Between Two Evils

Chapter 4

 

The lights came on as she entered the room. Allura padded across the warm ash-gray stone and stepped into the open shower area.  She reached out and stabbed the button he'd shown her. 

 

She remembered just in time, ducking so that the torrent of hot water hit her on the top of the head instead of right in the face.

 

As her anger cooled, she felt the first hint of worry. She had been of no mind to weigh consequences when she'd hit him over the head with a pillow (twice) and exited his bed in high dudgeon, but now...

 

Just then, the warm weight of his hands settled on her shoulders—she tensed. 

 

One of his hands lifted, and then the water was adjusted lower. “It pleases me to please you, Allura. You are just going to have to get used to it.”

 

Allura's eyes widened behind the dripping curtain of her hair. She had never heard anyone so outrageously smug in her entire life.

 

She pushed her hair out of her face, settling it behind her with a shake of her head. What he meant was that pleasing her stroked his massive ego. She pulled away from his touch under the pretext of reaching for the soap.

 

At least he wasn't pretending to be sorry. She began to wash with quick, angry strokes.

 

“I will take you somewhere,” he said over her ear.

 

His fingers brushed her nape as they gathered the damp strands of her hair together. “There is no place that is too exclusive, too luxurious.  I'll take you anywhere you wish to go.”

 

Allura scoffed inwardly.  Any place that would admit him couldn't be too—

 

Her hands slowed and then stilled.

 

Allura turned her head, then she looked up over her shoulder at him.

 

He was smiling a little, yellow eyes half-closed. Drops of mist clung to his short, sooty lashes.  Those were the only things about him that were dark: his lashes, and the black slashes of his pupils.

 

“Anywhere?” she said.

 

 * * *

 

Allura leaned forward a little with anticipation as Lotor's ship emerged from the lightning-shot shroud of atmosphere and out into open space.

 

He had scowled and complained, but he actually seemed to be doing as he had said. He was taking her back to Arus even though there was 'nothing there'.  The memory brought a renewed stab of irritation; there had been more on Arus before his father had begun attacking it.

 

Stuffed in the cockpit at his side, she searched the stars ahead of them with no idea of finding anything.  It was enough to know that one of them warmed her home and that she would soon be seeing it again.

 

“It's that one,” Lotor said over her ear. He lifted the arm that was around her and pointed a little to her left. “Those three that make a perfect triangle—Arus orbits the bottom one.”

 

She looked where he was pointing and found the bright star.

 

Smiling a little, she kept her gaze on it as though they needed it to steer by.

 

After a while, she became aware that Lotor was very still.

 

She hesitated and then turned.

 

While she had been looking at the star, he had been looking at her, an expression of lazy amusement on his handsome face. He was so close that his dark-clad shoulders filled her view. There was no light in the small cockpit except for the ship's console, no sound except for the hum of the engines, so faint that the rub of their clothing was loud in comparison.  The glowing instruments painted his pale hair and skin in shades of blue and red and gold.

 

Flustered, she looked away, very aware of the press and heat of his body. Her gaze was drawn back to the star he'd shown her.

 

After a moment, her brows twitched together. It was an odd thing for him to know.

 

She turned and looked at him again.

 

As she watched, Lotor's expression turned sulky. He leaned past her to busy himself with the navigation. “Arus was my most recent military objective,” he said.

 

 

* * *

 

 

No sooner had Lotor set their course than he leaned back and shifted her so that she was sitting across his lap. She braced her hands against his chest.

 

He was smiling again; his golden eyes were sly and merciless in the dim light. He tugged off one gauntlet, and then the other. Her own eyes widened.

 

Again?

 

Here?

 

“How ever shall we pass the time?” he said, dropping the gauntlets to one side and settling his hands at her waist.

 

Even as she stared at him in disbelief, she felt her body responding to his touch and gaze. A twinge of remembered pleasure made her fingers tighten on his clothes.

 

“W-we could talk,” she said, as his bare hands slid up her back, pressing her forward against him from hip to breast.

 

“Talk.” His narrowed gaze fixed on her mouth. “Talk about what, Princess?”

