Chapter 7 | Justine

Chapter 7

Justine

I startle awake when I realize I’m sleeping against something, no, someone with two beating hearts. A warm, strong Xanxian who smells delicious and is wearing something stretchy. Markas. I’m sleeping on Markas.

Somewhere between the time when the engines fired up and when we reached open space, Markas managed to cast a spell on me. Or more accurately, he distracted me enough so that I could relax and fall asleep. It’s been a long day, and my nerves have been stretched to their limit. But feeling the ship take off was the worst part.

I didn’t think the rumble of the engines would trigger such a primal terror in me. I truly felt like I was going to die, even though nothing was going wrong. Markas must have noticed. I wonder if the whole story he told, including the part about him being scared, was designed to calm me.

The man lies so easily it’s hard to tell. I turn my head so I can look at his face. He smiles gently at me. If I hadn’t already been betrayed by him, I’d swear he was the sweetest, most loyal guy in the galaxy. It’s so easy to imagine spending lazy afternoons snuggled together. Damn, the truth hurts.

“Have a nice beauty sleep? It’s almost time for dinner,” he says, his arms still cradling me.

I brace myself against the sofa and push off him.

“Yeah, so we’re in space now?” I ask, needing distance.

“Yep. Everything went smoothly. Want to get ready? We have to put on our pretty faces soon.” He stands up and stretches.

He’s still wearing that blasted catsuit he picked out earlier. When he moves, I can see all his muscles flexing from head to toe. My mouth goes dry. I can’t believe this is a real fashion nowadays. It leaves too little to the imagination. The hard planes of his chest, the tall shoulder ridges, his tight abs, and heaven help me, the thick bulge between his legs are all visible.

How is this allowed? It should be against the law to show this much. I shake my head. Playing the prude isn’t going to make me want him less.

I look down and remember I’m wearing the same thing. Uggh. Is Markas enjoying the view like I am? I feel that old familiar anger burn in my gut.

“Why did you make us happy newlyweds? We could have been fighting newlyweds. Or platonic friends.”

“No one would have believed that. No Xanxians, at any rate.”

I still don’t understand how Xanxians can sense other people’s sexual interest. Is it a smell, or a vibration? Can they see a special aura that says, “I’d like to fuck you now. Let’s get to it”

I almost ask Markas, but I don’t want to hear the answer from him. It’s embarrassing enough that he knows I feel that way about him. It’s not just a stray thought, here and there. It’s like a steady drumbeat of desire that never really goes away.

I grunt, wishing I could throw the drum away.

“Maybe if you’d given me more time, I could’ve crafted a more enjoyable cover story, but now we should get ready.” He holds out his hand and helps me to my feet.

“Alright. I’ll get my makeup.”

* * *

I’m glad I have something else to focus on. Every time I think too much about Markas, I get ragey. It’s better than being terrified about the ship, but only a little. I walk to the corner of the cabin next to the entertainment center where Markas neatly arranged our purchases. I bought a bunch of stuff at the Beauty Emporium, not just for the trip, but for whatever comes afterwards.

Having a full kit of quality supplies is important for a professional makeup artist like me and I was dreading having to replace it when I got back to Xanx. It was actually my main concern when I was huddled aboard the escape pod after the disaster. How much would it cost to replace everything? Then pirates struck, and it became the least of my worries.

I dip into the bag and retrieve a soft zipper case full of high-end brushes. A little of my anger disperses. Then I pull out a palette of pressed powders, some oils, and a jar of glitter gel. My spirit lifts a little more. I unwrap each piece and lay them out over the vanity, gathering a few to clean before I use them. I liked cutting his hair, but I’m thrilled to use my real skills now. It makes me feel like my old self isn’t completely lost.

“Let’s do you first,” I say to Markas. He raises his eyebrows, and I resist the urge to sock him in the jaw. “Go rinse your face and? sit down in this chair.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says and does as he’s told.

I pull out the hand mirror and the extra lights I purchased, then adjust the chair so the light will hit Markas’ face. I don’t plan to do anything fancy with him, but I would like to make him look a little different. Maybe contour his cheekbones and nose. He sits in the chair and looks at me in the mirror.

“I’m all yours. Do whatever you want,” he says in that low, velvet voice of his.

“Do you really mean that? Anything?” My voice is lower too.

“Yes, I’m completely yours.”

I close my eyes and try to breathe. Markas’ meaning couldn’t be clearer. He’s offering himself to me. To take. To taste. I open my eyes and try to look calm, but I can feel heat flaring on my cheeks, excitement dripping between my legs. And I know he can tell how his words affect me. I’m probably radiating mating signals like a lighthouse on fire.

I can tell he knows. He licks his lips and looks up at me through his inky lashes, smiling like a cat. He’s pushed the perfect button, nailed my fantasy on the nose.

I’ve thought so many times about what I’d do if he was mine, if he was at my mercy. He’s not tied to the chair like I had imagined, but it’s so close: the way he smiles and waits for me to decide what to do next. He told me he’s mine, and it’s a lie, but it’s one I want to believe so badly it makes my hands shake when I reach to grab my skincare set.

I try to be businesslike as I smooth moisturizer over Markas’ cheeks and nose, but even touching his face feels intimate. I lean in awkwardly and he opens his legs so I can get even closer. Close enough that our breaths mingle, that I can feel the heat of his body. Close so that I can see the faint lines at the corners of his eyes and feel the pink stubble on his jaw.

I love seeing him up close. It makes him feel real instead of a figment of my fevered imagination. He’s so vibrant and alive beneath my hands, his skin hot and flushed. Like he’s as excited by our proximity as I am.

