
"You're late."
"I know. I ... " He turned his head, would not look at her. He heard the susurration of her wings as she rose from the bed and came to where he stood.
"Bashari?" She placed a cool hand against his cheek. He opened his eyes to see concern lighting her beautiful features. Hidden, her face was always hidden, and he one of three people on this world who had ever seen her divine face. He had never seen Katar's face, not once.
He pressed his hand over hers, held it to his cheek. "I'm sorry. This is his bedroom, his bed."
"Mine," she corrected him.
He shook his head. "And still his as well. I can't love you here."
She let out an exasperated noise. "Last night was the most perfect night of my life, because I was with you. The only thing that marred it was sleeping on a hard floor. This is my room, my bed, and I am comfortable here."
"No," he said simply. He wondered what she would say, if she would try to order him to do so anyway.
"Then where? Your quarters? The guest room again? The gardens? Tell me where I can be with you and I will go, no matter how far." So many ways in which she stood naked before him, and he wanted to offer her the moon and the stars just to make her smile.
A thought struck him.
"Wait here," he said. "And get dressed." He kissed her quickly --- his conscience would allow that much in this room --- and left before she could protest.
VVVVV
Chayara reluctantly donned her clothing and her mask. If he wanted her to dress, he meant for them to walk where they might be seen, but she had no idea where he intended to go.
Minutes passed, and then a quarter hour, and he returned to her, slightly out of breath but pleased with himself. They put out the lamps, and then he took her hand, leading her through the quiet passageways of the palace and out onto the rooftop. The roof of the palace was not flat, but a series of small terraces. He led her to one out of sight of the wider view of the roof but which overlooked the city. Above, the few stars bright enough to compete with the gibbous moon shone down on them like watchers.
Too often, she'd wondered which one was Thanagar's sun, if she could even see it on the most star-filled night.
He'd dragged a thin mattress up here, and a sheet. Chayara suspected both were from the same room they'd slept in last night, and could not hold in her grin.
"This is wonderful."
"I thought you'd like it." He threw himself down on the mattress and placed his hands behind his head. "I remember how much I enjoyed sleeping out when I was young, and it's a perfect night. No one can see us up here, especially in the darkness, and no one will hear." He moved to his knees, took her hand and pulled her gently down to face him. He tugged off her mask and set it aside.
As their tongues fought for dominance, her hand stole downward, under his loincloth. The first time, when they were exploring and learning the subtle differences between their respective species, she was surprised to find his testicles on the outside. Thanagarian males' were inside, and she'd told him so. Bashari had seemed disconcerted by that, until he'd made his own discovery of soft down where he'd expected hair.
Chayara soon found it advantageous --- and more than a bit entertaining --- that humans weren't built the same. She could cup him, jiggle her fingers just so, and Bashari would groan in a way that drove her mad. She could squeeze lightly and have his full attention. She could stroke him and make his already hard cock even harder.
Tonight, she jiggled her fingers and Bashari moaned around her tongue, pressed his mouth and hips closer to her. His hands slid around from her back to her breasts where he tweaked her nipples through her clothes. She swatted his hands away.
Wetly, she disengaged from their kiss. "I'm in charge now," she said and shoved him back to the mattress.
Bashari's smile widened as she disrobed first herself, then him. She positioned herself between his legs, dipped her head and suckled him for a moment, just long enough to hear him sigh and feel his abdominal muscles flex. She could continue, could bring him over the edge with her mouth alone, but not now.
With a long stroke of her tongue, she left him. He whimpered and she replaced her mouth with her hand. A few hard, quick strokes with her fist and Bashari whimpered again, this time a note of discomfort in his voice. Chayara loosened her grip, remembering that humans didn't have the fortitude of Thanagarians.
To apologize, she drew herself up his body, allowing the very tips of her breasts to skim teasingly along his stomach and chest, and kissed him.
"I don't wish to hurt you," she told him.
His fingers stroked her back and wings. "You couldn't."
"I could," she said, her stomach twisting with an all-new guilt for something she had yet to do. "Easily."
To her surprise, Bashari smirked. "Perhaps it could be fun." He swatted her butt and she jolted.
"You don't want to do that," she warned, though her heart rate had accelerated.
"Don't I?" he smacked her cheek again.
Chayara bit her lip and closed her eyes.
"I think you like that," Bashari said and she could hear the legitimate astonishment in his tone.
