CHAPTER FOUR

York

 

I’m worried Azan thinks I talk too much, but I ramble sometimes when I’m excited. He’s usually silent; maybe he doesn’t like someone talking at him for hours on end, and that’s what it felt like when I told him about Christmas – hours. The way he stared at me when I told him about Santa. The way his eyes blazed with heat when I talked about my family, presents, Christmas trees, snow, sledding and spending time in the mountains with my parents when they were able to get off work. He probably doesn’t want to listen about my family life and holidays he doesn’t understand when he’s trapped on a planet where it’s always raining, and the only family member he sees is his brother.

But he did listen.

He nodded, and it wasn’t only to be polite.

Crouched in front of me, cock noticeably erect, he remained still as I spoke. He seemed to take everything in, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s saving this information for a later date.

I don’t want our time to end, but there’s only so much I can tell him about Christmas without getting into the nitty-gritty, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear every detail. Plus, I’m starving by the end, and unable to keep my stomach from audibly growling. Azan’s golden eyes widen and drop to my stomach, and I half expect him to escort me from his room.

But no. He’s taking me to a kitchen, or something close to it. I’m not stupid enough to think where Sidyths prepare food is anything like what I remember from back home, but I am excited to see Azan cook.

Plus, he’s holding my hand.

His hand is huge. Oh my God, it’s calloused and masculine, and I feel downright little walking by his side as he leads us down the hall.

A man – a Sidyth male, no less – is about to cook me dinner.

He speaks thirty languages, and he can cook?

How has no one snapped up this amazing, beautiful creature?

My heart races at the idea of him cooking for me, something straight out of a book. He says he knows a little bit about human food and how to prepare it. I can only imagine what he’s going to do. On a side note, it’s also almost impossible to focus on food when Azan squeezes my hand more tightly as we move down the muddy halls, and one of his brothers’ steps in front of us.

“What are you doing now, Azan?” His bright yellow eyes narrow at me before flickering back up back to Azan’s.

Azan doesn’t answer at first, and from so close to him, I can’t quite get a good angle on what his eyes look like because he’s too tall.

“Azan,” the new Sidyth continues. “Tell me what you’re doing with this one before I tell Hujun you’re dragging women around without permission. If I’m not allowed to, then you shouldn’t—”

“This one has a name,” I snap, tired of being spoken over like a child because I’m not seven feet tall with a scaled dick between my legs. “And it’s York.” I pull my hand away from Azan’s and thrust it towards the stranger. He’s familiar looking enough; I remember him standing in the doorway of the Gathering Room, but even if I did know his name, I wouldn’t say it. I want this guy to know he’s of no importance to me. “Azan’s taking me down to the kitchen to make me some food. You wouldn’t want Korben or Hujun to find out one of us is going hungry?”

The Sidyth takes a step back, creating a small path for me to walk through. I duck under the stranger’s arm and thrust my hand back towards Azan because I feel more confident with his skin against mine.

“Of course not,” the stranger grumbles. “I should probably head to the Gathering Room myself and check on Uhl-u-ska.” He starts to turn back to me. “I’m Taylis, in case you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t.”

Taylis’ eyes widen, flicking to Azan, who still remains silent. Taylis isn’t a small Sidyth, but as Azan steps past him to take my hand, it’s more obvious how big he is. My Sidyth is one of the scariest beings in this lair.

Wait, did I call him my Sidyth?

I shake my head, trying to focus instead on Azan’s touch, but another thing dawns on me.

“Uhl-u-ska?” I ask Taylis.

He nods. “The one who looks like you.” He narrows his eyes and frowns. “Only better.”

Azan squeezes my hand. Hard. It’s difficult not to wince, but I don’t want him to think he’s hurt me. I’m assuming he’s upset because Taylis kind of insulted me. At least, it’s obvious who he’s talking about now.

“Her name is pronounced Uh-lah-ska,” I say slowly. “Alaska. And unless you want her to punch you in the nose, you’ll learn to say it right.”

Azan’s grip lessens, and I swear he trembles slightly. Is he chuckling? I don’t turn away from Taylis to verify this as much as I want to.

“Ah-las-kah,” Taylis says. “I know that. That’s what I said.”

“Sure you did.” I make a show of rolling my eyes and start tugging Azan down the hall again. I’m damn hungry now and still ravenous at the idea of watching this massive Sidyth cook for me.

