Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I don't even know her name. I'm sure they told me, but I'm also sure I wasn't listening. It's probably something soft-sounding, something sweet and gentle like her. I've never been around a human before, but I've heard all kinds of things through the rumor mill, and all of them are filthy. I think of the human's haunting, delicate face and sad eyes…and her fascinating mouth. It's a shade between pink and brown that I've never seen before, and it shouldn't transfix me as much as it does.
I think about that mouth, and how she sniped at me for not feeding her. I think about her sharp words—so strange coming from one as soft as her—and then how her voice turned achingly sweet as her pet approached.
She'd touched my chest. Moved close to me and looked up at me with dark eyes that snapped fire even though her tone was nothing but honey.
With a groan, I grab my cock.
It's been a long keffing time since I've stroked myself, and I use my good hand to grip my cock carefully, avoiding the piercings, and work my shaft. I squeeze and stroke roughly, and it doesn't take long for me to come, my seed splattering on the tile as I gasp out my release. I think of her face the entire time, and wonder how it would look with my spend sprinkled over that pink-brown mouth and probably equally pink-brown tongue…
The breath hisses from my throat as I squeeze out another spurt of semen, working the head of my cock, and then I'm spent.
Now that I'm done, I feel…ashamed. I jerked off to a human that clearly thinks I'm revolting and wants nothing to do with me. I can't blame her—no one wants a half-metal curmudgeon whose head is filled with war nonsense. I finish washing with brisk, almost brutal motions, and head back to my quarters, naked. My clothing is too filthy to put back on, so I'll dig something new out.
And then I'll get back to work, because my head's too full of nonsense and I know my dreams won't be pleasant.
12
SOPHIE
I wake up to the sound of moaning, and bolt upright in bed.
Clutching the thin blankets to my chest, I look around, my skin prickling. Is this place…haunted? I mean, sure, it's creepy and abandoned and some of the lights flicker, but it's in space. When I think of space, I don't think of ghosts. To me, this asteroid is more like an abandoned broken-down station or a junkyard.
But then the moan rises again, echoing off the metal walls. I look over at Sleipnir. The carinoux watches me with big, glowing eyes. Either he doesn't believe in ghosts, either, or it's all in my head. Worried, I look around my room and start to lie down again.
The moment I do, I hear another pained groan, and Sleipnir's ears twitch.
Okay, that no longer sounds like a ghost. It sounds like my asshole host, Jerrok the Jerk. But why is he moaning in the middle of the night? I look around my room. It's hard to tell timeframes in space, but I have the lighting in the room set to establish a twenty-four-hour day. That means that the lights gradually come on at around seven in the morning and get gradually dark after ten at night. The fact that it's still pitch black in here tells me that it's night. So…what gives?
I get to my feet and pull on a heavier tunic over my sleep shirt, one of Adiron's old ones that I cut down the front to act as a robe. With a touch, I turn the lights on, and they flicker and stutter before brightening, which doesn't help my already creeped out mood. I pad down the chilly hall, comforted by the fact that Sleipnir's at my heels. He's not panicking, so I don't, either. As I turn a corner, the moan rips through the halls again.
Jesus, it sounds like the man's being tortured. Worried, I head toward the last room that I saw Jerrok in. His work area is empty, the lights still on and some of the equipment still humming with energy. I look for switches and flick them off as I move through the room, waiting for another moan to lead me in his direction. Sure enough, he moans again, louder this time, and I could swear I hear words.
"No…no…"
A nightmare, then. I turn in the direction of the noise and notice a door panel I hadn't seen before. "Come on, Sleipnir," I whisper.
I tiptoe down the new hall, trying not to notice that it's dark and cluttered. At the far end, there's a room with an open door (probably broken, just like everything else on this station) and in the gloom, I can just barely make out a figure lying on a bed. Jerrok. As I step into his room, I notice it's much, much smaller than my own…and that it's clean of the incessant junk that seems to cover every other inch of the station. The bed seems to be the only important thing in here, other than what look like a few weapons neatly arranged on the walls.