firmly. "As we did."
"If I live long enough," I said grimly. "You know, I think this tour of the palace should have waited a couple of days. I feel like I ought to stay in bed for a while."
At the mere mention of my bed, they were both on their feet instantly, and Tychar gathered me up in his arms. Trag got me another drink from the fountain, and before I knew it, I was being carried swiftly back to my room.
Having just kissed him, being held against Tychar's chest while he carried me was almost enough to make me pass out again, but I did my best to remain conscious enough to enjoy it. I wanted nothing more than to curl up with him forever—along with a big pitcher of water and a bucketful of the juiciest fruits and vegetables this dry rock of a planet could produce—and was about to say something to that effect, when Wazak intercepted us in the hallway.
"She is injured?" Wazak asked brusquely. It was a wide corridor, but as big as he was, he effectively blocked our path
"She was overcome by the heat," Tychar explained.
"This should not be allowed," Wazak said sternly.
"See that it does not happen again." With a glare which was undoubtedly meant to be intimidating, he swept on past us, his tail waving behind him.
"Whoo-hoo!" I exclaimed softly when we were out of earshot. "Good thing you didn't slug me when you caught me kissing your brother, Trag! You'd have been locked up in the real jail for that, and then the only sex you could ever have would be with a lizard named Grunge."
"That's about all I can get as it is," Trag muttered ruefully. "Not that I'd want it." He blew out a pent-up breath. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to bed down with both of us?" he asked hopefully. "I didn't really mean it when I said you were weak."
"I'm sure you didn't," I said, "but right now, I don't think I'm up to bedding down with one man, let alone two! Besides, that would be too... promiscuous—or greedy!—which, as a general rule, I am not. "
"I'm sure you aren't!" Trag said hastily. He seemed to be regretting his earlier show of temper. "It's just that I—" He paused there and gave his hair a yank in frustration. "Oh, shit! I blew it, didn't I?"
"Probably so," I agreed, though the thought of having both of them was beginning to grow on me. I thought it best to change the subject.
"Hey, tell me something," I began. "How come you two talk so differently? I thought you were brothers, but you don't even have the same accent."
"I wasn't raised on Zetith," Trag replied. "I lived with our uncle, who owned a space freighter, which he taught me to pilot. We spent a lot of time in space— and in spaceports, too, so I learned a few things the guys back home didn't —and I was on my way back home to find a mate when I got caught in the middle of the war."
"Tough luck," I remarked, hoping to sound reasonably sympathetic.
"Yeah, it was," he agreed. "And as for the way Tychar talks, I think he only hangs on to that Zetithian accent because all the women around here seem to like it—sounds really suave, you know? I've taught him the right way to talk—and he does most of the time—but sometimes he holds onto the old ways a little too tight."
"Nothing wrong with that," I said, "though he seems to be a little bit more progressive than you are in other ways. After all, he hasn't held it against me that I'm not Zetithian!"
"I don't think he does, either," said Tychar.
Following his downward glance, I saw why. Trag's cock was every bit as hard as Tychar's had been all day.
"I haven't had a hard-on in twenty years!" Trag declared.
"Almost forgotten what it feels like. None of the women around here smell good to us at all, but Tychar was right, because you smell absolutely fabulous."
Tychar grinned knowingly. "I told you so."
"Sorry, Trag," I said meekly. "Didn't mean to get you all hot and bothered."
"Oh, I'm not complaining," he assured me, "it's just that I have an idea it's not gonna do me a damn bit of good to have one
"If I live long enough," I said grimly. "You know, I think this tour of the palace should have waited a couple of days. I feel like I ought to stay in bed for a while."
At the mere mention of my bed, they were both on their feet instantly, and Tychar gathered me up in his arms. Trag got me another drink from the fountain, and before I knew it, I was being carried swiftly back to my room.
Having just kissed him, being held against Tychar's chest while he carried me was almost enough to make me pass out again, but I did my best to remain conscious enough to enjoy it. I wanted nothing more than to curl up with him forever—along with a big pitcher of water and a bucketful of the juiciest fruits and vegetables this dry rock of a planet could produce—and was about to say something to that effect, when Wazak intercepted us in the hallway.
"She is injured?" Wazak asked brusquely. It was a wide corridor, but as big as he was, he effectively blocked our path
"She was overcome by the heat," Tychar explained.
"This should not be allowed," Wazak said sternly.
"See that it does not happen again." With a glare which was undoubtedly meant to be intimidating, he swept on past us, his tail waving behind him.
"Whoo-hoo!" I exclaimed softly when we were out of earshot. "Good thing you didn't slug me when you caught me kissing your brother, Trag! You'd have been locked up in the real jail for that, and then the only sex you could ever have would be with a lizard named Grunge."
"That's about all I can get as it is," Trag muttered ruefully. "Not that I'd want it." He blew out a pent-up breath. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to bed down with both of us?" he asked hopefully. "I didn't really mean it when I said you were weak."
"I'm sure you didn't," I said, "but right now, I don't think I'm up to bedding down with one man, let alone two! Besides, that would be too... promiscuous—or greedy!—which, as a general rule, I am not. "
"I'm sure you aren't!" Trag said hastily. He seemed to be regretting his earlier show of temper. "It's just that I—" He paused there and gave his hair a yank in frustration. "Oh, shit! I blew it, didn't I?"
"Probably so," I agreed, though the thought of having both of them was beginning to grow on me. I thought it best to change the subject.
"Hey, tell me something," I began. "How come you two talk so differently? I thought you were brothers, but you don't even have the same accent."
"I wasn't raised on Zetith," Trag replied. "I lived with our uncle, who owned a space freighter, which he taught me to pilot. We spent a lot of time in space— and in spaceports, too, so I learned a few things the guys back home didn't —and I was on my way back home to find a mate when I got caught in the middle of the war."
"Tough luck," I remarked, hoping to sound reasonably sympathetic.
"Yeah, it was," he agreed. "And as for the way Tychar talks, I think he only hangs on to that Zetithian accent because all the women around here seem to like it—sounds really suave, you know? I've taught him the right way to talk—and he does most of the time—but sometimes he holds onto the old ways a little too tight."
"Nothing wrong with that," I said, "though he seems to be a little bit more progressive than you are in other ways. After all, he hasn't held it against me that I'm not Zetithian!"
"I don't think he does, either," said Tychar.
Following his downward glance, I saw why. Trag's cock was every bit as hard as Tychar's had been all day.
"I haven't had a hard-on in twenty years!" Trag declared.
"Almost forgotten what it feels like. None of the women around here smell good to us at all, but Tychar was right, because you smell absolutely fabulous."
Tychar grinned knowingly. "I told you so."
"Sorry, Trag," I said meekly. "Didn't mean to get you all hot and bothered."
"Oh, I'm not complaining," he assured me, "it's just that I have an idea it's not gonna do me a damn bit of good to have one
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