Taylis doesn’t say another word to us as we go around a corner, and Azan takes the lead again. After all, I don’t have the slightest idea where we’re going. I let him lead the way.

What other places will he take the lead?

Where will I take the lead? I snicker to myself.

Azan’s hand has completely loosened up around mine again, and I relax as we turn a few more corners. He’s silent and my mind races.

“So, do you know any names of human foods?” I ask quietly when the current hall we’re in seems to be vacant.

He slows his pace and turns towards me. His head dips to the side.

“Research shows humans like food fast.”

“Food… fast?” I giggle at the idea. “Fast food? Like hamburgers and french fries?”

“Fries.” He nods. “Yes. I believe that is a term I heard before.”

“What else?” I ask, interested in knowing how the rest of the universe views humans.

“You tell me what you like, and I’ll say if I know it.”

My eyes widen as he pulls me gently before stopping at a curtainless opening. He releases my hand and stares hard at me.

Food. Right. I’m supposed to be thinking about food.

It’s been so long since I’ve thought about human food. For years I’ve eaten out of bowls more suitable for dogs and filled with a sludge that isn’t much different than Fancy Feast. The idea that there’s information about human food and someone who’s willing to make it for me? It’s strange, to say the least.

But I love strange. I love different.

“Christmas food?” Azan guesses, motioning for me to follow him inside the space.

I don’t answer immediately, taking in the prep room for the first time. Not surprisingly, it’s nothing like a kitchen. I don’t know why I expected double ovens, gas stoves, and enormous refrigerators. This place is more like the inside of one of the rooms I stayed at on a spaceship. There are a few somewhat familiar contraptions, but it’s obvious they are well used and not up to date or code. Korben apparently was able to bring some apparatuses for cooking, but not what most of the Sidyths are used to, I bet.

Not to mention, outdated or not, I have no idea how to use most of them.

There are a few seats, and Azan grips my hips and places me on one before taking his place on the opposite side of the long table. Holy shit, he picks me up and moves me like I weight nothing.

“I am sure this is not what you’re used to,” Azan rumbles. “But at least it is better than going out and skinning animals like Drakens.” He shakes his head. “Though, I am aware they enjoy the thrill of the hunt and the scent of blood.”

I swallow hard and nod, all too aware of some of the Draken hunting customs.

“Would you be interested in something not containing meat? I am sorry, I do not care for the smell.”

A scary masked Sidyth who doesn’t care for the smell of meat. I have found something new and different.

I cross my arms on the table and rest my chin on top of them, and Azan watches me with interest.

I must remember I’m supposed to be answering his questions, not staring at his muscular body because it makes me hot with need.

A Christmas food. A familiar food. Food with no meat.

“Flatbread?” I lift my head and smile. Azan looks back at me strangely.

“Flat… bread?”

I nod. “Yes, flatbread! It’s something we had at Christmas time in the mountains. It’s not a traditional food, but it’s pretty easy. You need something flat… uh… bread.” I laugh like a moron. “And then you cover it with whatever toppings you want. The possibilities are endless! Once we have the flatbread part down, it’ll be easy. Anything will work. Does that make sense?”

Probably not. He stares at me for a few moments in silence, wearing a blank expression, or at least I assume it’s blank based on his eyes.

“Something flat?” He turns his back to me and pulls open what can only be best described as a stainless-steel cabinet door. “Like bread…”

I smile. “Yeah.”

It’s adorable watching him search and look. Kind of hot too. His back and shoulder muscles are like the rest of him – thick and rippled – as he bends over to check a lower cabinet. He has back dimples.

Back fucking dimples.

My mouth waters at the sight, but he quickly pulls back into a standing position and spins towards me, holding something that reminds me of naan, only it’s an off-pink color with red flakes scattered throughout. It doesn’t look anything like flatbread other than being flat, and I guess technically it looks like bread. That color though.

“What is that?” I ask as Azan dips the fluffy, pink object under my nose. It doesn’t smell terrible, but it doesn’t smell like traditional bread either; more like ginger and Swedish Fish. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Based on the description I gave him, this is exactly what I’m looking for.

“Banbask,” he says in broken English. “Take bite off end. Tell me if works.”