 

Her gaze dropped to the curve of his own mouth. It was a mistake.  Less than an hour before, she'd felt that mouth on her body with an intimacy that stole her breath to think about.

 

She felt one of his hands splay between her shoulder blades, then bare fingers slid up her nape and into her hair, loosening the pins.  He tipped her head to one side, and she felt his breath and then his lips on her throat.

 

“Shall we talk about the scent of your skin, Allura?”

 

Was that his teeth?

 

“Or perhaps the way it shames the finest silk...”

 

Allura's desperate gaze fell on the book she had brought in a fit of optimism.

 

“Books,” she gasped, “Do you read?”

 

His mouth lifted from her skin.

 

“Of course I read,” he said, sounded annoyed. “And in several languages.” His fingers tightened in her hair. “Only a fool trusts interpreters.”

 

His other hand palmed her breast without preamble, surprising a sound from her. It was a retaliation, but nothing about the way he touched her was rough or painful.

 

His mouth worried at her throat, and then at the edge of her jaw, then his breath tickled her lips. “Let us talk about the taste of your mouth instead.” 

 

He didn't wait for an answer. His hand cradled her head, holding her for the press of his lips and the stroke of his tongue. 

 

“Intoxicating,” he said, when he lifted his head.  She licked lips that tasted of him and took a deep, unsteady breath. The taste of his mouth was familiar now—just as she recognized the languor that was  stealing her will and her reason.

 

He had released her breast while he was kissing her; Allura realized it when he pushed the edges of her unfastened jacket apart and palmed it again through the thin material of her shirt and bra.

 

He pressed his cheek to hers; every breath she took was laced with his warmth and scent. “Here,” he said, next to her ear, as his fingers brushed over her breast, “Here you taste sweet and so smooth I can barely feel you against my tongue.” His voice was as she had never heard it: soft, with a frayed edge that stroked her skin.

 

His fingertips trailed down over her belly. She could do nothing but cling to him and tremble as he undid the fastenings on her pants and slid his hand into the opening he'd made, easing them down over her hips along with her underclothes.

 

“Here,” his fingers slipped between her legs, cupping her sex.

 

She'd known where his caresses were headed, but the shock of it—she squeaked and arched her hips away, clamping her legs together on his hand. He shifted his attention to her breast instead, nosing her jacket aside and lipping at her nipple through her clothes until she loosened against him, her breath coming faster.

 

“I have a job for you, my dutiful little wife.” He flexed the fingers entwined in her hair and then the ones between her legs, tweaking the sensitive flesh. “Both of my hands are occupied, Treasure...”

 

One of his fingertips penetrated her ever so slightly. That was all it took to make everything clench. Allura bit her lip against the moan that rose in her throat; her hips shifted against him. His fingers delved a little deeper between her legs and then pulled back, sliding up the center of her.  Intense pleasure blossomed from his touch, clouding her mind further; she released her lip on a gasp.

 

“I need you to pull your shirt up for me.”

 

She shook her head, or tried to.

 

“Do it, Allura.” His tone was a hypnotizing blend of command and seduction.

 

Allura released her grip on his shirt.

 

She curled her fingers around the hem of her own and lifted, aware of every inch of skin exposed to the air. When she reached her bra, she hesitated. Then she curled her fingers around it and lifted it too. Her lips parted as the fabric rubbed over the tips of her breasts.

 

She knew the instant he could see what he wanted; his breath quickened and his hard fingers tightened just a little more. When he arched her upward between his hands and set his mouth to her breast—he was so gentle she thought she was going to die. There was nothing but softness and warmth and wet. Without meaning to, she made a small sound and arched a little closer.

 

She didn't know how long he held her that way, becoming ever more deeply entwined with her, but it was a bit of a shock when the fingers in her hair finally loosened and slid away, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. 

 

His clothes rubbed against her skin as he shifted her so that her back was to him. She felt a rush of sensation, heard a small, slick sound, as he pulled his fingers from her body.

 

Allura whimpered and tensed. Instead of relief, she felt empty and exposed.

 

She tucked her head under his jaw. His arm closed around her chest, and she brought a hand up to grasp it.

