Page 35 of Cosmic Castaway

“Bartholomew,” I breathed. “Teddy, please.”

His lovely aspect appeared in my mind, and he smiled.

I grunted, hips canting faster.

“My Bartholomew,” I moaned as I chased my pleasure. I spread my legs as far as my undershorts and trousers allowed to pull on my balls in the hopes of prolonging this. I wasn’t ready yet; though at the same time, this wasn’t what I needed.

I craved Bartholomew, but not his body alone. I didn’t want to simply fuck him. I needed to feel close to him, to see him smile, to feel him hold me tight, and to hear him cry my name.

Covering my mouth, I pumped faster and faster, picturing Bartholomew with me, groaning in my ear in his smooth voice. Pleasure burned down my spine as everything tightened. A muffled moan tore out of me at the same moment white ropes of seed splattered my hand and chest.

Panting, I shivered in the chill, coated in my release. That hadn’t been the plan, butshit it all, that was amazing. Still, as powerful as my release had been, it wasn’t enough. I needed Bartholomew to fill the void of intimacy.

With the corner of the blanket, I cleaned myself and yanked up my trousers.

Somewhat calmer, I started to work on the computer again. My claws clacked over the cracked, blinking screen. Nothing was working. I’d managed to return power to the cockpit, but not much else. I wasn’t an engineer. I maintained my racing shuttle, but rewiring or fixing a shattered computer was well beyond myexpertise. But now was the time to learn. Bartholomew needed me, and I refused to let him down.

I sorted through the bin of extra parts I had, none of which were exactly what I needed, then popped open the panel and got to work. I might have to cannibalize other parts of the ship, but none of that mattered. We could survive as we were, but not indefinitely. The distress signal and NAID were the priorities. If I got NAID operational, it could guide me through fixing the necessary systems, like lights or environmentals.

Time passed as I ripped and replaced and rewired. My movements were mechanical, and my thoughts were completely focused on the task in front of me. Nothing else. The cold, my feelings, my fear, and my worry all vanished.

“Mindy,” a steady voice said from the doorway.

I jerked, smacking my head into the console above me. “Hell everything,” I swore in English and clutched my forehead. A laugh sounded, and I stilled, soul pounding. Bartholomew leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed, as he chuckled. He was in nothing but my clothes, which hung off his thin frame. He didn’t even have a blanket to ward off the chill.

“What?” Why wasn’t he more covered? He was too underweight to withstand the cold.

“You need to rest.”

His favorite words. I shifted, groaning in pain. My stomach clenched. It was healing slowly. Uncomfortably slowly. Bartholomew was at my side in an instant, helping me. My arms instinctively wrapped around him, gathering him close. He didn’t fight my hold; instead, he pulled me flush against him. I took a deep inhale of his earthy scent and fought a groan. My imaginations from my earlier release returned with a vengeance.

I wanted my thoughts to be true.

“Why are you awake?” he asked.

“I need to get the distress signal and NAID fixed.”

“Who? Your ship?”

“No, the computer. NAID stands for…” I trailed off, trying to remember the right words in English—Network of Artificial Intelligence for Drakcol. I pursed my lips. Seth and Caleb had never taught me, as far as I remembered. “It’s intelligent, but not aware, like we are. Though there is a NAID, Edith, who’s a person like us. But NAID is…”

“I get it. It’s the main computer.”

I smiled. He was so smart.

Bartholomew frowned. “You’re still healing. You should be resting.”

“Why are you awake?” I locked my hands behind the small of his back. He did love to worry about me. That meant something, right?

“You weren’t there.”

Warmth contrary to the frigid cold suffused me. I pressed against his neck to breathe in the earthy fragrance that belonged to him alone. I wanted to bathe in that smell. He was so perfect.

“Go back to bed,” I said, shifting back or else I was going to try to kiss him, and I was still unsure of what was going on between us. More importantly, kissing was something he’d explicitly stated he didn’t want. I would never violate his trust again. Not ever. Fuck-friends had to wait until he desired me as I did him. For now, we were the best of friends. I smiled. I liked that, sort of. Something inside of me demanded that wasn’t enough. Not near enough.

He tightened his grip on me, refusing to let me move far from him. “I’m cold.”

Guilt surfaced with a vengeance. Bartholomew didn’t radiate as much heat as I did. Humans were naturally cooler than drakcol, according to Kalvoxrencol. My youngest brother loved to tell us facts about humans; now, I was grateful for hisobsession. If I wasn’t in the tent and beneath the blankets with Bartholomew, he had a harder time staying warm.

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