“You want me to try that?” I don’t want to be a baby, but banbask looks weird. And YES, I know I said I like different! But this is food! This goes in my stomach! “What’s with the color? And those red flakes in the…”

“Banbask,” Azan fills in for me. “Don’t ask. Taste.” He lifts the food a little closer to my mouth, brushing it’s against my lips. I’m surprised by the texture. It’s velvety and soft. “Try it…”

I take a bite.

Banbask is sweet… and delicious. And though it’s not flatbread, it’s similar. It’s light and fluffy. Almost like strawberry cupcakes wearing a naan costume. My eyes light up. I should have never doubted him. Azan may not know the proper words and gestures but he probably knows twice as much as anyone else here. I lick my lips and take another small bite, if for no other reason so I can brush my lips against Azan’s thick scaled fingers. The mixture of man and sweat and the sweet, pink banbask is almost too much to handle.

Azan’s eyes search mine. “Good, yes?”

I can hardly wait to try and make a flatbread out of this. With him.

I’m smiling like an idiot. “We can make it work.”

Once I’ve had my fill of banbask, I swear Azan’s about to take me back to his room, but the trip feels different this time. It only takes another few familiar twists and turns before I realize he’s taking me back to the Gathering Room. Of course he is. What did I think? A few hours with him making banbask, and he’d take me back to his room, throw me down on his bed, and have his way with me?

Oh, that’d be hot.

Still, it’s a little upsetting to know that if he does want me, it’s not enough for him to keep me for the night. He stops in the doorway in front of the Gathering Room and nods curtly at Fugly – er, Hujun – who’s standing with Ellis close to his hip.

“Finished for the night, Brother?” Hujun asks.

Azan nods.

There’s no kiss goodnight. Azan probably doesn’t know what that is, but I feel downright rejected as he merely nudges me back into the Gathering Room without a word. I’m growing more used to his silence around others, but it’s still jarring when he speaks so much when it’s only the two of us. The rejection stings, and though Ellis squeaks about something, I don’t care.

He doesn’t want me to come back to his room? Fine. I still need some relief.

I storm past the others, avoiding their curious gazes as I make my way to an open privacy stall.

Relief.

I’ll be able to think more clearly once I take care of the biting horniness throbbing between my thighs.

“Are you okay?” Sloane asks as I’m about to close the privacy curtains.

I’m practically humping the stall, pinching my eyes shut because I’m so aroused now. I can’t stop thinking about Azan and his thick, muscular thighs. His rippling arms. Fuck, I’m thinking about his mask and what terrifying beauty must be hidden behind it. Not to mention those incredible back dimples.

“Can’t talk now,” I call back, slinging the curtain shut and taking a few sharp breaths.

I can’t get Azan out of my mind. All I can think about is his large hands on my shoulders as he stands behind me, watching me top the banbask with strange looking fruits, sloppily sliced by yours truly. He smells like Christmas and cinnamon, and the scent alone is enough for me to inch up my skirt, exposing my pussy to my greedy fingers.

I’m so horny after a few hours with him I can barely walk.

I tease my clit with my fingers, wishing it was Azan’s fingers down there. His hands are so big, one or two fingers could fill me easily, and I don’t want to think about what his dick’s going to do. Lies. Of course, I want to think about that. I moan softly and throw my head back, not wanting the others to know what I’m up to because while I don’t care about having sex with aliens, I do care about the other girls catching me masturbating to a masked alien. I close my eyes, growing lost in my time with him. That food prep room. The scent of pine and cinnamon. The sweet, pink banbask.

I remember how he said the name. Banbask.

I couldn’t see his lips move, but I can imagine it. They’re probably so full and thick. I don’t care why he wears the mask… I just… want… him.

I want him to want me.

I’m barely able to breathe as I continue to work my fingers against my pussy, swirling around the throbbing nub of my clit.

“Azan…” I whisper, imagining him wanting me as much as I want him.

His strong, scaled body leaning over mine. He’s relentless with his touch. And though he’s silent, we wouldn’t need words at this moment. I’m so lost in the fantasy, I’m all but panting like a horny cat behind the curtain, punching the solid wall to my left, while my right hand continues to pound inside of me. My thrusts grow needier. I wish I had a damn vibrator. Now, that’s something aliens need to work on.

Not pink flatbread. I need a damn Rabbit in this joint!

“Oh… God… Azan,” I mutter, needing to finish. If I can’t have him, I’ll pretend to have him. If he won’t pleasure me, if he’d rather be polite, that’s fine. I can be his friend during the day and finger fuck my brains out at night with memories of the day earlier with him. “Yes…” I pinch my eyes more tightly as Azan mounts me in my fantasies. His shorts are still on. Enough of those...