I pick up a tube of concealer and dot it over the small imperfections in his fiery complexion. There’s a pale scar over his left eye and a blemish next to his nose. I could use the makeup sponge, but I want to touch him skin to skin. I want to climb on to his lap. I want to kiss his scar and feel the burn of his stubble against my jaw.

He’s breathing harder now that I’m touching him, that I’m letting my imagination run wild. His smug smile is gone, and his eyes are hot on me. Maybe it’s not just me that’s weak. Maybe his control is hovering on the brink, too. I could push him over the edge. It would be so easy, but I hesitate. Once I give in and take what I want, there’ll be no going back. That’s when I feel his hands on my hips.

“Markas,” I say, breathless. “You’re supposed to ask first.”

He pulls back his hands like he’s been burned.

“The signals, your body,” he growls.

“It doesn’t matter. You always have to ask a human first.” I rub my thumb over his lips, then over his jaw.

“ You didn’t ask,” he points out.

“I’m not doing anything lewd.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

“That doesn’t count.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh and slowly says, “Can I touch you?”

“Just a touch?” I tease.

“Come on, Justine.”

“I want you to ask nicely.” My voice is like syrup pouring over him. He inhales a shaky breath.

“Dearest Justine, may I please kiss you, touch you, peel off this ridiculous catsuit and lick your pussy? If there’s time, I’d also like to fuck you until you’re screaming my name. Would that be acceptable to you?”

“Hmmmm.”

“Is that a yes?” he asks.

“It’s a yes, except the catsuit stays put. I’m not wrestling it off and on again. Do you want me to ask permission too?” I ask.

“No. I want you to do whatever you want with me. Use me however you need.”

“Ahhhh, that’s what I like to hear. Start by opening your zippers.”

He looks down to find where they are. He opens the one above his left nipple, across his abs, his forearm, and inner thigh.

“You can open mine too, but nothing more.” I lean down so he can unzip my shoulders first, exposing their smooth surface to his hungry gaze. He removes his hands quickly, like he’s afraid of what he wants to do next. Then he opens the panel over my belly button. He hesitates when he reaches for the daring? zipper that traces my bikini line. “Go ahead and open it,” I tell him.

I can feel the tremor in his hands as he slowly unzips the fabric. I’m practically vibrating myself feeling his touch so close to where I want it the most. Cool air dances on the edge of the parted fabric.

“Get on your knees,” I say.

He immediately pushes off the chair and gets on the floor, then looks at me for approval. I nod and step closer to him, only stopping when his face is between my legs. I graze his lips with my knuckles when I pull the catsuit fabric to the side and he groans. He’s close enough to feel the heat of my core, to smell my excitement. He’s staring at my pussy like he wants to devour it. But I want to indulge myself first.

“I want to see your cock.”

“Huh?” He tears his gaze away from my sex and he looks me in the eye. His eyelids are heavy, and his pupils are blown like he’s drunk with lust.

“Take out your cock so I can see it.” I enunciate the words extra carefully.

“Really? That’s what you want?”

“It’s not all I want, but it’s a start.”

“Alright,” he says and rushes to comply. He fumbles as he finds a zipper opening that allows him to fit his thick erection through it. He looks up at me when he’s done it, like he’s waiting for a passing grade. I nod.

I love how obscene he looks on the floor with his hard dick out and leaking. He reaches to touch himself, but I stop him with my foot against his wrist.

“No touching yourself yet. You’ve got a job to do.”

He makes a frustrated noise but lowers his hand.

“Good boy,” I say, and the heat in his eyes flares. “Now make me come.”

I run my fingers through his hair and swing my leg over the softened ridges of his shoulders. He grunts and waits for what’s next. I answer by pulling his head to my pussy. His moan vibrates through my folds, and then he slides his tongue to my slit.

“That’s right,” I say, grinding into his lips to get some extra friction.

“Mmmmm,” he responds and grabs my ass to pull me closer so there’s barely room to breathe between his mouth and my body. I grind against him again and he makes another happy sound. So, I keep doing it. Ahhhh, it’s so good. Markas is so good. I watch his expression as he licks into me. All I see there is pleasure, bliss even. Like there’s nowhere in the galaxy he’d rather be than buried in my cunt.

My brain tries to tell me to be careful, to remember how he lied to me. But I ignore that voice. Something deeper, more primal, tells me this is Markas’ true self: the man giving everything he has to get me off, and getting off on doing it.

Markas’ cock is a deep, fiery red now. It’s rock-hard and weeping against his belly. I think he might come just from having me fuck his face, and I love that about him. I love him? No, that’s impossible.

I push against him, and he slides his long tongue into me, stiffening it so I can feel the penetration. It feels amazing, but I can’t help thinking of his cock and how that would feel too. I want him deep inside me, leaving no part untouched.

I must have stopped moving because he grips my ass and pulls me back in, keeping me anchored against his face so I can’t avoid the pleasure. It feels almost sharp now, relentlessly building from the place where’ we’re joined. And Markas keeps going, like he senses the build and will do everything in his power to push me higher.

I’m making all sorts of embarrassing noises. Markas is relentless the whole time, never letting his grip on my ass falter. I slide my fingers through the soft strands of his hair, reflexively grabbing and pulling. And he moans like I’ve given him a wonderful gift.

“I can’t take any more, Markas, I can’t.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

As soon as he finishes saying it, he sucks my clit into his mouth and suckles like it will give him life. And I shatter into a million pieces, coming so hard that I wonder if The Excelsior has hit an asteroid and not caring if it has.