CollisionWithParadise (12 page)

“You’re wrong, my love.” He gently took her face in his hands, cock stirring and finding its way between her thighs. “I
did
know. And I forgave you long ago.” He kissed her on the forehead and stroked her hair with a tender reverence he’d never before displayed. But someone else did, someone with an unusual fascination for the hair on her head… Her eyes snapped open with excitement and she saw that Dan
was morphing in front of her eyes into
him
! And the cock tucked between her legs was swelling to match.

“Genevieve,” Azaes continued in a lyrical voice, lips brushing hers in rapt desire. “You are free. We are all part of an arcane fractal existence, an autopoietic fabric spun from the spin networks of granular space and time to our growing and breathing galaxies. Genevieve, we are all made of the same material. We are all driven by the same force. And it is not what you think it is.”

Then he seized her passionately in his great arms, sending them into a giddy roll. She opened her thighs to him, revealing her moist vagina, vibrating with the flow of wet heat. Her body undulated over his massive cock, teasing it even larger, directing it over her swelling labia and her gaping hole. His mouth closed over hers and his penis thrust fiercely inside. She wrapped her legs high around his firm
buttocks and pulled him further inside. He swelled into her deepness and filled her with the universe.

She cried, like she had never cried before. The sobs shook her with such violence that Azaes could barely hold on and they spun into dizzy circles. She cried like a baby as he stroked her hair. And it felt so good…

She awoke drowsily, tongue thick in her mouth, with the queer sensation that she was floating. As she blinked the sleep out of her eyes she saw that she was immersed and indeed floating vertically in a greenish fluid. No, not floating exactly, because the fluid totally supported her, and she could breathe normally through some kind of device attached somehow to her nose and mouth. Ahead of her, she could just make out a huge jade crystal form, with large hexagonal cylinders extending out of a base about two meters in diameter.

She was naked and not alone!

Someone touched her. It was Azaes. He stood next to her, without a breathing device, also naked, except for a long prismatic crystal that hung from his neck…and, oh, how large his penis was! Just like in her dream. Flaccidly relaxed and hanging between muscular thighs, it was a magnificent piece of manly architecture, attached to a strong fit body.

Azaes massaged her body with long slender fingers and the palms of his hands. She felt strengthened and noticed that her leg was mostly mended.

Seeing that she’d awoken, he stopped briefly and cocked his head sideways with a warm smile. He seemed to say in her mind, “Don’t be afraid. I’m a healing facilitator.” He impressed upon her mind that he was using a technique that relied on pressure points to stimulate her body to heal itself. Then, with a nod, as if content that she both understood and assented, he continued.

Before she had a chance to mentally react, his massaging strokes summoned a physical reaction from her that was both painful and wonderful. A kind of exquisite agony travelled from one end of her body to the other and seemed to explode from inside of her, then compress down upon her in undulating waves. She wanted him to stop and continue at the same time and found herself moaning. Again, like before, just as she was about to feel awkward and embarrassed by her reaction, he brushed his leg against her and his slender fingers slid over her abdomen. She flinched as an unsettling excitement stirred inside her. Before she knew it, the memory of her dream of his wild lovemaking flashed through her like lightening, and her whole body surged with a sharp thrill.

Overwhelmed by a sudden compulsion, she thrust out her pelvis. She captured his leg between her thighs and moved rhythmically over him, sending waves of lust flushing over her face.

Azaes abruptly stopped his massaging and stared. For a brief moment he looked frightened, then entranced by her overture. Seeing his receptive expression and dilated eyes, she seized his strong shoulders and pressed her body against his and felt his large penis firm deliciously against her abdomen. His eyes blazed with a powerful desire and his huge cock, now hard and swollen, sought her vagina, wet and longing for company—

Then his face clouded with—was it contempt? He jerked away from her and to her great mortification, swam up out of sight without further acknowledgment.

As if snapped out of a trance, she felt sudden and extreme shame and her face burned fiercely. How could she have succumbed to an urge like that? She’d behaved like a slut! With a stranger. An
alien
, for God sake! But his touch had awoken something compellingly and deeply erotic in her. She couldn’t help herself. It was as though she’d entered her dream and needed to enact it to its natural conclusion.

Oh, God! Am I that far gone?

For the first time she contemplated escape. But before she could go very far with those thoughts, she felt them break up and wander off into darkness…No!
No!
She fought off the slide into the darkness, then fell.

Chapter Twelve

Genevieve let her eyes flutter open drowsily with a long sigh. As she focused on her surroundings, she realized that she was lying in a very comfortable bed in a sun-lit room—wait, not exactly a bed. Not a conventional bed with a mattress, sheets and a blanket. This bed was more like a… well, a cocoon. As she stroked the strange material slowly, she reluctantly concluded that it was alive somehow. Following a sudden urge to get out, she struggled to no avail. As comfortable as it was, the creepy cocoon thing didn’t give way.

Genevieve’s quick scan revealed that the room was made of similar materials. Perhaps
grown
was more apt. Rays of soft evening sun streamed through the mostly translucent walls, which resembled the membranous wings of a dragon-fly. The ceiling, made of similar membranes, was darker, as if naturally tinted. A table and two chairs appeared as though they’d sprouted from the floor, itself made of a smooth peach-coloured substance.

Was Azaes holding her prisoner? And, if so, why had he gone to the trouble of healing her? Then her thoughts slid to her incredibly undiplomatic
faux pas
. God! What had she done? Even now she felt her face heat at her foolish and forward action. Good God, if she hadn’t had those erotic dreams of him, she wouldn’t have been so forward. It was as though she and he had been lovers already. But he didn’t know that. If only she could undo it all. And yet, the way Azaes had touched her had been so…sexual. He’d explained that he was healing her. Perhaps she’d imagined he’d said that. She hadn’t heard him speak it, after all. Perhaps all those previous times she’d heard him speak English in her head, she’d imagined it too. So, what
had
he been doing, then? She certainly felt much better now, and had to admit that what he’d done had felt exhilarating.