I’m close. I’m so fucking close… oh… yes.

“Azan!” I’m no longer able to keep quiet.

“York?” Sloane’s voice is like a dagger to my lady boner. “York, you okay?”

“I’m fine!” I scream back, not wanting to lose the fantasy.

“Are you sure? Do you need me to come in there?”

“NO! I’m coming! I’m coming, dammit!”

And a moment later, I do. I come all over my fingers in ecstasy, even with Sloane ruining my fantasy. Despite my aftershocks, I close my eyes so Azan and I can be alone again. I swear Sloane’s saying something to Ellis about how I’m sick and need something, but I’m still coming down from the high of fucking a Sidyth in my fantasies while masturbating in a privacy stall.

I don’t care. I haven’t come that hard in years, and I didn’t need an alien to do it.

I lean against the wall as the last of my shaking comes to an exquisite end, and though I’m tempted to masturbate once more, simply because I want to go back where Azan’s fucking the living hell out of me, I’m tired. Today has been long and sexually frustrating, and so, not bothering to wash off my fingertips or pull down my skirt, my eyes closed and I start to fall asleep.

And as I drift off, Azan comes back for a second round, already stroking his scaled cock.

Who says fantasy fucks can’t be as good as the real thing?

 

***

 

“Is this normal human behavior?”

“How would I know? Korben’s the one who brought in the humans. Why don’t you ask him?”

“He is with his Chosen. Perhaps we should call someone down here.”

“Perhaps she has died? Can humans die from pleasure?”

“Guys, she’s not dead. I think she masturbated herself to sleep.”

“Masturbated? As in pleasured herself?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard the word before,” a deep voice rumbles. “I could smell her nectar from across the room.”

“I know what pussy smells like! A better question is, does my brother disgust her so much?”

“Why don’t you call him down here and see what he thinks of this?” a squeaky voice answers.

“What if he cannot control himself?”

“We’ll have to take that risk. He knows her better than most of us here. York’s always been standoffish. Go get Azan.”

My eyes pop open, but a few moments too late, because I’m alone in the privacy stall again. Wait, not again.

Did I leave here last night?

I search my memories and am disgusted to find out that no, I didn’t leave. It’s like one of the girls said earlier. I masturbated myself to sleep. Ugh. I frown, trying to picture who must have seen me, remembering the voices. Fugly was definitely one of them, so I’m assuming Ellis was standing next to him. Was the other Sloane? And Dolan?

Let’s not forget humiliation perched on my sweaty shoulder.

I pull my skirt back down and smooth it out, brushing my fingers off against the fabric. Most of my come has dried into my fingertips, but that doesn’t make me feel any less embarrassed about what I did.

Who the hell masturbates themselves to sleep?

What time is it? Morning? Late night?

How long have I been passed out in my own juices?

Taking a chance, I push the curtain open slightly and glance around to see who’s standing close enough for me to ask without drawing a lot of unwanted attention.

“Kansas,” I hiss to the pale one with freckles. She hangs out with Alaska, but I don’t have time to be picky.

She turns her head slowly, looking almost as sour as I feel. “Pleasuring yourself to help you sleep. Nicely done. There’s no way the masked one will bother you anymore, knowing you would rather pleasure yourself than let him touch you.” She smirks.

My eyes narrow. I was masturbating because of Azan. Not that I’m going to tell her. “Bitch, what time is it?”

“Does time matter in space?” She laughs as though she’s cracked the funniest joke, and I want to smack the freckles right off her heart-shaped face.

“I’m serious. How long have I been in here?”

“Oh, you want to know how long it’s been since you pleasured yourself to sleep?” She doesn’t answer until I nod in agreement, increasing my embarrassment. “It’s been a few hours. You know, they’re going to get your lover boy.” She snickers and says nothing else before she stands and moves to another part of the room.

“She’s in there.” Finally, I recognize Ellis’ voice, but it’s the last thing I want to hear. I see her standing with Hujun and the mouthy one – Taylis – from the day before.

And Azan.

Azan’s standing in the back of the small group, and though he’s far away, I swear he’s licking the inside of his mask.

Fuck, he’s tasting the air.

He’ll know. He’ll know it’s me.

He’ll know what I’ve been up to.

