Izzy

IZZY

I order food the way Riklinn showed me using the console in the cubicle. I make my best guess at what the Gryn will eat and double the amount.

The food arrives in short order via the distribution hatch, and I set it out as nicely as I can on the low table in the corner where there are a couple of couches. Once that’s done, I take a seat on the bed and wait.

After a while, the bathroom door opens and my massive gladiator steps out.

He is completely, absolutely, one hundred percent naked. Defined muscles shine in the lights. I was NOT ready for this, not at all, especially not when I see what’s between his legs.

Good god, it is huge! Thick and covered in studded nodes, even in an unexcited form, the thing makes me wince and want to squeeze my thighs together.

I am beginning to regret my career choices and understand Riklinn a bit better.

“Pants!” I fling one of the cushions from the bed at him. It hits the side of his head, and he fires out an arm, catching it before it falls, with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Put some pants on!”

I throw another one at him and he beats a hasty retreat. I wonder if the no touching rule extends to cushions, or if it’s just skin on skin. But given I’m still alive, it looks like cushions are a go.

Process of elimination, .

The massive gladiator peeks through the door frame at me.

“Pants,” he says before stepping through, this time with clothing on his lower half.

Clean of the dirt from the dome, he is even more impressive, the tattoos covering his skin standing out in sharp relief, his dark hair tousled, making him look quite young. The rippling abs are still very much in evidence meaning I’m not sure where to look. Although at least I’m not having to look at the beast between his legs.

I hop off the bed and walk to the seating area.

“Food.” I gesture to the feast I’ve laid out.

His eyes narrow again, looking at the food, at me, and back at the food again.

“Sit, eat,” I suggest, sitting down myself on one of the two couches.

He still hesitates.

“I won’t touch you,” I add.

It’s as if I’ve lit a fire under him. He vaults onto the couch, wings raised, and immediately is gobbling down the various dishes I’ve laid out. He doesn’t seem to take issue with anything I’ve chosen and his rate of consumption is pretty incredible.

Finally, it slows, and he sits back with a sigh, patting his stomach and, for a second, closing his eyes. They spring open almost straight away, dark pools of suspicion.

I tuck my hands under my legs, an action he watches with predatory interest.

“Blayn,” he says, snatching up some roast meat and shoving it in his mouth. “S’my name,” he says through the food.

“Hello, Blayn,” I reply.

“You don’t touch me,” he snarls, damp feathers flaring.

“I won’t touch you.”

His shoulders relax a tiny bit as those dark eyes rake over me. I suspect he’s wondering what sort of threat I am and how to deal with me if I make any sort of move in his direction. Then, with practiced stealth, he slowly goes back to the food and is gobbling it down again in no time, all the while keeping his eyes on me.

What follows is an awkward two nova-hours where he stares at me and I stare back at him. I’ve never been good at small talk, and he isn’t a talker anyway. Any attempts at conversation are met with a grunt or a growl.

He eats, oh boy does he eat, and at one point I think he might have fallen asleep, but a noise outside of the cubicle has his eyes springing open and every muscle in his tightly honed body on edge.

Eventually there is a knock on the door, and with no ceremony at all, four black clad Zarvu guards burst in and, spotting Blayn, head straight for him. His wings flare and hit the furniture. The guards seem to panic, their long poles crackling with electricity. Blayn bats them away and leaps onto the bed. Followed by two guards, he makes a break for the door and is brought up short by it being filled with a grizzled looking Xnosson bull.

“Just submit, Blayn. Make this easier on all of us.”

He looks over at where I’ve flattened myself against the wall and tilts a horn. “Make it easier on the little female who has her work cut out with you.”

Blayn, who is seemingly about to climb the walls, glances over at me and instantly, his demeanor changes. He holds out his wrists to the guards, the injuries there still livid and red. A set of cuffs is snapped on them and he is ushered out of the door.

By the time I get to the doorway, they’re all in the lift, Blayn towering over his captors, huge wings nearly blocking them out.

He stares at me, dark eyes boring into my soul, as the doors close, and he is gone.