She gasped. "You're not helping me bathe."

"I'm not?" His fingers slipped beneath her undergarment and brushed the curls between her legs. "I seem to be washing your body more than my own."

When he delved deeper, slick moisture covered his hand. The sonic shower dissolved it as he rubbed her, but more fluid leaked from her body. She tilted sideways suddenly, resting part of her weight against the wall.

He pressed her closer to the wall, closer to him. Wherever they touched, the electrons pulsed between them. "Tell me," he urged. "Tell me the English words. I want to speak to you in our native language, Daria."

"In my native language."

She sounded fierce. She must resent Prendarian words, as many Earthers did. He truly didn't understand. Language was merely language; communication had no race. But he respected her feelings. And with her ass pressed against his cock, her body oozing creamy warmth onto his hand, he would not debate. "As you will."

She turned in his arms, dislodging his hand from her nest, then slipped her hands around his neck and pulled his head down next to hers. Her belly, softly rounded, brushed his stiff cock; her breath whispered in his ear over the soft whirring of the sonic waves. "Pussy," she said. "Cunt. Twat. Snatch. Vulva."

She must be blushing. He tried to lift his head to see, but her hands refused to release him.

Enough. He pulled her skirt down, and her scrap of an undergarment came with it. His hand wriggled between her thighs again. "You said there were dozens."

"I can't remember any more."

He punished her by dipping a finger into her heat, then withdrawing. "Tell me the word you prefer. Or shall I use them all?"

She drew a deep breath. "I can't... can't think with your fingers there."

He grinned. A Prendarian woman would have demanded a climax by now. Her artless ways made him feel very much a man. "Shall I stop?"

Her hands clutched at his arms. "No."

"Then tell me the word. Give me the word for this little nest that weeps upon my hand."

For long moments he felt nothing but the heat of her breath against his neck, the sheen of her intimate fluid rapidly dissolving in the shower. He kept his strokes light, teasing. She'd climax with a fury this time.

"Nest," she answered at last. "I like... your word."

Perhaps she wasn't as opposed to Prendarian as she seemed. Or perhaps she truly objected to the English words.

"And you like my fingers in your nest?"

He felt her swallow. "Yes."

"Does the shower make you tingle?"

She nodded, her face buried against his shoulder.

He found her bud with a finger; stroked it lightly. She leaned on him and whimpered. With his hand focusing the electrons, she must feel torment in her sex.

He touched her bud more firmly, and she gasped. "This sweet little spot -- is this your pussy?"

"Clit," she said breathlessly. "Pussy means... the whole thing." Her fingers dug into his biceps. "And in... in your language?"

He kissed the top of her head. "English is one of my languages." But he grasped her meaning. "In Prendarian... bud. Like a flower... waiting to open."

He'd never understood the analogy before. Now, with Daria squirming against his body, writhing against his hand, it seemed she would literally bloom into climax.

Her breath rushed against his shoulder in shallow pants. Everywhere they touched, electrons whirled against his skin, raising sensitive nerve endings. Especially in his cock.

"Climax for me, Daria." What word had she used earlier? "Come for me."

He nuzzled down until he found her mouth and kissed her, filling her with his tongue, licking deep inside even as one finger plunged into her nest.

He thrust his hand in a harsh rhythm, the way his cock would thrust into her. Soon. He waited a moment... a moment that felt like an age... then he gave her a second finger, thrusting deep. Ah, she was tight... and hotter than anything he'd ever felt.

With a turn of his wrist, his thumb tickled her bud. Her clit. She cried out, a cry quickly muffled on his shoulder. Her mouth dampened his skin.

He kept the rhythm steady, kept brushing her clit with his thumb. Patience.

He knew the signs, knew them well. Her breath came harsh, her body felt tight. Almost there. Almost. He pressed his cock against her hip to ease his need, moving in tandem with his fingers, but never relenting in the rhythm of his hand.

She clung to him and gave a sharp, wordless cry. And then he felt her shudder against him, felt her tiny feminine muscles contract around his fingers, felt a spurt of heat, of wetness.

And he cradled her in his free arm, stroking her pussy while the spasms shook her. Sheltering her body until she relaxed against him, limp and drained.

When his lips met her forehead, he felt dampness at her brow. Oh, no. More tears? He leaned back and looked at her. No, just a sheen of sweat from her exertions. He smiled and took his hand from her nest so he could wrap both arms around her, holding her close.

It took several moments before her breath was calm. Then he felt her fingers skimming down his chest... oh, so slowly... dipping into his navel... reaching for his cock. The shimmering waves from the shower followed her tormenting hand.

When she grasped his root with those warm fingers, the sensation was beyond imagination. Throbbing, tickling, teasing. As if she cupped fiery electrons in her hand and held them against his cock.

He'd burst in an instant. In her hand.

He groaned. "By the gods, I want to fuck you."

She jumped a little, but held his cock fast. "That's one English word you know."

His head was fogged with desire; he could barely think. But he recognized a hint of surprise in her voice. Perhaps... disapproval. "Too vulgar?"

"Not for me." She brushed her lips across his chest, finding a nipple and suckling hard. Exactly the way he liked it. "But we can't lie down in here."

And she was too short for a vertical coupling. He groped at the wall behind him, found the hidden catch, and slid out the short utility seat. When he sat down, her hand released his cock.

He reached out for her with empty arms. Arms that craved her warm, soft body. "Come. Sit astride me."