I reach to pull the curtain shut, just as he storms ahead of the pack and right at me.

He doesn’t ask before he shoves the curtain aside and stares down – right at the hammock of my skirt. Right where there’s a dried pool of lady seed between my thighs. He’s breathing hard, eyes completely locked on that area, flicking up occasionally to meet mine. I’m silent, stunned, and embarrassed he’s seeing me like this. So exposed.

He’s hard.

His dick has pitched a rock-hard tent in his shorts and only a few more moments pass before he lunges forward, seizes me, and flings me over his shoulder. I don’t scream. No words will come, and the rest of the girls are either too stunned or scared to stop him. Hujun grumbles something about consent, but Azan only nods without answering him.

There’s an awkward silence as Azan keeps me thrown over his shoulder.

I know where he’s taking me, and I hope my guess is correct as to why.

My back hits the surface of his bed before I see Azan’s face clearly again, and he looks as though he’s run a marathon. He’s glistening with sweat, and his cheeks are pink. And his dick. Mother of God. He’s so hard I’m sure he could cut a Thanksgiving turkey with his cock. I swallow hard, drinking in the heavenly sight, but also memorizing it in case I have to masturbate myself to sleep in the future.

He doesn’t say anything at first, only staring down at me. Breathing hard and occasionally glancing down at his dick. Poor fella. He looks like he needs to jerk off. Rocking a dick that hard in such small, tight shorts can’t be comfortable, but it sure does look good.

“Do you realize the others could smell you?” His words shock me at first, and his cock twitches again. Finally, he absently reaches down and strokes it a few times, for a bit of relief, and I lick my lips. “Did you hear me? The others could smell you. They could taste you. It was only because of Hujun and Dolan that everyone did not come rushing in.”

My eyes widen. He can only be talking about what I did in the privacy stall. I didn’t think about it. Making my arousal known, I can only imagine ensuing frenzy. And though Azan said it was Hujun that stopped others from coming in, I’m sure Ellis had something to do with it too.

I’ll be sure to thank her later.

“I smelled you the moment I rounded the corner,” he mutters, stroking his cock again, groaning in pain. “Before that, I thought I smelled you…”

“So why didn’t you come?”

The familiar slurping sound is my answer. God, he’s making me excited all over again. I can’t stop the small moan that escapes my lips. He’s still stroking the length of his dick over the fabric of his shorts. It’s all but impossible not to want to pounce him.

“Azan?” I ask a second time when he doesn’t answer. “Why didn’t you come if you smelled me?”

He frowns. I can’t see his mouth, but I know because of his eyes.

Then it dawns on me.

“You thought I was with someone else, didn’t you?” I can’t help the hurt in my voice. After spending time with him, cooking with him, and fighting to stay near him, he’s so easily able to believe I’d find pleasure with one of his brothers. In a privacy stall, no less.

Like I’m a fucking tease.

I stand, no longer as horny, but Azan keeps his stance, glaring down hard at me.

“I am sorry, York.”

He’s still stroking his dick. He’s accused me of getting it on with one of his brothers, and he’s stroking his damn dick at the same time. He takes in a deep breath, seeming to try and calm himself as I storm towards the door, but his massive bulk prevents me from leaving.

“Let me go,” I say, not wanting my voice to shake as he stares down at me, and I can’t glance down either, because his dick is all but pressed against my stomach.

When did this room get so small? And hot?

I’m still horny by the sight of his massive hand stroking the length of his dick, but also, I’m hurt he wouldn’t come for me because he thought I was with someone else.

I have no idea what to think.

I’m hurt. I’m horny. I’m really horny, but I’m still hurt, dammit.

“Please don’t go,” Azan pants, almost unable to keep his composure. “I don’t know why I assumed you would do something like that. When I smelled you. When I smelled how aroused you were—”

“You thought I was pleasuring one of your brothers?” I snap. “Azan, do you know why I was so horny? Do you know why I had to pleasure myself?”

He swallows. He doesn’t ask, but his eyes tell me he’s dreading the answer. Why, I’m not sure.

“I was thinking about you, Azan!” I snap, pushing him away from me. It takes all the strength I have to press my tiny hands against his stone-hard chest, but he stumbles back just the same, probably surprised I would put my hands on him in the first place.

I swear to God, I didn’t know aliens could have low self-esteem.

