Down to Two
Blaze
Stepping behind him, I lift his shoulder-length hair and wash his neck and shoulders, then lean over him to reach the basin. My breasts drag across his head. The brief contact sparks arousal into my nipples which then races through my body, caroming through every cell, lighting everything on fire.
I could do this for hours. It’s more than cleaning, more than mere ablutions. I’m paying homage at the altar of his body. It’s blue and alien and is covered in thick plates as nature’s way of keeping him safe.
But it’s beautiful and masculine and perfect in the way of an apex predator. Even on his knees, his open-lidded gaze looking up at me, he’s filled with masculine strength and menace.
He easily wrests the washcloth from me and stands, twirling me so he’s facing my back. His hands are gentle as he wipes me clean.
This exercise is wordless. He pulls off my clothes and bathes me one small swath at a time. One hand wields the cloth, the other palm smooths the path behind it. I don’t know why he cleans me this way, other than it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced. It seems he can’t get enough of me. He has to touch as much of my skin as he can.
I’m vaguely aware that three more drones have joined us in this cave. They’ve got us covered for 360 degrees. Their red lights are off, but I have no doubt every paying customer in the galaxy is watching. It’s like the pre-game show of the Super Bowl.
And I don’t care. Don’t give a shit about them or Jahzara Zedd or the blue Whelpie network exec Katann Hahn. I’m going to shut it all out. I’m going to banish the thought that tonight is most probably my last night alive, and that Titan will most probably be the one to do the deed.
I’m here and I’m alive and I deserve pleasure and I vote this male most likely to provide it.
“Get dressed, idiots,” Jahzara says, her perfectly evil face fills all five drones’ screens. “There are clean clothes at the foot of the bed. Hurry. You’ll be taking them off for the cameras soon enough.”
I don’t know who was in charge of the wardrobe choices. Maybe it’s because they didn’t know my size, but their odd choices suit me fine.
There’s a purple bandeau that is stretchy enough it doesn’t need a closure. All it does is cover my boobs. The matching thong leaves little to the imagination. That doesn’t matter, they’ll be on the floor in a matter of moments and even the dullest people in the galaxy won’t need any imagination.
Next comes a silken tunic in swirls of twenty shades of purple. It has matching harem pants with slits up the sides.
When I’m dressed and look over at Titan, he’s wearing deep purple pants with no top. He looks like something out of the Arabian nights. And he’s gorgeous. I guess the wardrobe master is a female, and I’ll also guess she has a crush on him. The purple clothes may not look good on me, but they accentuate everything handsome about the gladiator.
His black hair is still glistening from my earlier attentions, and his ice-blue eyes look as if he would like to devour me.
Whoever chose these flowy garments obviously never watched a strip show on Earth, but it doesn’t matter. I have four pieces of clothing. I’ll make it work.
Red is sitting on the foot of the bed, his humongous eyes glancing from Titan to me and back again. I know it’s ridiculous, but it’s almost as if he knows what’s coming next and doesn’t want it to happen.
“Yeah, little guy. This wasn’t on the top of things I wanted to do on my summer vacation, either.”
He gives me a slow blink.
“Showtime!” Jahzara’s smug voice interrupts.
Titan’s former owner, the network executive Katann Hahn, hijacks our video. “Titan, you’ll sit on the foot of the bed watching her.” His voice is tight, his mouth downturned in contempt. “The audience thinks you two are in love, so you’re going to sell it. If you don’t, I’ll shock her. You’ve grown protective of her. That should be enough incentive to behave.
“Slayer, you seem to have been born lacking anything resembling grace or style, but do your best to keep the audience interested. Once you’re nude, I expect you two to get down to business. The longer you keep the show going, the more credits we all make. Get it?”
“I’d like to see the tote board at all times,” I say, knowing full well my demand is going to earn me another shock right before the cameras start to roll.
Instead, I see our names appear on the bottom of the screen. We’re both at zero, of course. Doesn’t the viewing public wonder why we have no credits? Why do I even ask? I think people have been trained not to ask questions, just enjoy the show.
The drones’ lights shine brighter as Zedd’s beautiful image reappears on the screen. She’s got her fake smile plastered on her face, which must mean we’re being broadcast.
“Females and males, welcome to our special pay-per-view performance by two of our favorite contestants—Slayer and Titan.” She pauses as the soundtrack blares enthusiastic clapping and hooting.
“I recommend ushering your minor younglings out of the room because we’re about to see some images that are designed for adult-viewing only. I hope you’ve enjoyed watching them so far…”
The screen flickers with a quick update of our progress: our skirmish leaving the building, the fight with the Halckons, and thecrindleattack.
“Although this couple is all business during the day, nighttime brings out another side of these two fierce competitors.”
