Fugitive (21 page)

   "No women since then?"

   "Yes," Manx replied, "but none that were anything like you." The look in his eyes was enough to assure her that he meant that from the bottom of his heart.

   "I could say the same for the men in my life," Drusilla agreed. Since her lovers had all been human, this wasn't surprising. Experimentally, she pushed his cock sideways and it stood right back up again like a punching bag. "And you have to smell my desire for it to get hard?"

   "Yes," Manx replied. "And believe me, you smell better than anything I've ever
dreamed
of."

   "It was plenty hard that night when you were out on the beach," she pointed out. "Are you saying you could smell me from that distance?"

   "Mm-hm," Manx purred. "It was fabulous."

   She was still gazing longingly at his groin, thinking about the way it had felt inside her— "But what about the orgasms? It wouldn't do that to me just because of the shape, would it?" If that was the case, there would have been dildos made in a similar form long ago, and while Drusilla hadn't made a study of such things, she knew she'd never seen one quite like it.

   "The shape has less to do with it than you might think," he said. He pulsed it again, causing more fluid to flow from the head. "Taste it."

   "Yeah,
right,"
Drusilla said witheringly. "Most guys will say anything to get a girl to suck their dick."

   "No, really," Manx protested. "You don't have to suck it. Just taste it."

   Cocking her head to eye him suspiciously, Drusilla grumbled, "Well, okay. Just one taste."

   Drusilla leaned down to lick the clear fluid from his cock, and then backed off. It was essentially tasteless, she noted, other than being slightly salty—which was just like that of a human male's but— "Oh, wow!" she exclaimed as the fluid took effect, triggering the kind of orgasm that normally took quite a bit of time and effort to achieve—though upon further reflection, Drusilla decided that this was even better than the usual sort.

   Manx laughed out loud. "And you thought I was lying!"

   "Not really," she managed to gasp. "I just thought it would take more than that."

   "Oh, well, if you really want to do more than just taste it, be my guest," he said amiably. "I won't try to stop you. Just the feel of your tongue on me nearly sent me over the edge, and watching you suck me would… well… "

   Gazing at the most spectacular male animal she'd ever beheld lying cock up on her bed stirred the beast in Drusilla once more and she pounced on him, sucking that big, hard cock like it was made of candy—which it seemed to be, except that his fluids had a more potent effect than any chocolate she'd ever tasted.

   Manx was passive at first, but then, to Drusilla's delight, groaned and thrust his hips up, sending his cock even deeper into her mouth. Growling, she wrapped her fingers around his balls, reaching underneath him to encourage him to do even more. Then she got up on her knees to get at him better, and Manx took the opportu nity to pull her on top of him with her sweet center right in his face.

   She smelled as if she was on fire, and Manx fought to hold back his own climax. Not yet, he told himself fiercely. Not until I'm done with her. He tried to ignore her lips on his cock while he plunged his tongue into the source of her desire, the taste of which drove him wilder still. With a buttock gripped in each hand, he held her while he circled her clitoris with the tip of his tongue and sucked it the way she was sucking his cock. At last he got what he'd been waiting for: the scream erupting from her throat and the pulsation of her clitoris in his mouth. Then he let himself come, feeling the ecstasy of release as he filled her with his creamy snard and then waited for her to realize what else Zetithians were noted for.

   Drusilla's body was still contracting spasmodically in the longest orgasm of her life when Manx spurted in her mouth. His semen was amazingly sweet, and she savored it on her tongue before letting go of him to swallow it. Seconds later, she felt that same euphoric warmth suffuse her entire being. Unable even to hold herself up any longer, she sighed deeply, relaxing on him with her head pillowed on his inner thigh. His testicles were well within range of her tongue and, as his soft hair tickled her cheek, she licked his nuts lazily, engulfed in a cloud of bliss even more profound than it had been the first time. Manx's cock lay stretched out across his stomach and she watched as it relaxed, the points of the corona seeming to shrink before the head disappeared inside his foreskin.

