28. THALIA

“The ships must eventually get broken down entirely for parts and for scrap,” Ahane said, half to himself, until his voice trailed off into the realm of unspoken thoughts.

I waited.

And waited.

“You’re ruminating,” I said after a solid ten minutes of him frowning to himself.

“Room-in-a-ting?” He cocked his head to the side as the translator gave him some lesson. “Yes. I am sitting in a room. Why not just say I am sitting in a room? Why have a long word for it?”

“Ah…”

Ahane glowered. “Humans have one word with ten meanings, and ten words with one meaning.”

I snickered. “It means you’re thinking deeply about something. Or chewing cud.”

He sighed deeply, looked at the ceiling to plea to some unknown god for patience, and said, “It’s not even worth getting frustrated any longer.”

“You were going to tell me about whatever you were ruminating on.”

“Nothing particular except I know someone who hauls scrap. He would never be caught dead in a place like this, and he doesn’t take illegitimate cargo. He knows he might be hauling cargo that’s questionable. He would still be crushed to learn this is where it came from.” Ahane cursed under his breath. [EXTREME VULGARITY]

The big red guy and I exchanged a long, somewhat uncomfortable look.

Shit.

The Site Master wasn’t doing anything illegal. People sold their soul to the Cockroach Devil fair and square. People set foot on the slippery slope with a plain view of everyone else.

We fed them along the way.

Ahane’s tail swished back and forth, the tip changing shapes, while his scales perfectly reflected how gross this was.

I finally squished the dough of feelings into words. “I wouldn’t care if the Site Master cut them off before they were stuck here. That’s him collecting the idiot tax from people stupid enough to pawn parts off their ship for gambling money. But this is like a bartender who keeps pouring for an obliterated patron. At that point, you have some personal responsibility to not hand a match to the guy soaked in oil.”

Ahane’s tail stopped swishing. “Precisely.”

“So what do we do?” That was a rhetorical question. There was also a saying don’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.

“I am not leaving the shuttle behind for the Site Master to have salvage rights.”

“Fuck that bug. No way.”

Ahane flickered and inhaled.

“What? What did I say?”

“You called the Site Master a [PROFOUND SLUR].”

“…a bug?”

Ahane nodded.

“Oh.” My eyebrows made for my hairline. “Ohhhh. Oh. Ohhhh…”

“Never refer to articulateds by that word. You may refer to actual insects by that word, but not articulateds.”

“What about ‘cockroach’?”

“Cock… roach?” He looked down at his crotch, then ran a hand over his hair in the weirdest version of rub your tummy, pat your head ever. “As in a cock, and roach? You mean a curved cock? Or an erect cock?”

I queried my translator of roach, and it came up with bug. I poked it again, and it supplied additional more obscure meanings: to shave a horse’s mane so it stood up, a convex curve usually in a spine or sail, or a style of hair. There were also even more obscure meanings, like a roach was what some fishes were called and some others that got labeled as archaic/unconfirmed.

“Um… no…” I said, still trying to baffle through all the weird meanings. “A cockroach is a bug on Earth.”

He full-body sighed.

I had to sigh with him on this one. “Maybe the most we can do is give them food.”

Ahane nodded, murky and thoughtful, gaze on the airlock door, attention on the shuttle in the hangar beyond it, planning where he would go from here.

“How far is it from being repaired?” My insides sunk in a giant wad. Would he leave before me?

Ahane had to get back to the space commandos and fucking up Greys, and there was nowhere for a Human in the Gestalt.

“The damage doesn’t seem to be that bad,” he said, voice far away. “I will need to fabricate a few parts. Or win them.”

He gave me the side-eye.

If he was asking my permission to go back to the casino… “That depends. Can you win them? Because you lost money, and seemed to be playing honestly.”

“I was being honest. Honest in that I wasn’t playing to win.”

“Did you shark them?” I asked.

He sighed. “What does that mean? Because I do not think it means an ancient apex predator.”

“It sort of means that. A pool shark is someone who acts like they don’t know what they’re doing so that everyone will bet big and think they’re going to get an easy win. Then the shark beats them and takes their money.”

“I did not take anyone’s money.”

“You did. And then you lost it.”

“Intentionally. I wanted to be approached.”

“So you’re good at that game?”

“It’s a very popular game in the Gestalt.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I am passable.”

“Drop the I’m the plain brother bullshit.”

He practically squirmed with embarrassment. He mumbled something.

“I can’t hear you.” I gave him a kick in the ankle. I didn’t have a tail, so my toes would have to do.

“I grew up playing in a family of very good players.”

That plain brother bullshit in full effect. Was Ahane not allowed to be good at the game? Was he not told he was good (even if he was) because his brothers were better? “Which means what?”

“That if I ever get home and have to tell them I lost to the competition out here, I will have to turn around and come back.” His scales held a hint of humor and there was a glint of shy mischief in his gaze.

I laughed. His tail slid around my ankle and over the joint to tease the bottom of my calf. I obliged by taking a step as his tail crept a little higher. “I’m fine with you sharking them for fun, parts, and profit on one condition. Well, two.”