Her fingers dug into the mattress. She opened her eyes, looked down at Bashari and reminded herself once more that he wasn't a Thanagarian. For him it was play; a stinging open-palmed slap done to be mischievous. For her --- for any Thanagarian --- it wouldn't end there. And because he wasn't Thanagarian, she could cause him to bleed, she could break every bone in his body, she could kill him. She gripped the mattress harder. Yes, she did very much like the thought of having it rough. But she couldn't. They couldn't.
Chayara sat up, straddled his hips and reached back. She firmly took both his wrists in her hands and pulled him away from her butt. As she twisted his arms upward, over his head, she gave him a small example of why she couldn't allow herself to proceed down the path he wanted to take. She put pressure on his wrists, bending them backwards almost too far.
Bashari yelped.
"Do you understand now?" she asked.
He nodded and wiggled his wrists in her grip until she released him.
"Forgive my ignorance," he requested.
Chayara smiled and kissed him. "All is forgiven, if ... " She moved her hips, pressing herself over his waning erection, rubbing him to arousal again.
Bashari's fingers dug into her thighs. "Whatever my Queen desires." His hips bucked beneath her.
"Your Queen desires you." Chayara moved again, this time taking him in.
She sat up straight and looked down at him. Bashari's hands slid up her thighs, up her stomach, his fingertips reaching for her breasts. Chayara shifted her wings, drawing them forward, catching his attention with their movement. She smiled and slowly extended them out to their full length.
Bashari's fingers left her chest and stretched for her wings, which were out of his reach. She brought them forward so he could touch them. The tug of his fingers through her feathers sent tiny jolts of pleasure to her shoulders and down her spine.
She fell forward, her weight on her hands and her wings still extended. She flexed her back muscles, drawing her wings out of Bashari's grasp in an upward stroke. She made a downward stroke, followed by another upward one. It wasn't fast or powerful enough to actually fly, but the movements pulled her up his length and pushed her back onto him again.
Bashari grasped at her hips, his short nails trying to find purchase in her skin on every stroke that threatened to detach him from her. To ground herself as she pumped her wings harder and faster, Chayara clamped around Bashari tighter and gripped the mattress more firmly.
They soared together without ever leaving the ground. Bashari flew over the edge first with a shout and a hard thrust of his hips. Chayara beat her wings twice more before following him past the brink. She collapsed atop him, her breaths coming as hard as if she'd just flown a long distance at top speed.
"That was much better than spanking you," Bashari sighed into her hair.
Though she hadn't the energy, Chayara laughed. "Perhaps someday we'll test that theory." She felt Bashari twitch within her. "But not tonight." She disengaged from him and slid down beside him, her right arm and leg draped over his body.
Bashari lay next to her, his chest rising and falling heavily, his heart pounding against her palm. She'd felt his same reactions as they flew earlier. Exhilarating. He'd called their flight exhilarating. She traced her nails lightly over his chest. She'd certainly call everything she'd experienced the past several days exhilarating.
And terrifying.
Also ... saddening.
Katar slipped into her mind uninvited. On Thanagar, they'd been partners and good friends. He'd asked her out for drinks a few times and they'd enjoyed each other's company, but the desire to permanently bond hadn't been there.
Then they'd crashed to Earth.
The people of this new planet had seen them as a joined couple, had treated them as a pair. It had been like an arranged marriage and for years, Chayara and Katar remained only friends and partners and occasional lovers. But time had passed and love had eventually grown out of circumstance.
One moonless night, they'd knelt in their damaged ship, their only tie to their homeworld. They'd lit candles, accessed as much of the appropriate text from the damaged computer as they could --- filling in the gaps with their own words --- and in their native tongue they'd pledged their love to one another.
Chayara sighed and snuggled closer to Bashari's side.
All she'd wanted was for her and Katar to have a family and build a home, for their little corner of the new world to prosper, for their people to be happy and healthy. But as the years passed, Katar's attention had turned from improving the lives of the area's citizens, to "bringing the stability of Thanagarian rule to the rest of the continent." He'd paid less and less attention to the nucleus of his world and more and more attention to the fringes and to dominating any who opposed him.
Power corrupts, Chayara knew, and Katar was well on his way to absolute power.
She'd pled, argued, cried, yelled, debated, reasoned, and questioned in her numerous attempts to ground him, to turn him back into the man she once loved. Sometimes she'd been successful, other times not.
As he'd pulled further from her, she'd tried even harder to build the family she truly wanted. Each year she'd begged for him to impregnate her, hoping that if he saw his son or daughter, he'd realize his true place was at home, not out expanding his grip on the world. Her tactic this year had been to appeal to his sense of duty, to tell him he was required to carry on his bloodline, but even that hadn't worked.
