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Why I Can't Stand Vila Restal

By Nova
Page 2 of 2

As he turned to fling the door open, I surprised myself by lunging after him in a most undignified fashion, grabbing his arm and gasping, 'Blake, wait. I admit I went too far.'

'Is that an apology, Avon?' he asked and I nodded fractionally. Blake studied me again, sighed and said, 'Oh well, I suppose it will have to do.'

He leaned forward and kissed my mouth lightly. Then he began to undo buttons and studs, one by one this time, pausing in between to stroke bared skin and offer more kisses. Too gentle and far too slow. I was quivering with impatience but I forced myself to remain passive, while at the same time using every skill I knew to present passivity as a provocation. Although I wanted Blake urgently, I could not let him see the extent of my need. The bullying at my boarding school was sexual in nature: as a by-product of an expensive education, a substantial proportion of the Alpha Elite considers it a defeat to show pleasure while being fucked. Not very logical, I know, but then, the lessons learnt in youth rarely are.

At any rate, I had never been greatly troubled by that particular limitation, since none of my previous sexual partners had seemed to deserve much encouragement. However, I might have guessed that Blake would insist on challenging my reticence.

'Do you like that?' he asked in a throaty whisper, every time his hand delved further inside my clothing. I groaned in response, head tilted back, knuckles jammed against my teeth. Blake watched me for a few seconds and then said, 'Avon, it's considered polite to answer a direct question. Let me try again. Do you like that?'

The interruption seemed unnecessary. I was here, wasn't I? Surely Blake knew me well enough to understand what that meant. However, despite his obvious arousal, it appeared that he was not prepared to continue until he had an answer, so I took a long shuddering breath, overcame twelve years of education and gasped a reluctant 'yes'.

'That's better,' he said approvingly. 'This "make me do it" game of yours may work on other occasions but I prefer to be sure my partners are willing.'

I could feel the rise and fall of my chest, barely two seconds for each breath. Damn. I was hyperventilating. I only hoped Blake would not notice. How on earth had he managed to reach into my brain and pick out the exact words that ran through it every time I allowed someone to fuck me? **Make me do it. Make me like it.** An erotic mantra that had always worked: always: except that in Blake's voice, it sounded obscurely wrong.

I had, I admit, nurtured a secret hope that Blake would indeed make me like it, more than anyone else had managed so far. After all, he had made me do a great many other things that I would not willingly have chosen. But, typically, it seemed that he had selected the most inconvenient moment possible to turn democratic. If he were waiting for a display of spontaneous enthusiasm, he would wait a long time.

Or so I thought initially, although in fact I found myself responding with unusual ease. Blake's tastes (an unfortunately appropriate word) tend towards the oral. Over the next hour he must have licked or sucked almost every square centimetre of my body, rendering me acutely aware of erogenous zones whose existence I had never previously suspected. It was a gentle, thorough and totally unnerving process, bearing no resemblance to anything I had experienced with the Blake-substitutes encountered on my jaunts with Vila. I found it excruciatingly painful.

In the end, unable to endure another of his featherlight caresses, I twisted away, whispering, 'Blake, it hurts.'

He pulled back and looked down at me, alarmed. Then he smiled and said, 'Only because you're fighting it, sweetheart. Is it so hard to let yourself be loved?'

'I don't know,' I said irritably. 'I have never tried before.'

'Not even with the mythical Anna?' he asked, still smiling.

I shrugged. 'I liked Anna because I thought she was as ruthless as I. When she let herself be caught by the Federation, I rather lost faith in my own judgment.'

Blake stared at me for a few seconds, then threw back his head and roared with laughter. 'Well, you were right when you told me I wouldn't understand about you and Anna,' he gasped finally. 'That explanation would never have occurred to me. Have you always been so well-defended?'

'With one exception,' I said, barely audible, although naturally Blake heard it.

'You mean me, Avon?' he asked in surprise. 'Strange, I would've said the way you treat me was a prime example of your defences.'

For some reason I felt hurt by that. Blake noticed and immediately began to stroke and pet me, as though I were indeed a sulky child. Embarrassingly enough, I responded in the most obvious manner possible, which made it difficult to pull away as I had intended. Blake wrapped his fist around my aching cock and said, 'Good. Time for your next lesson. You've learned to take it more slowly. Let's see whether you can learn to ask for what you want.'

He squeezed my cock encouragingly and rolled me onto my stomach. I felt a cool trickle run down the crack between my buttocks, followed by the slippery glide of a hand as Blake began to work the oil into my skin. His fingertips swirled round the tight pucker of muscle that they found there, teasing and massaging, dipping deeper for a second and instantly withdrawing. Repeating the procedure to the point where I was squirming across the sheets in an ecstasy of frustration.

Then, abruptly, his hand was gone, replaced by a more diffuse pressure. I gasped in recognition and thrust back, hoping to impale myself on his cock, but he laughed and moved with me, saying, 'Remember, Avon, you only have to ask.' Evidently, he was determined to deny me until I proved that I had learnt his lesson. It was one of the traits I had always disliked most in Blake: his tendency to fixate on a goal and pursue it with single-minded it intensity until it was achieved. But perhaps I had merely been jealous. Certainly, I did not appear to dislike his obsessiveness when it was focussed on me. I resisted a little longer, just for form's sake, and then gave in.