He finished pulling me so I was tucked against him. Bastard just liked me to look up at him. His tail kept sliding up my calf towards the back of my knee. “Those being?”

“We don’t make deals with the Site Master.”

“Of course.”

“And you don’t prey on desperate players.”

“How am I to know who is desperate and who is not?”

“You can just tell.”

“Perhaps you can.”

“Not with this Humans are psychic thing again. No regulars.”

“How do we know that the ones who come and go aren’t also desperate?” Ahane asked reasonably. “Desperation has many sources and many forms.”

I sighed.

“You will come with me,” Ahane tugged, “and tell me who is desperate and who is not. We will play for parts. And once we have parts, we can keep playing and make sure the truly desperate leave a little less desperate.”

I brightened all over. “You mean… go all Robin Hood?”

“You know I have no idea what that means.”

“Robin Hood is a really old Human legend. It’s about a man who comes back from serving in a war to find that the corrupt king has stolen all his land and wealth while he was gone. So he decides to use his skills to become a great thief, except he only steals from the rich so he can give to the poor.”

“That sounds like exactly what we should do.”

“Yay!” I threw my arms around his neck and hauled myself up to kiss him firmly on the lips. He gave me a little leg up with his tail, then grabbed a handful of ass.

“But if they run right back into the Site Master”s feelers, I will make things worse for them,” he murmured.

“Fair.”

“So help me choose well. I win the game. You pick the players.”

Whatever. “So I get to tell you if you get to win or lose?”

“Yes.”

“You better be obedient.” I purred, nudging his crotch with my knee. “And do as you’re told.”

His scales flushed and raced like burning clouds and his cock instantly throbbed under the pressure from my knee. “You didn’t mind so much last time.”

“I excused it because you tried so hard not to cum. You tried so hard. I know you won’t try as hard in the future.”

His cock swelled more. But he stayed my knee. “I have a question.”

“I might have an answer.”

“What is the custom to earn your pleasure?”

“Meaning what?”

“Your pleasure. You would not permit me to touch you as you touch me. You touched yourself in the shuttle, but I know you were doing it to excite me, not yourself. Yet, it seemed you very much wanted something for yourself. Why didn’t you let yourself have it? What is the custom?”

He didn’t say it in an accusatory way, just a simple, innocent inquiry about what prerequisites there were to unlocking the Human pussy box.

Cue panicked internal screaming. “Um…”

“Do you never intend to let me?” He sounded very skeptical. “I do not think I would like that. That is not the arrangement I was looking for.”

I stared at him while my brain spun around in panic.

Fuck, Thalia, you REALLY didn’t think this through when you said ‘yes’ did you?

“I’m shy,” I blurted out.

His scales darkened. “That is a pathetic lie. You are not shy. If I’m not good enough to?—”

“No, no! You are good enough. It’s me.”

He settled and waited for his explanation.

And he was going to wait.

Goddamn stubborn living ruby.

I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m kind of shy about it. I’ve had some Human guys say some things that I know shouldn’t have gotten to me but they did.”

“Like what?” He cocked his head.

“You know how you say you’re plain? I’m not considered very pretty… down there.”

His expression clearly conveyed he thought this conversation had just taken a turn for the outrageously stupid. “You are beautiful. There are many delicate shades of color and your folds—I do not know the correct Human term—are so delicate and complex. I love looking at you. There is always something I have not seen before.”

“Not sure if that’s something a Human would like to hear, but I’ll go with it,” I said.

“You say you enjoy looking at my scales because the patterns blend into each other. I enjoy looking at the infinite subtle variations of your body. It is not a privilege that you share with anyone but your most trusted partner. I understand it’s hard for Humans to trust new partners and you have to be very, very selective and careful.”

That and… “The Greys. A lot of what happened involved my bits.”

His colors softened into a silky, sad shade.

“But I want to trust you.” I did want to. And I needed to, because I was not going to get back to Earth (or wherever I ended up when we parted ways) and regret not riding the big red ride. And said big red bus was leaving the station. If he stuck around, it’d be because of the big sad on his scales, and I was not interested in pity fucks or whatever the equivalent would be.

Crash and burn? Fuck it, I took off and maybe flew a bit. “Except one thing I’m going to ask you make sure not to do.”

“I will not do this one thing. I give you my word.”

“Please please please do not ask me questions. Like do you like it or what does that feel like. He always asked and for all the wrong damn reasons. I don’t want any ‘check-ins’ or is this okay or do you like this. None of that. I’ll tell you what I want or don’t want.”

A mischievous, wicked smirk. “You already do that. And do I not do as told?”

“And you like it. Don’t try to lie.” I gave him a gentle swat on the shoulder.

He scooped a handful of my ass with one big palm. “So no questions. Only statements. Like the statement I am enjoying holding you, and I would like to hold the other side, and gently part them so my tail can tease your butthole.”

Prince Red did not mess around when it came to messing around. Although we needed to have a conversation about “butthole.” But points for effort. “Ass is the last frontier, big guy. You’ve got to earn that.”