   Who was this man that could come into her life and change it so completely? She'd never lain on top of a man and nibbled his nuts in her entire life—had never even thought of doing it before—but now, it seemed like the most fulfilling pastime she could imagine, unless it was actually fucking him. He was like one of those drugs that hook you with the first high, only he wasn't a drug; he was a living, breathing man whom Drusilla suspected she now wouldn't be able to live without. She would put up with damn near anything for the distinct honor and privilege of sucking his dick. How
very
odd…

   But with Manx, she didn't see that she'd have anything bad to put up with at all—unless it was continuous sex. He was pure gold, manna from heaven, and love itself. And she'd found him here, out in the middle of nowhere on a planet so remote that she'd never even heard of it before. Manx was right; it was destiny. It had to be. And she vowed to let nothing come between her and that destiny. Being with Manx was an awakening of the spirit, a new lease on life; just breathing in the air that surrounded him made her feel more alive and joyous. If only she could capture that feeling on canvas, she could truly call herself an artist.

   Art. That was why she was on Barada Seven. She had to paint—it was what Ralph had sent her there for. But how was she ever going to get any work done with a distraction like Manx around?

   Simple, she told herself. I'll just paint
him.

   Of course, Drusilla's next thought had her laughing uncontrollably.

   "What's so funny?" Manx murmured. She was lying on top of him, licking his balls with her ass in his face. He didn't think there was anything funny about that at all—although he did like the way it felt to have her laughing when she was in that position.

   It was a moment before Drusilla could refrain from giggling long enough to reply. "I was just thinking about doing some paintings of you—starting with a close-up view of
this,
" she said, giving his cock a squeeze.

   "If you were that close, I don't think you'd feel much like painting," Manx pointed out. "At least, I
hope you wouldn't."

   Drusilla nodded. "I'd have to take a picture of it and do the painting from that," she agreed. "Though I don't like to paint from photographs, as a rule. I get too technical, and they don't turn out as well as when I paint from life. It's something about the setting and the movement—an impression I get from being near something to study it and learn its ways… that sort of thing."

   "You need to experience it," said Manx. "It's like the way I feel about you. A picture of you wouldn't have the same effect. It's your entire
being
that's attractive, not just your appearance."

   Drusilla smiled at this sentiment but knew there were other things to attend to. "Yes, and I need to be experi
encing more of the birds around here, or Ralph is gonna kil
l me. In fact, there were some humdingers out there in the lake when I woke up this morning, which I should be out there painting right now. I've never seen birds that color before in my life—and trust me, I've seen a lot of birds!"

   "You mean the blue ones?"

   "Maybe, but these were actually more of an aqua— well, I guess there are some parrots that are close to being that color, but not quite. They were absolutely beautiful."

   Drusilla sighed, thinking how she'd always had such a passion for birds—a passion that now seemed to have been transferred to Manx. She wasn't sure she could do him justice, however. She was a competent portrait artist but had never really cared for it—perhaps because the birds didn't distract her with attempts at conversation. People tended to do that—out of boredom, perhaps—while Manx, on the other hand, would distract her without ever saying a word. She might have to paint him from memory in order to get anything accomplished.

   Memorizing every last bit of Manx would certainly be an enjoyable pastime. Gazing at his eyes would be a source of endless pleasure—her own eyes might have been compared to jade, but his reminded her of glowing emeralds—and she even considered his feet to be worthy of artistic interpretation.

***

Manx lay quietly, wondering if there was anything he could do to help her out. He'd seen many birds deep in the jungle that didn't come to the lake. Perhaps he could catch some of them for her—alive, of course, for Drusilla probably wouldn't enjoy painting pictures of dead birds—and make a cage for them. He was going over the cage design in his mind when he suddenly realized that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. It was a different way of thinking for him—not that he'd ever been particularly selfish—it was simply due to the fact that he'd had only himself to look after for such a long time. The more he reflected upon it, the more he liked the idea. It made him feel useful and needed—which was another thing your average fugi tive didn't get to experience on a regular basis.

