Zonaton (5 page)

Chapter Five

The Joy

            He was waiting for her at the mouth of the cave. Him and his beautiful human form. She did not know his name, or which village he came from. All she knew was that he brought her joy in what he did with her and to her, and she welcomed him with tears and open arms.

            He wore the purest white clothing she'd ever seen. His top and pants almost glowed like a small sun. And when he wrapped his arms around her, he shared his sun's heat with her until there was not an ounce of cold left in her body.

            "You came! You heard me and you came!"

            "I could not stay away from you, Emmala."

            He smiled at her, and for the umpteenth time she tried to visualize his face. A face she could touch with her hands and trace the outline of his eyes and nose and ears. But his face never firmed, never formed. It always remained fogged and indistinct. But she knew when he smiled. And she knew when he gazed upon her with undisguised tenderness.

            His lips were soft, his mouth gentle upon hers. He kissed her hesitantly, almost shyly, as if this was not an action he was accustomed to doing. His hands moved down her back, stopping to cup her buttocks and lightly squeeze them. His hips ground into hers, and she could feel the hardness pressing against her mound. Need, deep and strong, clenched within her lower abdomen.

            Taking his face between her hands, she pulled away slightly and gazed up into his mysterious visage, into what she believed were pale blue, almost crystalline eyes. "Zonaton has left to hunt, but we must hurry. I don't know how soon he'll be back." 

            He answered by lifting her into his arms and striding over to the pallet, where he carefully laid her down. She scrambled out of her clothing as he watched her with obvious hunger.

            "You are so beautiful, Emmala."

            "So are you."

            She spread her legs and touched herself, a silent invitation she knew he was eager to accept. He jerked his own tunic over his head, then jerked his pants down, to kick them free of his boots he never removed.

            Her eyes riveted on the shaft of flesh jutting outward from his body. It blushed pinkly, and she almost laughed.

            "What is funny?"

            "Nothing. Nothing is funny. It's just that seeing you makes me happy."

            "Let me make you happier." He almost begged.

            She replied by lifting her knees and opening her lower lips with her fingers where he could see her moist opening.

            He dropped to the pallet and dipped his face between her thighs. The first rough swipe of his mouth and tongue made her cry out, and he chuckled. Taking her hand away from her entrance, he pressed it to the blanket.

            "Let me be the one to pleasure you."

            "Please. Yes."

            He lowered his face again, digging his tongue into her channel and licking the cream that had gathered within. His moan of pleasure vibrated against her sensitive skin, and she gasped.

            "More! Do more!"

            "Yes. There will be more," he murmured. His breath was a hot puff of air across her belly. Despite the chilly air, she was beginning to perspire from her own internal heat.

            Reaching down, she grasped a double handful of his hair, and tugged. Pulling his face harder into her, silently demanding he bring her greater pleasure. Laughing, he teethed both swollen lower lips, then took her clit into his mouth to suckle it.

            Pleasure rushed through her, setting her on fire. She kicked and jerked, but he kept her hips pressed down and legs separated so he could get his fill of her. His mouth made slurping sounds as spike after spike of raw hunger rose within her.

            Unexpectedly, the sensations ceased between her thighs. Emmala gasped for air as sweat rolled down her face and sides. Her hands felt swollen, her fingers thick and difficult to bend.

            Heat crawled over her mound, leaving a trail of kisses over her abdomen and belly. Slowly, inexorably, he crawled up her body, his mouth tasting her, teeth gliding across her smooth skin. When he reached her breasts, a vast thickness plunged between her thighs. Panting, she arched her neck at the invasion, until his burning mouth closed over a nipple and tugged.

            His blistering erection pulsed between her knees. His wide chest and belly scorched her own belly and thighs. So much heat. So much fire coursing through her veins. The pallet beneath her was soaked.

            He released her nipple, adjusted himself, and took her other one. Swallowing it. Sucking it and her breast far into his mouth. His lips and tongue were relentless on her flesh. Then he lightly gnawed on the taut protuberance.       

            Emmala threw her arms around his neck, pressing his face hard against her breast. Lifting herself off the pallet in a silent plea to devour her. He nipped harder, and she jerked. Chuckling, he released her breast with a wet pop, and moved further over her.

            The thickness pushed further between her lower lips. Pressed deeper, into her, inside her, driving but not thrusting, entering her dark cavern without hesitation. Her fingers dug into the pallet, nails nearly tearing the fabric. Her cries reverberated off the rock walls, but he didn't stop, he didn't slow. His hard shaft of flesh pulled back, almost withdrawing completely, only to thrust into her, shoving himself deeper and harder within her own wet chamber.

            Her hips bucked, and he laughed with pleasure. He rode her, possessed her, and she strained toward her completion. When it came, her moans loudly echoed around them. Her arms flailed, her hands hitting him about his shoulders. Her body closed around his erection, trapping him inside her body like a vise of flesh. He struggled to continue ramming himself inside her, but she was shutting him out, pushing him out.

            Withdrawing, he nuzzled her neck and rolled onto his side where he rested. Sound came back to her. Reality returned. She grew aware of the deepening sunlight streaming through the cave entrance. It was getting late.

            Turning her head, she watched as he opened his eyes and smiled at her. A face that would never solidify to where she could see it in detail. Long ago, she had decided to believe he was wearing some sort of mask. A mask he couldn't remove for whatever reason.

