“Which means anybody in Davlova who has
business with Deliphine has to make the journey
themselves.”
“Exactly.”
It explained a lot — the high cost of goods,
the thriving black market, and most of all, the lack of foreign
visitors in Davlova. I thought back to the letter Donato had sent
me. “We have no exports.”
“Only slaves.”
We fell silent for a moment, both of us
watching the sea, as if a solution to Davlova’s problem might
appear in front of us.
None did.
Eventually, Jenko broke the silence. “I
imagine there’ll be more traffic by the time you head
back.”
“Refugees, you mean.”
“Yes. Of course, they’ll be headed the wrong
direction, but at least you’ll have help if you need
it.”
My sleepless night caught up with me
mid-afternoon. My legs felt like lead, and my bruised ribs ached
with every breath.
“Go,” Jenko said, after I yawned for what felt
like the hundredth time in a handful of minutes. “Get some rest.
You’ve earned it.”
I stumbled down the ladder to the main deck of
the yacht. Ayo was sitting where we’d left him, at the small
table.
“I have to sleep,” I said on my way past.
“Just for a bit.”
I couldn’t tell if he heard me or not. I
thought about what Jenko had said, how Ayo would turn off when he
was alone, like a light bulb. It seemed wrong, but a small part of
me was relieved. I was too exhausted to face him.
The main room of the cabin was a combination
galley and sitting room. In addition to the kitchen facilities, it
held a chair, a couch that was barely bigger than the chair, and a
small, low table. Past that, down a small flight of stairs, was the
bedroom. I didn’t even consider going there. I collapsed onto the
tiny couch — why hadn’t I thought to use it last night? — propped
my feet up on the table and instantly fell asleep.
There were no dreams. I slept long and hard —
at least, that’s how it felt — and woke sometime later to Ayo
settling next to me, cuddling against my side with his head on my
shoulder. I smiled and wrapped my arms around him, absorbing the
heat of his sun-warmed flesh. His golden curls smelled like the
sea, and some knot in my chest loosened at the feel of him in my
arms.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to
wake you.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Misha.” He snuggled closer. “Thank
you.”
I rubbed his back. I touched his soft, pale
cheek. “For what?”
“For everything. For coming for me. For trying
to protect me. For learning my trigger word. For…” His voice fell
to barely a whisper. “For saying it, even though I know you didn’t
want to.”
My mind recoiled from my memory of that night.
I didn’t want to think about Donato at all, but especially not that
side of him. I didn’t want to remember the anger and the violence.
I didn’t want to think about how it felt, seeing Ayo so still. “I
thought I’d killed you.”
“I thought so too.” He tilted his head back to
peer up at me. “Is that how it always feels?”
I laughed. “What? Dying. How would I
know?”
“Having an orgasm.”
“No.” Of course, I didn’t know how exactly it
had felt for him, but I remembered all too clearly the horrible
convulsions. “Did it hurt?”
“Sort of. It was…” He shook his head against
my chest. “I can’t describe it.”
“Did it feel good?”
“I suppose it did, but it was frightening
too.” He shuddered in my arms. “I can’t decide if I want to do it
again or not.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t think it
will always be that way.”
“You don’t?”
His eyes were hopeful, his soft, full lips
parted. Was it wrong for me to want him after everything we’d been
through? I ducked my head and kissed him gently, not pushing, but
because I had to taste him. The way he opened up to me was sweet
and tantalizing. So innocent, and yet curious. So trusting. It sent
a surge of arousal through me. “We could find out.”
His breath caught in his throat. He started to
pull away. “I’m afraid.”
“Shh,” I soothed, drawing him back into my
arms. “Then we won’t. Don’t worry. I won’t say it until you’re
ready.”
He relaxed against me again and, for a while,
we sat in silence. But my desire for him refused to wane. He felt
warm and pliant in my arms, open and ready, radiating willingness
like an invitation. His hand rested on my chest, lingering over my
heart. I could feel every breath he took. The urge to kiss him
again was overwhelming, but I didn’t want to push him. I didn’t
want him to feel that he was in any way obligated to please me.
Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would feel to
undress him and explore his soft, pale body. I couldn’t stop the
blood that flowed to my groin, causing a noticeable bulge in my
pants. When Ayo stirred again, moving closer, shifting one of his
legs over mine, I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. He
tilted his head back. He slid his hand up my chest, over my
shoulder, into the hair at the nape of my neck.
“Kiss me.”
I did, moaning as my tongue touched his. He
was perfect. So willing, and so eager, and before I knew it, I was
pushing him back on the small couch, lying on top of him as well as
I could in the limited space, grinding my erection against him as
we kissed. I didn’t move to undress him, though. I wanted him, and
yet I wanted to preserve this feeling of innocence. I wanted to let
him explore and discover, rather than having pleasure forced upon
him.
“Misha,” he gasped against my lips,
unbuttoning his shirt. “Touch me here.” He guided my hand inside,
gasping and arching against me as I brushed a thumb over his erect
nipple and explored his side. Every touch made him shiver. Every
caress made him sigh with delight. Yes, he knew about sex, but only
when driven by his programming. Feeling nothing but untainted
pleasure was apparently still new enough to feel like
discovery.
“Holy Goddess, how can it feel so
good?”
I felt his hard, oversized cock pressing
against my hip. I knew from the way he whimpered and strained while
barely moving at all that he both longed for and feared the
pleasure that could be found there. I slid my fingers down his
stomach. I cupped his erection in my hand. His hips instinctively
thrust forward, pushing against my hand, and he moaned. The sound
was so low and primal, it caused the ache of desire in my groin to
throb and spread.
