Fugitive (18 page)

   Manx was out of the bed and holding her in his arms even before the first teardrop fell. Her sobs were muffled against his chest, but he said no words to stop her from crying. Most men couldn't stand a woman's tears, but they didn't seem to bother Manx a bit. He just held her, stroking her back while he purred.

   Drusilla could feel the vibrations in his chest and thought it was the most soothing, comforting thing she'd ever experienced—almost hypnotic in its effect on her mind. There was something so solid and safe about him, as though nothing bad could ever happen if he was holding her. She stopped crying long before she expected to and smiled as Manx wiped away her tears.

   "That's a pretty neat trick," she said. "All you have to do is purr for a while and the tears just stop."

   Manx grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Something my father taught me," he said. "Works every time."

   "Comfort women a lot, do you?"

   "Not lately," he admitted. "And not all that often, either."

   "You must be terrific at getting women on the rebound," Drusilla said with a wry grin.

   "What's that supposed to mean?"

   "Oh, you know, a couple breaks up, the girl is crying on your shoulder, and you start purring, which leads to something else entirely, and suddenly you've got your self a new girlfriend."

   "It's not that simple," Manx disagreed. "At least, it hasn't been for me, but then, my situation is unusual. I'm usually the one who has to leave."

   "Left a trail of broken hearts behind you?"

   "I don't know about that—I mean, I've tried not to hurt anyone—but I never know when I'll have to disap pear again, so I haven't gotten close to many women."

   "Not that they didn't want you to, I'm sure," Drusilla said, knowing full well just how strong his attraction would be to other women. "I'll bet you've broken more hearts than you realize." Feeling a pang in the vicinity of her own heart, she added, "I'm pretty sure you're gonna break mine to bits."

   "Well, if I do, it's your fault," he said. "I'm not the one who stripped off her clothes and jumped in the lake."

   "Saw that, did you?" she said, smiling sheepishly. "Guess I should have known better, but it seemed like the thing to do at the time."

   "Oh, I'm not complaining," he assured her. "But when you climbed up that ladder, I almost came after you."

   Drusilla was pleased to hear this, but remained slightly skeptical. "You've clearly been alone in the jungle too long," she said firmly. "It's affected your mind."

   "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I think that would have gotten to me no matter where I'd been—or who I'd been with." Grinning unabashedly at her now, he added, "You've got the most beautiful backside I've ever seen."

   "Oh,
please,"
Drusilla begged, rolling her eyes. "Compared to the rest of me, it's huge!"

   "If you say so," Manx said with a shrug, "but I thought it was perfect." Drawing in a shaky breath, he added, "I've been wanting to get my hands on it ever since."

   "You poor dear," she said solicitously. "I wouldn't want you to feel deprived."

Manx's smile grew devious. "I haven't been deprived."

   "What?" she demanded. "Have you been groping my ass while I slept?"

   "Well, you turned over," he said defensively. "It was right there in front of me. I was wide awake and I just had to. Besides, I didn't think you'd mind after what I'd already been doing."

   Drusilla considered this for a moment and came to the conclusion that, while she liked the idea, she also wished she'd been awake to enjoy it. Grinning evilly, she said, "How do you know I didn't do the same thing to you?"

   "Because I wouldn't have slept through that," he said with conviction. "It doesn't take much to wake me up."

   "So I've noticed," she remarked. "Just wish I'd been awake enough to try it." Manx had the most awesomely pinchable, squeezable—even kissable—buns she'd ever seen. Then she realized that, standing as close as they were, all she had to do was put her arms around his hips and she could play with them all she liked.

   Manx apparently had the same idea. "You're awake now," he said, moving closer.

   Not needing any further encouragement, she began with the small of his back, and slid her hands down ward, delighting in the outward curve and the firmness of his muscles.

   Manx leaned in to nuzzle the side of her neck, inhaling deeply. He was purring again, and Drusilla felt something else, but this time, it was poking her in the belly. All the erection jokes she'd ever heard passed through her mind just then, but she didn't share them with Manx—she didn't want anything to spoil the mood this time.

