gleamed in the shadowed sunlight, pale silver slicked with mercury, the light following the lines of his body, as did my tongue. I tasted him all over, my hands wandering over each line and curve. Funny how after all this time I still couldn't wait to touch him, and each time was as good as the first. He's all soft compliance in bed, my Tiff. Probably because he could kill me in one swift motion. It was a bit daunting, making love to a man you knew had personally killed at least thirty people in hand-to-hand combat. He's a warrior, a weapon of flesh and bone. He could snap my neck without a thought and there's nothing I could do to defend myself. But all I have to do is touch him and he melts. His eyes glaze over and close, and he opens himself up to me like a demure concubine giving his master his due. I don't know why he lets me have him. But I'm damned glad he does. I settled over him and pushed myself deep into his perfect, gleaming body, and we began to make love in the misting rain.
Shahira stepped out of the woods like some great lethal bird, almost seven feet tall and clad in black, scarlet and gold. He paused briefly to pick something off his coat, and cast me a disdainful look that let me know just precisely what he thought about some meager Earth scientist fucking one of His Imperial Majesty's most decorated veterans.
"Tiff, when you're done with the monkey we really do need to address the situation with the radio; it's just not working."
He then strutted away, fourteen hundred years' worth of breeding and bloodlines, death crafted into art and made flesh to guard the royal family. What I wouldn't give to just once see him break an ankle.
"Sebastian?" said Tiff quietly.
"Hmm?"
"You stopped."
"Oh. Sorry."
∗ ∗ ∗
The only way to live on Sferkkaa and not know who Draephus and his friends are is to be born deaf and blind and live your entire life in a cave. They are, quite frankly, the biggest thing on the planet, war heroes as well as musicians, making them almost god-like on a planet that venerates both. Out of all of Draephus' esteemed companions, I've only met one - his lover Raski. He's like a Chihuahua on speed. He makes me nervous and all I have to do is hear his name. He showed up here at the base once because he used to be a pilot stationed here. I like Raski, I do, but it's exhausting being around him. I don't know what he's like at home, but here, so close to the place where he was once injured so badly that he died and doctors had to drag him screaming back to life, he's an absolute hyper wreck. I can't be around him because he gives me an anxiety attack, and he hates me because I once scared the crap out of him.
In all fairness, Raski is beautiful. He's honestly one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen. He's South Continental, so he has that striking black skin, and I do mean black . No shades of brown at all to warm it. Just hematite black layered over slate to form a color that looks like you could put your hand in it. His hair is black, too, gleaming silvery black, hanging in a long waterfall down his back. And that was how I first saw him: from the back, wearing his uniform, talking to Tiff.
"Oh Sebastian! There you are! I'd like you to meet Raski. He used to be stationed here."
So there I am, all pleased to have a chance to show off my fine Sferkkaan manners that I just learned, and Raski turns around and he's got these FREAKY BLUE EYES THAT GLOW IN THE LOW LIGHT!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
I have since learned that the pale blue eyes are a logical adaptation to life in a jungle that is really quite dark. The human eye lens is smooth and... well... lens-like. The lens of the South Continent Sferkkaan is actually made up of tens of thousands little reflective surfaces that catch the light, refract and re-reflect it, and enable them to see better in the dark. Pale blue reflects light, whereas dark lenses would absorb the light. What this all boils down to is, stick Raski Jervyas in a