Doesn’t Azan see himself the way I do? How hot and bothered I get for him? How just his gaze alone makes me wet? How watching him stroke his dick while accusing me of cheating, ugh, I don’t know what he thinks, is still making me slick with desire? He obviously has no clue how much he gets me off. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation.

It’s the mask.

Whatever’s behind it, it’s the reason he won’t trust me. Or himself. Whatever’s behind the fabric is what gives him low self-esteem despite everything else about him. With that fucking mask on, it doesn’t matter that he’s built and sexy. It doesn’t matter that his eyes smolder. It doesn’t matter that he speaks thirty languages or has thighs like a running back. No. The only thing that matters to him is his mask, and unless I can get him to understand that I don’t give a damn, he’ll probably never believe how much I want him.

“If you want me to stay, you need to take off the mask.”

He takes a few steps back, instinctively touching the fabric covering his mouth. But then he steps forward again, almost afraid I’m going to leave if he doesn’t at least try to explain himself. I keep my footing as he hovers a few inches away from me and cocks his head to the side, lowering his eyes.

It’s an invitation.

“You’re going to let me take it off?” I can hardly stand how easy this is. It’s got to be a trick. My fingers uncurl and stretch up towards his face, and his eyes grow hesitant. He’s so nervous he’s trembling.

Am I ready for this? Am I ready for answers?

My fingers brush against the fabric coating his jaw, and he hisses loudly, leaning into my touch. His eyes grow heated, but they’re still darting back and forth. I don’t attempt to take off the mask, choosing to touch the exposed skin on his face. It’s cool and dry, despite the scales, and I brush a single finger against it to memorize the feel.

He’s not human.

It’s odd, but until now, I’ve never thought of him as an alien. Either way, it doesn’t bother me.

I continue to explore him, not taking off the mask, but unsure if I’m going to take it off eventually. Azan seems so vulnerable. I’m sure others aren’t used to seeing him like this. The Azan that walks around the halls is stoic and terrifying. This Azan – the one who allows me to stroke the scales on his cheeks with my fingers – is a broken and frightened child.

His cheekbones are strong and prominent, just like a model on a romance novel, and though there isn’t a hint of stubble near the edge of the mask, I can’t help but picture what he’d look like with a beard. Or a flannel shirt. I’m so turned on touching him, that I’m sure Azan can taste my arousal. This isn’t familiar territory. This isn’t a completely innocent exploration, but it’s not possessive groping either.

Suddenly, I’m not ashamed for jerking myself off. It’s because of the late-night masturbation session that I’m standing here with Azan. Alone, while he’s timid and nervous around me.

It’s strange to see a Sidyth like this.

Especially when he reaches up and rests his enormous hand over mine as I continue to explore him. He wants to feel what I feel. He wants to be part of what I’m feeling.

I lower my hand slightly, touch his chest and keep my eyes on his.

He’s still so hard. His poor dick. I’m only doing okay because of my pleasure session last night, but who knows how long it’s been for Azan? It could be hours, days, or years, and I would never know because I never bothered to ask.

Why does this Sidyth draw me in so much?

I’ll admit, when I signed up to be a Human Whore, I never expected to find kindness. The training academy raped and beat that hope right out of me after the first week. The Octonods and Drakens took care of the rest. I didn’t want the money; I wanted something different.

Fuck me twice over, I found it.

My fingers find their way to his stomach, and I trace over each pec, surprised by how hard he is, and the scales sparsely covering him there. His skin is chilled, even with all the sun rayers around the room. I’m sweaty, and I swear it’s brighter and warmer in here than it was the last time I was in his room. Did he turn them down earlier because I was in his room? The thought makes me excited.

“Azan…” I whisper, touching that insatiable muscle near his hip pointing down to his erect dick. “How could you think for a moment anyone but you would get me this excited? I spent the whole day with you, and then you left me back in the Gathering Room with hardly anything more than a pat on the back. I’m human. I needed relief.” I take a chance and brush against the crown of his cock. He sucks in a hiss, barely able to remain standing. A thick hand reaches over my head and braces the wall above me, keeping him in place. “Don’t you ever need relief?”

“You were pleasuring yourself earlier for me?” He manages to choke out, still bending forward so he doesn’t fall on top of me. His nose is all but buried in my hair. “Not another male? It is okay, York. I would not blame you. I am inadequate in many areas.”