 

“Steady now,” he said, but his voice was rough and uneven. He began to push her clothes farther down her legs with fingers that shook, leaving cool traces of moisture on her skin. “This won't hurt a bit...”

 

Allura felt his arm tighten across her chest, and then he reached under her bottom to pull at his own clothes. He shifted her farther up on his body. Not since the first time had she been so aware of what was going to happen.

 

That first time, she had felt oddly protected: enclosed by the tall grass, his big body blocking out the stars, the surprising care he seemed to be taking with her, but here... She began to began to breathe in quick, panicky breaths. When she made a small sound, Lotor hesitated.

 

Then he pushed her jacket aside with his chin and bit her where her shoulder met her neck.

 

It acted with the force of a shock on her heightened senses; Allura arched against his arm and cried out.  The world narrowed to the four points of his canines, the band of his arm across her chest. Then he was sliding up into her, his fingers hard on her hip.

 

Allura panted around the penetration.  After a moment, he released her with his mouth; his breath hissed out as he eased deeper into her with a slow twist of his hips. Then he stopped and placed a warm, open-mouthed kiss in the center of where he had held her.

 

He released her hip and stroked her belly a little before his fingers brushed over the folds between her legs and then a little lower where they were joined. He seemed to like that; his fingers returned there again and again after he had begun to move.

 

The pleasure when it came, took her by surprise. The brush of his fingers between her legs was light; it made her shiver from time to time, but she felt far away and safe from the precipice he'd pushed her over before. Then he found that place himself, and she heard the helpless sounds, felt the movements of his body under her and in her. At the height of his pleasure he bit her again. This time he set the points of his teeth against her shoulder with a delicacy and restraint that transfixed her—and then she was shuddering against his fingers, the ripples of pleasure as light and sweet as laughter.

 

When Allura eventually opened her eyes, she had to shut them again immediately. The cockpit was  flooded with a brilliant, blue-white light. She held up a hand and blinked her eyes open again. They had come out of the jump on the daylight side; Arus's shining, cloud-swept curve filled her view.

 

* * *

 

They had come out of the jump, and she hadn't even noticed.

 

Allura sat up in dismay, pressing her knees together. She blushed when he grunted in discomfort at her sudden movement and pulled her back against him. She rose and fell with his chest as he sighed, and then he buried his face between her neck and shoulder. 

 

She lay there for a bit, very aware that her body was supported by his at every point. “We're here,” she ventured, finally, when he neither moved nor spoke. She began to tug at her clothes as best she could without sitting up.

 

“Now what?” he muttered against her shoulder. Then, in a rather different tone he said, “I know of a place with a great deal of grass...”

 

* * *

 

Allura jumped down from the cockpit and staggered, up to her ankles in warm sand.

 

Before she had quite caught her balance she was doing up the last few fastenings on her pants and smoothing her shirt into place. She took deep breaths of air that was not scented with their coupling.

 

She raised her head and took a few unsteady steps forward, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. A curve of dark sand divided the turquoise ocean from the cool shadows of the tropical forest. The rhythmic hush of the low surf provided a counterpoint to the exotic calls of unseen birds.

 

It was every bit as beautiful as the images she'd seen, but it had, at best, half of her attention. She heard Lotor hit the sand behind her. She spun around. 

 

The devil had arrived in paradise.

 

He straightened and looked around him with the air of someone who had not expected much and was not disappointed. Then he looked at her.  “Are these islands inhabited?” he asked. His tone was casual, but his eyes were not. She shook her head.

 

He smiled.

 

* * *

 

Allura wriggled her body a little deeper into the warm sand. She was fully dressed—again—leaving off only her jacket in deference to the balmy weather. She frowned at the book in her hand; she had never read novels before.

 

Lotor had arrived with the books during the first day of their marriage, spoken to her with a courtesy that his smirk had thoroughly belied, and then disappeared again. They had clearly been read before; where he could have gotten them she had no idea.

 

Coran had always insisted that such things were completely inappropriate for someone of her station, that they gave false views of life, stunted the mind, and made the reader unfit for serious duties. Nanny had concurred, saying that she knew of several girls whose lives had been ruined by them. Allura was past the age where she took her guardians' opinion for unvarnished truth, but she'd never had the time or inclination to form her own on this particular matter. 