"What's wrong, Chayara?" Bashari asked, his thumb swiping her cheek.
She blinked and drew a shaky breath; realizing tears had escaped her eyes. "Nothing," she answered, wiping her eyes clear.
Bashari looked unconvinced. He leaned forward and kissed her, stroked her still-damp face. "Don't weep, my Queen."
"Don't call me that," she said against his lips, her voice catching on tears again. "Not now, not ever when we're alone together."
"Never," he assured her. He kissed her again, comforted her with his gentle touches to her wings and back, held her in his arms.
Much later, when her emotions were back in check and he had covered them with the sheet, she asked, "What do you want from life, Bashari?"
"Whatever you want," he replied.
"Don't do that. Tell me honestly, what do you want from life?"
Bashari fell silent. She raised her eyes to see him staring up at the stars.
"I want things I cannot have."
"What things?"
He swallowed, as though he feared he'd be struck dead for speaking. When he finally spoke, it was without looking at her. "You."
Chayara smiled. "You have me."
Bashari twisted his neck, facing her. "Temporarily. Chayara, people already suspect us. Rumors can be deadly. For me in particular. When Katar comes home ... "
"We will leave."
Bashari bowed his head. "We will leave." His tone suggested he didn't believe it would happen and it distressed her.
They shouldn't feel so miserable, she decided, else they were defeated before they even could begin. She shook her head, ridding it of negative thoughts.
"Once we're away, then what do you want from life?" she asked. "Tell me what our home will be like."
Bashari turned his eyes back to the stars and she saw a small smile touch his lips. "We will have a house I have made myself. It will be near running water. And it won't be hot where we live. It will be pleasant all year round."
"The heat is tiresome," Chayara agreed.
"We will have livestock and large fields. We will be self-sufficient."
"A farmer?" She was surprised. Though, after thinking about it for only a moment, it made sense that he'd want to find peace after a life of military service and warfare. "I can see you tending fields," she smiled.
Bashari nodded. "There will always be enough food to feed you and me and all our children. And when we're old, our grandchildren will sit at our feet as we tell stories of my great military victories and your benevolent ruling over a great far away land."
A lump formed in Chayara's throat. "You want children?"
Bashari's arm tightened around her shoulders. "Yes. Sons. Daughters. A large family that grows long after we're gone." Suddenly, he turned to her. "You do want children, don't you?"
She remembered the ship's computer, the experiments they'd run when they'd arrived, the sight of Katar's wings as he rolled away from her in their bed.
"I've wanted children for longer than you could possibly know."
"Good," he sighed, his head turning back toward the stars.
Her fingers resumed their meandering over his chest as notions of her and Bashari defying laws of biology to create a new life filled her thoughts and carried her nearly to sleep.
"Tell me about the heavens."
Chayara's eyes cracked open. She looked at Bashari, who still stared into space, then shifted her view upward. "The heavens are mostly empty," she yawned.
"But the stars ... "
"There's a whole lot of emptiness between them."
"I don't understand."
Chayara closed her eyes and pillowed her head more comfortably on his shoulder. "There is much I can teach you, my love."
"About the heavens?"
She nodded against him. "About the stars, other planets and other life-forms in the heavens."
"Other life-forms?" He whispered, "There are others besides us?"
She wasn't sure if he meant "besides humans" or "besides humans and Thanagarians," but either way, her response was the same. "Yes," she said. "Many, many others."
"Teach me."
"I will, Idh-yaa. I will." She could hardly stay awake. "After we've built our house, I'll teach you everything I know as we tend our crops."
She drifted off as Bashari pressed his lips against her hair.
VVVVV
Ishpi sweated in the late morning heat. He'd been given the task of getting the new recruits from Tmn-Hor fitted with weapons then teaching them how not to cut off their own ears.
He suspected the General was punishing him for something, although Ishpi ran through a quick mental list and couldn't think of anything he'd done wrong lately. More truthfully, he couldn't think of anything he'd done that hadn't been overlooked a thousand times before and thus must not be terribly bad.
So far, the training was going well. Only a few minor cuts. He'd had to separate the boys from scuffling a few times, but that was natural.
He couldn't get over how young they were; not one had more than a breath of beard. Always the King was looking to expand the borders, which meant they continually needed fresh soldiers to take and then hold the new parts of the Empire.
Ishpi stilled the smile on his face. Training had been called for the moment, due to the heat, and he was in the process of teaching the recruits other things they'd need to know in the Empire's army.