“Like what?” I breathe, staring up at him. I want him to know how much he does it for me. He’s thick and strong, brilliant, and also shy. It doesn’t hurt that his muscles ripple with every movement, and his dick’s bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. “Azan, you’re beautiful to me.”

He scoffs, but I remove my hand from his cock and cup his jaw.

“You’re beautiful,” I say again, hoping my words reach him. “Your face. Your chest. Your stomach. Your thighs. Your hips. It doesn’t hurt that you have a great ass.” He jerks involuntarily, looking at me with questions in his eyes. “I saw you bending over when we were in the prep room.” I can’t help but laugh. “And I don’t think I need to tell you that your dick…”

“You like it.” It’s not a question this time. He says it like it’s a statement. Because it is.

“I like it,” I say just the same, so he hears the words. “I love it.”

“It is not like a human cock, I am sure.”

“I didn’t sign up for this star whore gig thinking I’d be around a human cock. Have you done research or something?” I tease.

“No.”

“Well, then. You don’t get to say that. Besides. From what I’m seeing? It’s better.”

He sucks in another breath, and it’s hard not to get more excited knowing I can turn him on this much with a few words. I’m honored, but I’m still not sure if he’ll ever be able to feel comfortable with me, or himself unless I figure out what’s going on behind the mask.

Touching his cock and watching his reaction isn’t a bad consolation prize. For either of us. I’m greedy, though. I can’t stand secrets. I can’t stand not knowing something. My hand trails back up to his face as much as it pains me to abandon his lower half. He takes in a sharp breath. I’m not the only one enjoying this gentle exploration.

I need more though. I can’t give myself to him unless I know.

I don’t care what’s wrong with him, but I have to know what’s wrong in the first place.

“Azan, let me remove it,” I whisper. “The mask. I don’t care what’s behind it, but I think you’ll feel better if you let me see.”

He doesn’t move, but he tenses up. He’s shutting down.

“I’m not expecting a full-on make-out session if you’re not comfortable.” And it’s true. If something behind that mask prevents him from putting his mouth on me, I’m sure we can find other ways to be intimate. I don’t mind getting creative. In fact, I’d love the challenge. He has to know that. He has to feel the desperation in my touch and see the longing for him in my eyes. “Azan, we don’t have to do anything physical, but you’ve got to give me something. You’ve got to give me a piece of you—”

“You should go.”

I pull my hand away. “What?” I don’t mean for my voice to reach a new level of shrill, but I’m kind of shocked to shit. “You’re kicking me out?”

“My brothers were worried you were pleasuring another male in the privacy stall.” He clears his throat. “Now that I know this is not the case, it’s late. We should probably both get back to bed.”

“Are you kidding me? Did you hear a word I said? Have you been acting on autopilot while stroking your damn dick and listening to me tell you how hot you are? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

His eyes lower, and he rubs the back of his neck, but I’m hardly in the mood to show him sympathy now. I told him how I felt. I told him he’s the only one that does it for me. I told him. I showed vulnerability to him. I thought he was showing it to me.

Fuck this.

“It’s the mask, isn’t it?” I snarl, getting pretty fed up with that piece of fabric covering his mouth. “It’s because I asked to see what’s beneath it? You coward! Don’t you get it? I don’t care about your stupid mask!”

“I am not an adequate partner,” he mutters. “I thought I could give myself to you but knowing you could be so much happier with another—”

“Dammit! What about what I want? What if I don’t think I could be happy with someone else? Did you ever think of that, you dumbass?”

He frowns and lowers his head. “I have much to think about.”

“Don’t bother,” I snap, pushing past him. “You’re a tease; you know that?”

“Tease? I have never teased you.”

“You could have fooled me,” I snarl. “Acting all sweet and innocent, only to turn me away. I bet you get off on this. I bet with the others—”

“I have never been with another—”

“Like I give a shit about your virgin status!” I scream, barely registering his confession.

He’s a virgin? He’s a damn virgin?

Now, I’m beyond humiliated. It’s like finding out you’re accidentally flirting with one your little brother’s friends.

“Please don’t go,” Azan says. “I’m very confused.”

“I don’t care if you’re confused! You want me to go? I’m out!”

“I am sorry, York.”

“Piss off.” I land my fist against his jaw, but I’m pretty sure it hurt me more than him, and cradling my fist, I storm away, expecting him to follow and make sure I’m okay.

He doesn’t.

What the hell?