 

Lotor dropped something onto the beach and lowered himself down next to where she lay on her belly. Allura kept her eyes on her book, even when he brushed a few grains of sand from her cheek with one finger. If her guardians were wrong, then the books were a harmless diversion, and if they did stunt her mind and make her unfit for serious duties then that could only make her a better companion to Lotor.

 

“Grass, my ship, and now sand—if I had known you had such a resistance to beds, Allura, I might have let you be.”

 

Allura set her teeth. Resistance to beds. Resistance to beds. It was more that Lotor had a complete inability to keep his hands to himself. She tightened her grip on her book.

 

She saw out of the corner of her eye as he rolled onto his back and tucked his rolled-up shirt under his head.

 

“I'm hungry,” he informed her.  After a moment she felt him prod her gently in the ribs, a summons she felt was too direct to ignore.

 

Allura looked at him and then over at what he'd dropped on the sand. Her eyes widened.

 

“You want me  to—of all the spoiled—”

 

She cut off her words when Lotor's mouth flattened out of its usual self-satisfied curl. He arched one pale brow.

 

Allura put down her book and pushed herself up onto her arms. Not trying as hard as she probably ought to hide her disapproval, she planted one hand in the middle of his bare chest and leaned over him to poke around in the insulated container.  One of the many things he'd said when she'd told him where she wanted to go was that he was definitely bringing his own food.

 

She plucked up some sort of meat roll, and offered it to him. When he opened his mouth, she dropped it in like she was feeding an animal that was prone to biting, all too appropriate as she'd recently discovered. At least his teeth were flat and human—for the most part.

   

He looked up at her while he chewed, his expression bland.

 

The next thing she knew she was flat on her back. 

 

“Not like that,” he said.

 

He leaned over her, pressing her into the warm sand.  When he leaned back, he was holding a translucent ruby-colored fruit between his thumb and forefinger.

 

Allura blinked at it. She loved those.

 

She pressed her mouth shut.

 

Lotor smirked and rubbed the fruit's glassy skin against her lower lip. 

 

“Open your mouth, Allura.”

 

She frowned up at him, feeling very uncooperative.  He knew it, too; his mouth curled up a little more. All of that blue hide and snowy hair looked quite striking against the deeper blue of the sky. He probably knew that, also. The reflected light turned his yellow eyes a brilliant gold.

 

Reluctant to challenge him openly over something so unimportant, she opened her mouth.

 

Instead of dropping it in, he pressed the round fruit inside.

 

He did not take his fingers away until after she'd closed her lips. He took his time about it too; she watched his pupils widen in response to the stolen caress of her lips and tongue.

 

It was clear, even in her inexperience, that this had little to do with serving or even with eating.

 

She broke the skin with her teeth, and the fruit's complex flavor, cool and tart and sweet, filled her mouth.

 

Instead of asking her again to feed him, he waited and watched until she had swallowed. Then he silently fed her a second fruit in the same way, and then a third, before covering her sticky lips with his own.

 

* * *

 

Allura woke the next morning with a start when the cover was yanked off of her.  She bolted upright in the bed, instinctively holding an arm across her bare breasts.

 

She stared up at the figure looming over her, and her eyes widened.

 

Oh. Oh, dear.

 

Last night she had been feeling tired and rebellious by the time they returned from Arus, and that had been before he'd insisted that she wash his hair—since the sand in it was 'all her fault'.

 

He'd fallen asleep while she was brushing it dry.

 

Now she watched in fascinated horror as he reached up and stripped the last of the plaits from his hair with his long fingers.

 

It didn't help. His crinkled mane of braid  curls looked thoroughly ridiculous. Allura swallowed, grateful that she hadn't had any of the pink ribbons she'd wished for the night before.

 

She looked from his hair to his baleful yellow eyes and opened her mouth to say something—anything—but her mind was a blank and her tongue felt dry and uncooperative.

 

“It seems,” he said, “that we shall have to have twice as many children. Some of them may inherit your death wish.”

 

 

To Be Continued

 

Back to Evil Fan Fiction