            "Zon will be back soon. You must go."

            "What will he do to me if he finds me here?" He smiled again. His eyes were dark.

            "I don't know, and I don't want to find out. Please. Go."

            "And return later?"

            It was her turn to smile. "Yes. Please."

            She could tell he was reluctant to pull his clothes back on, and even more reluctant to leave her. But he understood why he had to. Emmala didn't believe that Zonaton would kill him. Yet she knew in her heart the geron would try to keep him away for fear he would try to hurt her. She didn't know what she would do if or when Zonaton discovered her secret. She hoped she never had to find out, the same way she wanted more of what this strange man could do to her.

            Getting on one knee, he waited for her to sit up before kissing her goodbye. Cupping her cheek, he ran a thumb over her lips. "I will return."

            "Promise?"

            "With my life."

            Lifting a curl from where it partially covered one breast, he twirled the strand until it made a tufted tip at the end. She watched him, mesmerized by the sight of him twisting the lock, until he brushed her nose with it, tickling her, and finally eliciting a smile. "There. Better. I would rather leave you with a smile than a frown."

            He stood, and she watched as he left the cave and vanished into the light. Once he was gone, she rolled herself up in the pallet and went to sleep.  

* * *

            Zonaton remained crouched in the farthest corner of the cave, his hands tightly clenched, as he watched Emmala's breathing slow. Her needs were becoming more and more insistent, which meant he had to provide her with some form of release. But the dreams took a toll on him. The emotional toll he could tolerate. However, the mental toll also affected his own physical reactions, and those reactions were the ones he both detested...and enjoyed.

            When Emmala orgasmed, so did he, although they were separated by several meters. Every touch, every whisper they shared vibrated through his body, as though she was actually loving him in return, and he vainly fought to keep himself grounded.

            He never realized how deeply her response to these dreams would affect him. In some ways, to him she was still the little girl with the bruised body and soul. But he also knew she was now a vibrant and sensuous young woman, whose need for physical love was growing at a rapid rate. So much so, he was finding himself having to send her these dreams with increased frequency. Almost nightly.

            Zonaton sighed with regret. What he wouldn't give to be able to love her the same way her dream lover did. What he wouldn't give to be able to approach her and offer himself.

            What he wouldn't give...

Crotirum

           
The Elders are concerned and asked that I speak with you, Zonaton.

            About what?

            Your actions with your Paired.

            What occurs between me and Emmala is none of their concern. Ours is a true Pairing. We have proven it many times.

            You are correct. You have, and you are. But they feel these more recent and personal aspects that have developed between you should be toned down.

            If you are speaking about the sexual nature between us, do not go any further. It is none of their business, nor is it any of yours.

            You are feeding her dreams―

            I am feeding her. Period. I fulfill her physical needs with food and shelter, and I fulfill her emotional needs with those dreams. I fulfill all of her needs. I keep her happy and content, and in return she becomes the conduit by which I help protect our world. Now leave me alone, Crotirum. Leave us both alone.

            I wish I could, but I find myself agreeing with the Elders.

            Who have never been Paired. None of them have, including you. How would they know what should and should not be allowed?

            She is alien to our world.

            Exactly. She is a human. They are sexual beings. Her needs are strong, just like her strengths.

            Calm your anger, Zonaton. I am the vessel by which they speak. I did not suggest nor make this doctrine.

            Doctrine? They've made it a doctrine?
Zonaton turned on the geron with undisguised irritation.
By what right do they have to tell me what I can and cannot do with my Pair? When have they experienced what I experience? None of you have felt the elation and contentment that Emmala and I derive from it. When they have Paired with their own True, until they know the extent of a Pairing, then they can dictate their so-called doctrine to me!

            Zonaton, you are risking too much.

            What do you mean, I am risking too much? Risking what? Separation? Are they threatening to unPair us? You go tell them that if they try to do anything to harm Emmala, or attempt to break our True Pair, I will personally appear before the Elders and destroy them. Go tell them that! I will destroy anyone who tries to take Emmala away from me!

            Zonaton.

           
Go! Tell them!

Chapter Seven

The Meeting

            Emmala watched the comings and goings in the village below. The village she knew as Genesis, but which the gerons referred to as
Brytor
. The gerons had a name for everything on the planet. A single name. There were no shades, no variations, and no similarities within their mental language. One word equaled one object, action, or nuance. She liked it that way as there was no misunderstanding whenever she communicated with Zonaton, or he with her.

            Sitting on the big round boulders bordering the ledge, her new brown clothes blended perfectly into the background, making her virtually invisible from a distance. Yet she could easily see people going about their daily tasks as she waited. Tiny figures weaving in and out of their homes, or walking to and from the village square.

            Sometimes she used to feel a wistfulness, the desire to belong, to go down there and join them. Until she remembered why she had been so eager to leave, and then the desire to be among others of her kind evaporated.

            The sound of the wind in his wings alerted her to the geron's arrival, but she didn't turn to look at him. She waited until Zonaton pressed the side of his face against her hip. Reaching through the thick roll of skin covering his long neck, she found his vulnerable spots and scratched around the scales' hard edges. The geron rubbed her outer thigh with his beak, his eyes closed as ripples of happiness vibrated through her. After a few more moments, he lifted his head.

           
Are you ready?

            "Yeah. Are there any others coming with us?"

           
No. The Elders say this is solely our mission
.