The Dead Dove Locker -- "I don't know what I expected."

[Mamorien]

Princess of the Void.

Dylan Thorogood awakens on day six of being a possession. There’s a pillow under his head and another between his knees and two more smushed up against his hips. These last two are round, purple, very warm, and attached to Xamika phar Zwinai nai Qena-Qel.

It was day 4 that they started joking about her sharing his bed. He doesn’t remember who initiated it, exactly, but they kept making allusions to sleeping in the same bed that night head-to-foot, and laughing, and the laughing didn’t go away but the joke did. As did the part where they’re head-to-foot.

So they’ve been sleeping together. Not sleeping but sleeping. Both in their clothes, neither touching. Not with intention, anyway, but this is the second morning that he’s woke up to find that they’ve shifted in the night and he’s cuddling her to him.

She’s just too cute. Too touchable. Like a teddy bear with a soft ass and gentle breath and a heartbeat he is only now noticing goes ba-da-dum like an Iron Maiden triplet beat.

Xami says.

His morning hard-on is pressed against her, cradled between the thick purple globes of her butt. It goes up, past where the squish turns into firm symmetrical muscle, past the small of her back, to the curve of her spine where it meets her waist.

God, it’s nearly halfway to her ribcage. He blinks blearily and wonders, not for the first time, if he’d even fit.

“Mmm.” Xamika stretches. Her shoulderblades glide beneath the criss-crossing straps of her top. Its stretchy material bunches above her tail as she arches and presses her butt further into the hollow of Dylan’s hips.

She swivels. “Someone’s awake,” she whispers.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s uh… biology.”

She scoots further against him. “Can I tell you something I’m probably overdue to? The Taiikari don’t use—well, the word in our language is Ganeamak. You might want to practice avoiding it, if you do end up getting chipped.”

“Ganeamak,” he repeats. “It’s a pretty word, for one you’re not supposed to use.”

“Pretty or not, there’s no call for it. It’s biology, right? You’re healthy.” She sighs happily, her toned shoulders loosening. “And you’re warm.”

She’s vibrating. It takes a moment for Dylan to realize what he’s feeling. He chuckles in surprise. “Xam, do Taiikari purr?”

Her tail wags. She bends forward. “They purr even harder when a cute boy rubs their back.”

She didn’t flash him or phrase it as an order, but now her butt is firmly hot-dogging him, and he reflects that there are many ways to get him to obey. His thumbs knead the defined muscles in her shoulders. “Luaz’ti ezzat,” she groans. “That feels good.”

Lower now. To her waist. Her curves are so dramatic that when he extends his hands, his fingers nearly fit all the way around her middle. Lower again, to the root of her tail. Her purr intensifies. The vibration against his hips. His kneading fingers are inches from that big, round butt he’s been staring at all morning.

“Hokay.” Her tail paffs lightly against his cheek. The fur tuft on it smells like lavender. “I don’t want this to stop ever, but we gotta get up.”

He’s mind-swimmingly hard. “Two minutes,” he murmurs.

“I’m gonna stay in bed for two hours if I let you keep going.” She turns over in bed and meets his eyes. Flash. “Xami says let me up.”

Dylan sighs and releases his curvy little lap pillow; she pats his hip and yawns herself to sitting.

They’ve adopted Xami says to get as close as they can to proper compulsion—he tried going off her flashing eyes but it wasn’t obvious enough. He can do whatever he wants before she says it, and he’s pretty sure she gets a kick out of how often he defies her requests. But once those words come out, it’s not optional anymore.

And that’s how it’ll be for the next two days.

At least, he thinks.

“So what’s on my agenda?” he asks. “Breakfast with the girls or with the humans?”

“Humans today.” Xamika squeezes into her uniform breeches. She catches him admiring her, and wiggles her hips more than is strictly required. “You have to show some face or they’ll think I’ve dragged you off to a torture chamber or something.” Two last little hops to get the stretchy fabric over her butt. Bounce, bounce. Dylan turns away before the urge to tackle her back into the bed gets too pressing.

He rummages through his drawers and finds a Bolt Thrower shirt from their Return to Chaos USA tour. It’s been folded neatly, like the rest of his stuff. How they retrieved it and at what materiel cost, he can’t imagine, but it’s a nice touch.

“Why do none of the other humans have this many skulls on their clothes, anyway?” Xamika asks.

“They lack the true power of Metal, I guess,” Dylan says. He pulls on his pants and feels Xamika’s close attention as she takes her turn to ogle. He smiles inwardly. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this drooled-over. It’s moments like this—the lingering looks, the lingering touches—that tell him he’s not misreading this whole thing, and she’s not forbearing out of disinterest.

He departs his cabin with a Xami says-derived promise to meet his temporary mistress after breakfast in the arboretum, and waves good morning to Viaq, who’s sneaking out of Santi’s quarters again.

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/120617...-xami-says
https://www.scribblehub.com/read/1419041...r/2622204/