   "Mmm," she said, feeling suddenly dreamy. "You feel
so
good."

   "So do you." Pulling up the back of her robe, he soon had his warm, strong hands on her and began a deep, sensuous massage. Drusilla couldn't decide which part felt better—her hands on him, or his hands on her—but she was quite willing to continue for as long as it took to form an opinion.

   Klog floated in and beeped twice, the aroma of pancakes wafting in behind him.

   Gasping in surprise as she jumped backwards out of Manx's reach, Drusilla stammered, "I—I guess break fast is ready. Are you hungry?"

   Manx was standing there, completely naked with his erection pointing right at her. Swallowing with apparent difficulty, he replied, "Yeah, starving to death."

   After one look at him, Drusilla found herself staring at his penis with round-eyed fascination. "It's got a—a ruffle on it."

   Manx looked at her blankly. "A what?"

   "Your dick," she said, pointing her finger. "It's—I've never seen one like it."

   "Standard Zetithian equipment," he said with a swift, downward glance. "Your males don't have that serrated edge around the head?"

   "No," Drusilla replied faintly. "And they generally aren't that big, either."

   "It's not
that
big," Manx protested.

   "I guess it depends on what you consider big," Drusilla said. "And on Earth, trust me, that would be a big one."

   "Not
too
big, is it?"

   "I certainly hope not." Drusilla knew she was being impolite, but she couldn't keep from moving closer and bending down to inspect it. It had been impressive enough when flaccid, but fully erect it was quite remarkable. It was thick and long with a head much wider than that of a typical human's and as she watched, a clear, viscous fluid began to ooze from the scalloped points of the coronal ruffle. "Holy Toledo," she whispered in awe. "I definitely need to have breakfast before tackling that."

   "I was afraid you'd say that," Manx mourned. "Thanks a lot, Klog."

   Ignoring the sarcasm, Klog merely chirped and led the way to the dining room.

   As Drusilla took a seat at the table, she couldn't help noticing that there was whipped cream on the pancakes—mounds of it. "Klog must have been reading my mind again," she observed.

   "This is what you wanted for breakfast?" Manx asked, sitting down in the chair opposite her.

   "Sort of," she replied. Drusilla took one bite of her pancakes and just as the cream began to melt on her tongue, she nearly choked as the mental image of Manx feeding her whipped cream with his fancy dick popped into her head. "Hope Klog didn't see that one," she murmured.

   Apparently he had, because the droid beeped once, raised his whipped cream "finger," and hovered toward Manx.

   "Didn't mean that, Klog," she said hastily. "I think he's already got plenty."

   Klog beeped twice but continued to hover nearby.

   "Need anything, Manx?" Drusilla asked, curious

as to why Klog wasn't leaving to go clean the beach or something.

   "A cold shower, maybe," Manx replied. "But not now," he added, as Klog raised another arm. "Maybe I'll just go for a swim."

   Drusilla looked down at her plate to hide her smile. It would probably take more than a cold shower to get that raging hard-on to back down. "So, how do you like the pancakes?" she asked, changing the subject.

   "They're very good," Manx replied. "I've never eaten anything like this before."

   "I don't eat them very often," she confided, "but sometimes they're just exactly what I want."

   As Manx watched a forkful of pancakes and whipped cream disappear into Drusilla's mouth, he knew exactly what he wanted too—and it had nothing to do with food.

***

After breakfast, Drusilla wanted nothing more than to spend the day discovering the secrets of Zetithian male anatomy, but she found it extremely difficult to say so. She was leaving those sorts of suggestions up to Manx, but he was obviously having second thoughts as well.

   "I—I think I'll go for that swim now," he said awkwardly.

   "Sure, whatever," she said, trying to sound noncha lant. "I'll just take a shower—and maybe put some more of that ointment on these cuts—you should too."

   "I will," he said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking as uncomfortable as she felt. Giving her a quick nod, he left the table and headed down the stairs to the beach.

   Drusilla remained at the table, staring off into space. What would he say when he came back—if he came back? "Thanks, ma'am, but this was a mistake. I'll let myself out," or, "It's been fun, but my wife is expecting me home for dinner"? She'd taken everything he'd told her as the gospel truth. But was it? He'd seemed sincere, but what did she really know about him, anyway? It had all seemed so different the night before. He'd saved her life and she owed him a debt of gratitude she could never repay.