Interesting how he’d looked exactly as he had in Zac’s dream…No, she amended,
her
dream. Those last several times she’d dreamt of Azaes, Zac was already dead. It was
her
. She’d imagined it all. Zac hadn’t lied to her after all. But, how could she have imagined Azaes’s naked body so accurately? She’d only seen him fully clothed.

Her thoughts ceased when the door opened and the target of her musings entered. Azaes, dressed in a long robe, sauntered into the room as though it belonged to him, head turned only slightly to give her a sideways look of obvious contempt. It shocked her and plunged her into renewed shame for her abominably lustful action. This was the real Azaes. Arrogant, stand-offish and haughty. Why had she imagined him so tender in her dreams? But he
had
been tender to her: when he’d first rescued her after her fall from the ship and during his healing performance.

He certainly wasn’t looking tender now. Azaes paced the floor, glaring at her and mumbling, “
su
neehat mo legglis
…
su
neehat mo legglis
…”

She tried to smile at him in truce and wished she could apologize for her stupid and rude actions. It struck her suddenly that she might have enacted some terrible cultural taboo with her pitiful seduction attempt. God! It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She wasn’t even supposed to be here. Some ambassador she was…She’d once hubristically entertained thoughts of doing a better job than the pompous and narrow-minded Mission Commander Bragg, but now she was eating humble pie big time.

Azaes shuffled his feet. He looked distraught, as though warring inside his mind with a decision. After several hesitations, he practically lurched forward to the
bed
she was lying in. She shrank back, briefly frightened by his glare. He blinked and after a long sigh, she heard his voice in her mind, “I apologize for my state of undress earlier. I understood that you preferred to remain undressed and felt comfortable in your nudity as we Eosians are…”

How had he gathered that fallacy? In all the vids they’d exchanged, humans had always been dressed and Azaes had always presented himself dressed, indicating that he knew of human’s inclination to cover up. Her peculiar habit of undress only occurred on the ship from
jacking
and she’d never communicated with Eos during her voyage here.

“I just need to examine your state of health,” he continued. “You incurred many internal injuries and I need to determine their state of reconstruction. Please do not be afraid. The closest word you have to describing what I am is a
doctor
. I am much more than that, but that mundane description will suffice.”

He certainly wasn’t humble, Genevieve thought. Then again, he had every reason not to be, she thought, summoning the image of his magnificent naked body and Olympian cock beneath the robe.

He spoke several words in Eosian and abruptly the
bed
peeled back its covers, revealing her naked body.

Blushing furiously, she flung her arms over her breasts, turned sideways with humility, and brought up her knees.

He frowned, lips drawn tight, and shook his head impatiently. “I need to examine you,” he repeated rather gruffly in Eosian, translated in her mind. “Please lie still, stretch out on your back as you were and relax.”

Against her inclination, Genevieve took a deep breath and willed herself to relax, forcing her arms to her sides and legs down. Apparently satisfied, he leaned forward to touch her, hands poised over her face, and his robe falling open. She felt her heart pumping in her throat, not sure whether it was from the magnificent view or the anticipation of his touch. From his impatient and brusque manner, she fully expected his hands to be equally gruff and braced herself even as she thought:
why am I letting him do this?

But his fingers alighted on her cheeks like feathers. She inhaled sharply. His touch, like before, was electrifying, and sent a thrill coursing through her whole body. It was like magic and she felt entranced. Their eyes met briefly and she was shocked at the depth of tenderness in his. The angry scowl had vanished and she saw, inside his deep sea-green eyes, a compassion that hitched her breath. He too, was breathing in shallow, rapid breaths as he stroked her hair, obviously enthralled. Was
that
part of his diagnostic assessment? It looked and felt more like a compulsive action. Either way, it felt wonderful and she caught a glimpse of his huge purple penis stirring, as her eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy.

He ran his hands along her entire body, in a continual caress, from head to tingling toes, over her breasts, heaving with escalating breaths, past her taut nipples, down along her waist and abdomen, fingers spreading out to her thighs…Oh, dear God!…thumbs sliding hesitantly over her nether hairs..

Heart suddenly pulsing in her crotch, she thought,
am I being violated
? She couldn’t tell. She didn’t care. The feeling was too electric. Too alive. The ache too vibrant. By the time he’d reached her toes, involuntarily flexing in their own exhilaration, she was careering to nirvana with a low guttural moan.

His hands abruptly left her. The shock of losing the connection to his energy made her gasp, and her face heated with sudden embarrassment.

“Ahh,” he responded, looking rather flustered and bringing his robe about him to cover himself. “
Ma poyet
,” he said and she heard, “I’m sorry,” in her mind, although the tone of his voice sounded anything but apologetic. “I pulled away too quickly,” he continued in translated Eosian. “A skilled healer would never have done that. But you were entering that place again…” He broke off, abruptly shook his head, disgust obvious on his face. Then with a short command for the bed to close back over her, he muttered, “You are healing nicely,” and quickly left the room, robe flying out behind him.

Pure dismay washed over her, taking what good feelings she’d had and dashing them like an ocean surf against a rocky shore.

Her remorse and shame were soon supplanted by frustration and growing anger. He’d saved her life, obviously. But he was being very rude about it. How could he have ever been the subject of her erotic dreams? For all his healing abilities, Azaes was an arrogant bastard, she concluded.

She struggled again to slide out of the living bed, which was the best way to describe the creepy cocoon-like creature she was trapped in. But her arms were pinned underneath and it wouldn’t budge. As soft as it felt, the membranous material seemed as strong as Kevlar.