“Misha,” he moaned. “I want this, but I’m so
afraid.”
“I won’t say it,” I promised. “Not unless you
ask me to.”
He thrust again into my hand. “It feels so
good.”
“Then keep going.” He did. His moans became
whimpers as he writhed in pleasure. I kissed his lips and his
cheeks and the angry welt Donato’s belt had left around his neck. I
held him tight. I caressed his groin as he humped wildly against me
until he was gasping, panting, bucking under my touch. Until the
tone of desperation in his moans told me it was time.
I put my lips against his ear and whispered,
“
Verezhny.”
He uttered a soft “Oh!” of
surprise.
And then he came.
It wasn’t like before, the back-wrenching
spasms or the near-painful scream. This was the way orgasms were
meant to be, him gasping and moaning, pushing against me as he
found his release, and I held him, kissing his cheeks, stroking his
groin until he lay still, breathing hard, shuddering, but with
nothing more than the normal after-shocks of a good, healthy
climax.
“It was so easy,” he whispered, his voice full
of awe. “Like it came out of nowhere.”
“Sometimes those are the best
kind.”
“There are different kinds?”
I laughed. I could have said something flip
like, “Just wait and see,” but I was painfully aware of having lied
to him about my intentions. “I’m sorry I surprised you, but I
thought—”
“No, you were right. I would have been afraid
if I’d known you were going to do it.” He tipped his head up,
smiling up at me. His eyes had always been remarkable, his irises
such a pale blue they seemed almost white, surrounded by a narrow
outline of deep indigo, as if somebody had outlined them in ink but
forgotten to color in the rest. But it wasn't the color that
brought me up short. It took me a minute to figure out what was
different.
His eyes were dry.
He cried so often, especially when sex was
involved.
He likes it when I cry. Making me hate myself is what
he loves most, he’d once told me
. Seeing his eyes so shining
and happy, without a tear in sight, warmed me. It made me believe
I’d done the right thing. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” I said, leaning down to kiss
him again. “You don’t ever need to thank me for that.”
“It felt so good.”
“It was supposed to.”
He reached down to touch my erection, his eyes
silently asking me a question.
“No.” I gently pushed his hand away. If it had
happened along with his, it would have been different. But now that
his was over, it felt wrong to ask him to return the
favor.
“I don’t mind.”
“I do.” Jenko’s strange warning still echoed
in my memory, and now that I was less focused on him, the pain in
my ribs was making itself known again too. “Besides, you’ll want to
clean yourself up before you stick to your pants.”
“That can happen?”
I was torn between laughter at his innocence,
and anger that he could be a sex slave but yet not know about
something so simple. After all, until recently, he hadn’t been
allowed to orgasm, and it seemed Donato had never been familiar
enough with him to spend post-coital time with him. Chances were,
even if he had, and even if he had used Ayo’s trigger, neither of
them would have been wearing pants at the time anyway.
It was a ridiculous situation, from any
angle.
“Yes,” I said, letting him up. “And the
un-sticking process isn’t fun. Trust me.”
He returned a few minutes later from the
bedroom, wearing only the strange white drape he’d had on the first
time we’d met. He’d worn it every time I’d seen him, up until the
night of our escape. I found it disconcerting, but he seemed
oblivious to my unease, so I did my best to dismiss it. Besides,
given the size of the bag he’d brought with him from Donato’s house
— about the size of a pillowcase — it was probably the only other
clothing he had.
We ate a small dinner, washing it down with a
bit of wine. And then a bit more. The pain from my bruises was
still there, but muffled by the alcohol. Finally, we emerged onto
the deck of the yacht to find the world bathed in the blood of the
setting sun. I searched the western skies for some sign of Davlova,
but she was too far behind us. Even the smoke, if it still
lingered, was lost to me.
Ayo slipped his small hand into mine, and we
stood there, not speaking, watching night creep across the sky,
until the engine went quiet and Jenko descended the ladder from the
upper deck. “We made good time today,” he said, as he crossed the
deck toward us. “Figured there was no point in killing myself to go
a few more miles. Not tonight, at any rate.”
Ayo tugged on my hand, begging my attention.
When I turned to him, I found him bouncing on his toes, his eyes
wide with excitement. “Let’s go swimming.”
Few things could have surprised me more than
that. “Are you serious?”
But it was clear he was. He was already
turning away from, stripping his simple shift off as he went,
oblivious to the way Jenko turned away in embarrassment as the
moonlight highlighted his pale flesh, playing across the smooth,
childlike planes of his body as he clambered over the boat’s
railing. “There’s just enough light left,” he called to me over his
shoulder before diving into the water below.
“Ayo!” I ran to the side. He was nowhere to be
seen, and I called his name again, panic beginning to flare in the
back of my mind. But two seconds later, he surfaced several yards
out. Even in the low light, I could see the huge smile on his
face.
“Come on!” he urged. “It’s
perfect.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer. He flipped
himself forward and dove with a natural grace that amazed me. It
was as if he were made for the water. When he broke the surface
again, he was closer to the boat, only a few feet away.
“Where did you learn to swim?” I asked
him.
“I don’t know.” Between the failing light and
the water, I could barely make out the movement of his arms as he
worked to keep himself afloat. He made it look so easy.
“Do you swim often?”
He cocked his head sideways. “I don’t remember
doing it before.”
“So, how did you know you could?”
He thought about it for a moment, and then his
eyebrows lowered. His lips pursed into a scowl. It was such a
foreign expression on his youthful face, it made me laugh out loud.
“I don’t know. Who cares? Stop asking me stupid questions and come
swim with me.”