"Now, everyone put down a chip."
The boys all obediantly set stone chips in the pile. Each chip meant a measure of beer, or would after Ishpi relieved them of their chips and made them pay up.
Ishpi shook the bones in his hand and rolled the dice. Four lovely spots came up. Everyone but Isphi himself groaned as he reached into the pot and dragged his winnings closer.
"Ishpi, what in the name of Set are you doing?" boomed General Bashari's voice.
Ishpi spun, knocking over his stack of chips.
The Queen stood with him, silently. Ishpi ran his hand over his face, wishing he'd combed his hair, while the recruits hit their knees and bowed to the winged goddess.
"General! Sir! I was just teaching the new recruits as you ordered." He grinned, until he saw the General's eyes cast over the group of them and lock onto the dice.
"And what do you think you're teaching them?"
"Ah ... "
"General," said the Queen, "Ishpi was clearly showing these young men the basic principles of mathematics." She gestured to them to stop bowing.
The General's head spun and he stared at her. The Queen stared back at him, an odd smile on her lips.
Then, to Ishpi's delight and the shock of everyone else, the Queen crossed her legs and sat down on the ground next to Ishpi. "I'll show you." She grabbed the dice and rolled them. "The way these are cut and numbered, four and five will be the most common sums to come up. Basic statistics." Sure enough, five dots showed. "Now, I imagine Ishpi is going to allow these nice young men," --- most of whom stared at her slack-jawed and a bit frightened --- "to place wagers on the numbers that will come up, while he himself wagers on the likely numbers, thus teaching them the laws of probability."
The General stood back. Ishpi knew his leader's moods, and he recognized the smirk that the General was trying not to show.
"Perhaps m'lady could demonstrate," he said. Then he sat down beside her.
The Queen examined a chip. "What do these stand for?"
One of the boys chirped up: "A swallow of beer. My Queen!" His mates jostled him, shushing him, until the Queen smiled.
"Thank you." The boy beamed. "I don't know that I'd want to take your beer," she said diplomatically.
The General replied, "You and I can play a few rounds to show the men. I'm sure we can gamble for other things, my Queen." He pulled some stones from a pouch and gave her half. Ishpi noticed that it took her a long time to take all the little stones from his hand.
The Queen set down her chips and took the dice. "Fine. We'll demonstrate. And you and I can work out the payment details later." She rolled.
After, Ishpi would remember thinking that he'd never seen the General so happy to lose a bet.
VVVVV
Nesamun was the only one not abed, and he liked it that way.
He rarely napped at noon, choosing to spend his time reading or writing or drawing. Scroll after scroll was wasted (Ishpi's word) on the intricate designs that burned the insides of Nesamun's eyes when he closed them: the curvature of springs, coiled and ready to fire spears over great distances; the teeth of gears, smoothly turning to open a doorway or even propel a wheel. The General had asked the Queen's permission, and so Nesamun spent many a glorious hour in the ship of the gods, examining the sleek metals and sussing out the magical secrets. With the Queen's permission, he had even begun some work, in his little free time, with a few precious scraps of what she called the Ninth Metal, coaxing it to merge with bronze and iron.
Today, he continued his study of the ship's log, the holy Absorbacron. The Queen had ordered him never to touch it, lest it harm him, so he stood a safe distance away and sketched.
Nesamun heard footsteps outside. He set down his papyrus in time to see the Queen walk up the gangplank of the vessel.
"Oh! I didn't expect to see you here, Nesamun," she said.
"Queen Chayara," he stammered, and made a low bow.
She walked over to him and picked up his drawings. "These are good."
"My thanks. I will leave you to your work."
"You may stay," she said. "I simply wanted to consult the ship's computer on something. Continue your work."
Nesamun knew an order when he heard one. He turned back to the Absorbacron and his pencils. Behind him, the Queen moved her fingers over the panel. The mechanism that moved the ship hummed and crackled; she'd told him that meant it was damaged beyond what she or her husband could repair.
In his deepest dreams, Nesamun thought that perhaps, once he'd unlocked enough of the mysteries of this ship, he might someday be the one to repair it for them.
Queen Chayara made a displeased noise in her throat.
"Is there something I can do, Your Majesty?"
She pounded a fist into the metal. "No. This cthylla thing doesn't know up from down anymore. On one day, it says the sky is blue, the next red."
"I see," he said, although he did not. He glanced at the symbols on the screen. The Queen had taught him a smattering of her language ("cthylla" for example, meant "fornicates with one's own parent") but he did not recognize the symbols blinking irregularly on the screen while she scowled.