'Blake, make love to me,' I demanded, an expression that I could not remember having ever used before. He sighed shakily and let his cock sink inside me, so I decided to indulge him by repeating the command. After that I lost track of events for a while, although I believe that at some point I may have abbreviated it to 'Love me, Blake' and that Blake was whispering back, 'Yes, Avon. Yes, sweetheart. I do, I do.'

By the end of Blake's second lesson I felt as though I had been dismantled and reassembled, rather like one of my experiments with the Liberator's technology. I was the same as before and yet, having been so completely known, I was strangely different. All of that gentle licking and sucking seemed to have scraped me raw. Every time I moved, my heart hurt. Tears started to leak from under my eyelids and Blake lifted a big hand to wipe them away.

'Well, Avon?' he asked. 'Are you ready to tell me how you feel? Is this just a one-night stand or -?'

'No,' I said, far too swiftly. Having made an elementary mistake, I then compounded it by adding, 'As a matter of fact, I suspect I may love you.'

Blake grinned. 'May?' he repeated. 'Oh well, luckily I wasn't expecting unqualified enthusiasm. Although, come to think of it, I just got more than I expected. Do you really mean that, Avon?'

'Yes ,' I spat. 'How many times do you want me to say it?'

'A good many more,' he said promptly. 'I like hearing it, sweetheart, so you'd better learn to enjoy telling me.'

Blake is, without question, the most irritating man I have ever met. No, on second thoughts, that is not entirely true. He competes with Vila Restal for the honour. Between the two of them, they are enough to destroy anyone's peace of mind. I closed my eyes to signal that the conversation was over and almost instantly fell asleep, so quickly that I forgot to detach myself from Blake.

I slept more soundly than usual, as though he were guarding me in my dreams.

When I woke, I was alone in the bed. To begin with, I felt relieved that Blake had taken himself off, avoiding the inevitable anticlimax of the morning after. Then, as I sat up and pushed the bedclothes away, I smelt Blake on the sheets: as distinctive as a signature, honey and aloes mixed. My cock stiffened reflexively and my face burned. An inappropriately strong reaction, almost as though I missed him, which, of course, I did not.

I quit Blake's cabin at once, borrowing a bathrobe that also, inconveniently, carried his scent. Safe in the shower room, I plotted half a dozen ways to convince him that declarations made in bed are never to be relied on. That restored my composure, at least until I caught sight of my face in the mirror: eyes dark and dazed, mouth still swollen from his kisses. Dangerous, indeed! Between the two of us, Blake had undoubtedly proved himself to be the dangerous one - dangerous to me, at any rate.

Back in my cabin, I allowed a brief moment of self-indulgence, burying my face in the bathrobe and inhaling its scent deep into my lungs. Then I tossed it onto the floor and swung away. Armouring myself in my severest leathers, I checked my reflection, steadied the set of its mouth and prepared to face the others with as much of my usual hauteur as I could currently muster.

I emerged onto the flight deck just as Vila came reeling in from the teleport bay. Since timing is crucial in these matters, I made sure I had the first word, saying, 'Well now, did you have an enjoyable time with your curly-haired hunk?' in tones of silken malice.

Vila's eyes met mine and then travelled downwards. 'Yeah,' he said, grinning like the fool that he is. 'Have a good time with yours?'

I touched a hand to the side of my throat and felt the tender flesh of a bruise. Oh hell. Trust Roj Blake to make his mark. Trust Vila Restal to notice.

Attack being the best method of defence, I said instantly, 'You cut me out deliberately, didn't you, to provoke me into making a move on Blake? Damn you, Vila. Leave me alone in future. You have no business interfering with my life.'

'Wrong again,' he said, unperturbed. 'Fact is, I had to do something, quick smart. Otherwise I might've ended up making a pass at you myself on one of our little jaunts - and that would've been a fiasco for everybody concerned.'

He reached up and kissed me on the mouth for the first - and, believe me, last - time. As I stared at him incredulously, he grinned and reeled out, passing Blake who was on his way in. Vila paused to slap him on the back and say 'Lucky dog': an unmistakable insinuation which prompted Blake to stride over and kiss me soundly, in full view of Jenna and Cally who had followed him onto the flight deck.

So much for my best opportunity to show Blake that he should not presume on the events of the previous night. Vila might believe we had avoided a fiasco but the present scene was as close to my definition of a fiasco as I ever hoped to come. Jenna and Cally were exchanging matchmaker smiles, like doting aunts. Blake was folding a possessive arm around me and I, taken by surprise, was actually leaning into his embrace. I blushed for the first time since I had been sent to boarding school and turned my head away, only to be confronted by Vila, propped against the wall and giggling helplessly.

You see? Is it any wonder that I can't stand Vila Restal?


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