   Or could she? If Manx was on the run from Nedwuts, Barada Seven, with its peaceful natives and lack of weapons, hardly seemed the best place for him to live. Earth would be much safer, and taking him there would certainly constitute a reward. The trick would be to get him there.

***

"So," said Zef as Manx swam past him, "Did she like your willie?"

   "I think it scares her, actually," Manx said ruefully. "She looked at it like she was afraid to touch it."

   "That's odd," Zef remarked. "Nice big dick like that shouldn't scare anybody. She'll get used to it."

   "You think?" Manx said. He'd never been overly concerned about how big his cock was before, but just then, he was wishing he could downsize it.

   "Did she like you?"

   "I think so," Manx replied. "Seemed that way—at least, she smelled like she did."

   "Then she'll get used to it," Zef said firmly. "Maybe she'll take you back to Earth with her."

   "I'm not so sure about that," he said. "We started off—oh, I was forgetting, you didn't know. A wildcat attacked her when she came out of the house after I knocked on the door."

   "You mean the beast that idiot Lester was telling her about? It was real?"

   "Oh, yeah, it was real," Manx replied, swimming lazy circles around Zef. "It nearly killed her." His expres sion became chagrined as he added, "And if it had, it would've been my fault. I knocked on the door and then hid in the trees to see if she'd come out."

   "Well, that was pretty fuckin' stupid," Zef observed. "What'd you do a fool thing like that for?"

   "I didn't think she'd open the door if I was standing there."

   "You dumb butt! You should have just stood there in front of the door with that big weasel hanging out—"

   "It
was
hanging out, which is why I backed off," Manx said. "I should have put my clothes on before I knocked on her door." At this point he was regretting that omission even more.

   "But you saved her from the beast?"

   "Well, yes, but—"

   "She owes you one, then."

   "One what?"

   "Nice big willie like that and you can't figure out what to do with it," Zef said disgustedly. "She owes you a fuck."

   "Not if it kills her," Manx pointed out.

   "It won't kill her, you big idiot," Zef argued. "Most females like the big ones. You just have to be careful how you use it."

   "That's another thing," said Manx. "She got hurt pretty badly by that cat. She seemed better this morning, but I don't want to push it."

   "You don't know a damn thing about women, do you?" Zef said bluntly. "You saved her life. She's prob ably up there at the house thinking of all the things she can do to thank you."

   "Well, she did want me to stay with her last night," Manx admitted. "She acted like she wanted to—and we almost did it—but she fell asleep."

   Zef began laughing uncontrollably. "Fell asleep?" he echoed. "Are you
that
boring?"

   Manx glared at his friend. "She wasn't bored, she was tired."

   "Oh, big difference there," Zef said, his voice drip ping with sarcasm. "But with the same end result."

   "I got to spend the night with her, though," Manx said defensively. "We even had breakfast together. It was probably the best breakfast I've ever had in my life, too. Ever hear of something called pancakes?"

   "Nope," Zef replied. "Taste anything like fish?"

   "Not at all," said Manx. "They're sweet and fluffy and—"

   "Are you talking about the food, or Drusilla?" Zef interrupted.

   "The food."

   "Ha! Well, I'm sure it was tasty, but the damned menu can wait. Tell me more about Drusilla, and why you're down here swimming when you could be up at the house fucking her." Eyeing Manx suspiciously, he asked. "She didn't throw you out, did she?"

   "No, what makes you think that?

   "You said she didn't like your dick."

   "She didn't really say she didn't like it," Manx said. "It was just the way she looked at it. Made me feel weird."

   "You know, when it comes to sex, we eltrans are much less inhibited," Zef said frankly. "Tell me this: has any other woman ever
not
liked it?"

   Manx grinned. "No, to be honest, they've all liked it pretty well."

   "Cocky bastard!" Zef said approvingly. "You see? That's the spirit! Give 'em plenty of dick and they won't ever—"