She moved to stand beside him, then sat on his lap with her legs together, her side against his chest. How did she think to ride him like this?

Before he could open his mouth to speak, she turned to face him and her knee lifted. When that incredible leg passed in front of his face, only to settle around his torso, his mouth went dry. By the gods, just the sight of that stunning leg flashing a mere hand's width from his lips nearly caused him to spill.

His hand followed, found the satiny limb... and almost pulled it back up so he could kiss and nibble at her calf. Later, at his leisure, he'd explore these smooth, exotic legs with his mouth.

But now... ah, now she was sitting astride him, her nest open and oh, so close to his aching cock. And she looked -- why, she looked nervous. Blushing, her eyes downcast.

She should look proud. Arrogant. Like a woman who knew that her man truly lusted for her body. Like a woman who knew the power she wielded. Ready to mount him and ride him to pleasure. Couldn't she tell how badly he wanted her?

"Daria." His voice sounded far more serious than he'd intended. Somehow, it seemed vital that she believe him.

"Yes?"

With both hands, he touched her thighs, spread so wide on his lap. Relishing the heat under his palms. "Your legs are beautiful."

She blushed and smiled, just a tiny smile. "Thank you."

He reached up and stroked her hair back from her eyes, over her shoulder. "And your hair..." And your eyes. And your lush, too-wide mouth...

"Very beautiful," he said, his voice hoarse.

The color in her cheeks deepened. "I don't need compliments."

"Yes, you do." His fingers were tangled in her hair already, so he brought her head down, then reached up to kiss her. She scooted closer, shifting her weight up his thighs, until the wet heat of her nest pressed against his cock.

She straightened, moving her lips out of reach. He almost complained, but now her breasts were level with his mouth. Those huge, velvety areolas beckoned to him. He sucked one nipple deep, and she cried out.

"Too much?" he murmured.

"No," she whispered. Her hands cradled his head. "I'm just... sensitive."

He smiled against the slope of her breast. "I'll be gentle." Gentle but persistent.

"But I thought..." She fell silent.

"What?""I thought you wanted to fuck me," she said, all in a rush.With his cock rubbing against her pussy, that must be obvious. "You'll hear no objections from me."

He grasped her hips, lifting; she reached down, holding his cock steady. They moved in perfect accord. When he settled her onto his lap, his cock sank deep into her heat. And still the shower flowed over them, around them, a rush of warm air and tickling electrons.

She wriggled on his lap, gripping his shoulders for leverage, nudging back and forth. Nudging his cock by tantalizing degrees. He was buried so deep, he swore he felt the edge of her womb.

"I can't move," she said.

He released a shuddering breath. "You're moving quite well."

He pushed at her hips, pulling her back and forth, his cock moving barely a finger's width inside her. Even that slight movement was too much. Almost too much.

His mouth went to her breasts, licking, sucking, seeking sustenance. And still she wriggled, pulsing around his cock.

"Can you... like this?" she asked.

Even riding him, fucking him, she hesitated to say the words. If he fucked her a hundred times, she'd probably still blush in his arms. He nuzzled his cheek against her breast. "Can I... what?"

Her breath puffed against his forehead, an exasperated sigh. "You know."

So shy. He'd make her say the words. "Tell me."

"Can you come like this?"

Barely a whisper. No doubt her cheeks blazed. Just imagining it made him smile, despite her squirming, teasing thrusts. "Can you?"

She shook her head, and the ends of her hair brushed over his shoulders. "It's your turn."

His turn? Did she not realize how many times a woman could climax? This time he'd bring her with him, by the gods. He dropped one hand between them, found her bud with his thumb, and stroked. Relentlessly.

"Climax for me," he demanded. "Come around my cock."

She whimpered, a restrained moan. Ah, the words stirred her. Excited her. "Ride me, Daria. Fuck me."

She moaned outright. Her breath rasped against his ear; her arms clutched him tight.

His thumb made a tiny circle against her. "Feel the electrons on your clit. My thumb on your clit."

Her breath came quickly. She clutched at him wildly, pushing against him faster. Harder. His back stung from the bite of her fingernails.

But he wanted more. He wanted words from her. "Feel good?"

She whimpered.

His thumb stopped. She cried out.

"Tell me."

"You feel... oh..."

He grabbed her upper arm with his free hand, urging her higher, giving her more friction, deeper thrusts. His hips strained against her. And he gave her his thumb again, gave her the pressure he knew she needed.

Her body fluttered around him.

"Yes, yes." He groaned. "So tight..."

"Don't stop." The words came between gasping breaths. "Oh, please don't stop."

"Never." His thumb, slick with her fluid, slid against her clit.

Her eyes went wide with wonder, then closed. With a little cry, she climaxed -- she came -- gripping and squeezing his cock with rippling contractions, shuddering on his lap. His own need took over, desperate and insistent. He thrust up --hard -- driving into her with a fierce rhythm, gripping her hip with his free hand to grind her down against him. And the milking heat of her body took him with her. He shattered in a mindless rush of sensation, letting go of all restraint, letting the rush of his seed fill her, claim her.

She collapsed onto his chest, her head falling to his shoulder, and he held her close, gasping for air.

"Dahsh'kara," he murmured.

She shifted a little, but didn't raise her head. "What does that mean?"

He smiled. "I'll tell you soon... after you climax five times in one encounter."

"Hmm. Only two this time," she said, a teasing note in her voice. "You must be slipping."