   And useful was something Manx felt he needed to be for Drusilla—if he ever expected her to take him with her when she left Barada Seven. Sexual attraction might not be enough. She needed to truly love him, and he needed to become not merely appealing, but indispens able to her.

   Of course, Zetithian males excelled at that. Their own women were highly independent and largely indif ferent to males—until they were enticed to the point of desire. Then, and only then, could a man make his move, binding her to him for life.

   Being bound to Drusilla for life appealed to Manx— which was a good thing since it had probably already occurred—so he knew he'd best be getting some birds for her.

   Since this decision prompted him to get out of bed while Drusilla was lying there trying to commit every square centimeter of him to memory, Drusilla, under standably, couldn't follow his logic.

   "Where do you think you're going?"

   Manx looked at her blankly. "To build a cage and catch some birds," he replied. "Where did you think I was going?"

   "Right now?"

   "Well, why not?"

   "I was memorizing you," she replied. "So I can do a painting of you."

   "I thought you needed to paint birds," he said. "There are some in the jungle you've never seen. They're very hard to catch, too. Might take me a while."

   Drusilla just sat up, gaping at him. Men were so strange—and the alien ones were often even more inex plicable than human males. "Whatever made you think I wanted you to run out and catch birds for me?"

   Manx shrugged. "I just want to help."

   Drusilla shook her head slowly. Nonstop romance would have been nice for a while—whether she ever finished any paintings or not. She could handle Ralph— maybe. "You can help me more by—" She paused there, having been about to tell him to get back in bed and they'd make love all day and into the night. He'd said she could have all she wanted, but perhaps he was right: she did need to paint, aside from the fact that there was no need to wear out his dick on their second day together. "Never mind. I appreciate any help you can give me. I'll just get my paints and easel and head on down to the lake. Hope fully I won't scare away those flamingos—or whatever they're called." She looked up at him; he was so… Manx like, standing there, like a big, black panther. Closing her eyes, she could still see him. Yes, she could already paint him from memory—and it would be fabulous.

   Manx seemed puzzled by her sudden turnaround. "What were you going to say?"

   Drusilla's expression was grim. "That I'd like to have some more of you. You said I could have all I wanted."

   "And I'll give you more, but I don't want to keep you from getting your work done."

   "But—"

   "Drusilla," Manx said gently. "I'll be back. I'm not leaving; I won't run off into the jungle and never come back, unless the Nedwuts are chasing me. Is that what you're afraid of?"

   "Maybe," Drusilla conceded, though a bit grudgingly. "It's just that I've never had a feeling like this before, and I don't want to lose it."

   Manx smiled broadly. "You won't," he assured her. "I could have left any time and you wouldn't have been able to stop me. But I didn't, and I will come back." He paused briefly on the threshold, adding with a meaningful smile, "And that feeling of laetralance is something I can give you for the rest of your life—that is, if you want me to."

   "Like I'd ever turn that down," Drusilla muttered. "Okay, okay," she grumbled, getting out of bed. "You can catch birds and I'll paint them. We'll be quite a team that way."

   Manx grinned. "That's the plan."

***

Meanwhile, back at the lake, Zef was feeling so left out of the loop he considered crawling across the beach and banging on the door to discover what had been going on. He'd kept quiet long enough, in his opinion, and thought it was high time for an update. Having done his best to encourage Manx to persist in his courtship of Drusilla, he was quite certain that Manx would succeed, but he still wanted to hear the details. Zef chuckled to himself, hoping that, in the end, Manx had done exactly what he'd suggested and waved his cock at Drusilla. Zef had known all along that it would be the best way of getting her attention, and while he tried to avoid feeling envious of Manx, he also knew that with a dick like that, he would
never
have been kicked out of his old lake!

   Still, the prospect of dragging his tired, old body out of the water didn't appeal to Zef in the slightest, so he dove down to nibble on some of those rubbery plants that grew a little ways out from the shore. They weren't nearly as tasty as fish bones, but until Manx went fishing again, he knew he wouldn't be getting anything else.