The Queen smacked a switch and the screen went dark. She continued scowling as she turned. "How goes your study?" she asked him with a brittle brightness.
He spread his hands. "I could learn more by examining it closer, but I follow your command."
She sighed, then grabbed the Absorbacron. Brilliant lights flashed in the small ship, and Nesamun took two steps back as she closed her eyes. Then, grabbing his pencils quickly, he sketched what he saw like a madman.
A few minutes later, the Queen dropped her hand to her side. Her scowl was gone, replaced by a musing sadness. "This isn't in good condition, either."
"I will repair it for you, my Queen," he said, spitting out the promise quickly before he could stop himself.
Her lips quirked into a smile. "I think you would. Consider it a challenge, but remember not to touch. I've just recharged it, and an unshielded contact could easily wipe your mind. I am very fond of your brain, so for my sake please don't damage it."
Nesamun felt the blood in his cheeks. The General had badgered Nesamun and his companions to treat the Queen as a friend (although the General had made quite clear, noting Ishpi's expression, that he meant a friend who could have them all executed on a whim). Nesamun enjoyed her company, though he remained very polite. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
A thoughtful look crossed her face. "You and your friends, you love Bashari, don't you?"
He thought about it for only a moment. "Of course, my Queen." There was nothing he would not do, should the General ask him.
"And you are loyal to me."
"Without question."
"Be watchful," she said quietly. "We may have need of your loyalty."
He bowed his head. "Anything you ask. Simply name it."
"When the time comes, you will know, and if you are true to me, to us, I promise you in return that I will protect you with all my power."
Before he could possibly question her strange words, a voice came from without, the General's: "My Queen?"
"In here," she called.
The General entered the vessel.
"I was just coming to look for you," said the Queen.
"Then better for us both that I found you first," the General said. A smile lit his face, and another bloomed on hers.
Nesamun looked back and forth between them, then buried his attention in his drawing.
"Let me know how your progress goes," the Queen told him.
"Yes, Your Majesty," said Nesamun, and he bowed again as she left with General Bashari.
VVVVV
Katar flew into his city with the late afternoon rays of the sun warming his side. It had been a long, hard journey both ways, and he was unaccustomed to traveling such a distance. He'd done little enough fighting when he'd arrived in Nebet: at the sight of his golden winged form leading a phalanx of troops, the rebels had broken ranks and fled.
He had to admit, he was pleased with that result.
And now he was home, and he was sore, and he was tired and hungry and filthy, but more than anything, he had a longing to see Chayara again.
Katar touched down lightly on the balcony overlooking the city, and walked inside. Servants, surprised to see him, scurried around anticipating his requests even before he spoke.
Godhood had its benefits.
He went to his bedroom first, not really expecting to find Chayara there. Two servants followed him into the room, his own body servant Kemnebi and Chayara's as well.
"Metit, where is the Queen?" he demanded of her.
The girl stepped back and stammered, "The Goddess has gone into the city, my King. She didn't say when she would return."
Katar sighed and ordered her to draw him a bath while Kemnebi helped him strip off his dirty traveling clothes. Minutes later, Katar dipped his tired body in a tub filled with lukewarm water, feeling relief soak into him, and civilization, too. Just because he lived among savages didn't mean he had to smell like one.
Fresh from his bath, he dressed and considered going into the city himself in search of his wife. But then, she hadn't known for certain he would return, and she had her own duties and interests, and she would be home soon enough.
He sent the servants away, and sat on his bed, frowning. Chayara would still be in her season, still be deep in desire for him, for a child. He hated having to tell her "No" year after year, but he wasn't ready for a family.
At the same time, the short span he'd spent away from her made him eager to find her right now, pull her into the nearest alcove, and bury himself deep inside her. Encountering her in her heat, beautiful and willing and drenched in pheromones, he wasn't sure he could stop himself. She might get her baby from him yet.
Katar stood and stretched.
Perhaps tonight, he would grant her what she wanted. A child could give her whatever joy she was missing from her life, and he always wanted to give her joy. Even if he was not ready, she said she was.
He left his bedroom, walked down the corridor towards the throne room to see what business he'd missed in his absence. As he reached the outer chamber, Hath-Set detached himself from a shadow.
I hate it when he does that.
"My King, I am pleased to see you well and safely returned from Nebet." Katar inclined his head. "May I have a word with you?"
VVVVV
To be continued. Feedback makes us happy.