His nostrils flare, his tail lashing behind him like an angry cat. "Let them try. I will make them regret it."
"You're supposed to be working on becoming civilized," I remind him. "That's not a very civilized thing to say."
"That's because I don't care if I'm civilized or not." Victor leans in, looming over me in a way that makes me want to squirm with heat. "I'm only in this for the kisses."
I should be upset at that confession. I want him to do this for himself. But at the same time…I'm not exactly upset about the kissing part of the bargain myself.
Victor leans in, and for a moment, I think he's going to start the day with a kiss—only to have him jerk away, staring at the walls of the house. A look of boyish delight crosses his face. "It's raining again."
I bite back a smile, because he looks so thrilled at that realization. "When it rains here, it tends to rain for a few days, yeah." I watch his expression. "You like the rain?"
"It smells so good. And I like the feel of it on my skin. It feels…clean."
I get it. For a man who's been cooped up in a cell ever since he awoke, rain must be fresh and new to him. "We'll probably have to turn the wheels on the pump house again."
He heads for the door. "I can do that right now—"
Before he can move away, I grab his hand. Victor looks down at me as I squeeze his fingers. "You should eat breakfast first."
After we eat a very uninspiring meal, Victor heads outside to the pump house. I hear a low, metallic grinding noise that tells me he's turning the crank, and then it sounds like a toilet flushing. I guess that's the water being sucked away. It's something I'm going to have to get used to if the pump house needs to be utilized regularly. I check in on Victor after I clean up the kitchen, and he's still at work inside the small pump house, cleaning and oiling the gears with a determined look on his face. The floor is mucky with mud, and I immediately start sneezing and retreat inside.
Overall it's a quiet day. Victor obsesses with cleaning the pump house and the stone walkway that's more or less been covered with mud at this point. He scrapes the packed down mud off flagstones, revealing a pretty path connecting the house to the pumps. I think he likes being outdoors, and the rain doesn't bother him, so I let him work there all day. We can always do more practical lessons later tonight. Maybe I should show him how to make meals for himself, or how to use the comm panels.
Akris comes by late afternoon with a large bag of things I've requested. There's still no new mattress for Victor or a chair. Those are being printed in town and will be delivered tomorrow. I'm a little disappointed, but at least there are extra blankets and towels now, along with some spices to make the bland foodstuffs we've been given a bit more exciting. There's also a package of meat, because I know Victor likes meat, and I want to give him things that make him happy. I want to show him that there are good things in the universe that don't have to be bargained for. That sometimes, all you have to do is ask.
More than that, I need him to realize that not all the guards are like Riffin and Novis. Some are married to their jobs, true, but a lot are just young alien men with their first posting away from home, doing a job. It's not that Victor's the enemy. He's a job. The sooner he realizes that, the sooner he can make friends and maybe realize that even though we've been thrown into the deep end of the pool, so to speak, we can still swim.
I set out all the ingredients for dinner, so Victor can make it. I rearrange what little furniture we have so we can sit together (though a small, naughty part of me thinks I should leave it as it is so I have to sit on his lap again). I wait by the table, drumming my fingers while I wait for him to come in. Not for the first time, I wish I had a book to read. There's a few treasured books back in Port that have been scraped together, but it seems selfish to ask for one when there's such a demand for them.
The door opens.
I sit up as Victor enters, soaked to the bone and covered in mud. But his grin is wide with satisfaction. "I have uncovered the entire path."
"That's wonderful," I say, and then promptly sneeze.
His expression immediately changes to concern. "Why are you sneezing? You didn't go outside."
I rub my nose. "Allergies. It's the dirt."
Victor glances down at his muddy legs and trou, and at the trail of mud he's dragged into the house. He's not wearing shoes, probably because those lethal toe-claws of his won't fit in any mesakkah or human shoe, and it's just made the mess worse. He frowns down at his appearance. "This is bad, then. I need to clean off."
I sneeze again, hating that my nose is filling up. I wave a hand at the bathroom. "Go shower off. I'll clean the floors."
He heads into the lavatory and shuts the door behind him, and I program one of the cleaner bots to take care of the mess. I blow my nose twice, wipe my watering eyes while the bot merrily spins a path on the floor, getting rid of the mud. It takes me a minute to realize that the lavatory is silent. There's no sound of running water.
Well that's not good. I hop off the countertop and move to the door, knocking. "Everything all right in there?"
There's a long pause and then a grunt. "I do not know how this device works."
Did he not shower before? The controls are standard. Then I curse myself for being an assuming asshole. He was kept caged for the first weeks of his awakening, and when he was freed, his cell didn't have a shower hookup. I'm such an ass. "That can be today's lesson, then. I'll show you how to work everything in the lavatory. Let me in?"
He opens the door and I step inside—
And pause.
Why did it not occur to me that Victor would be naked when I came in? Because he's absolutely stark naked right now, and my gaze goes to the enormous cock hanging between his legs. Even flaccid, it's thicker than it has any right to be. The tip is bulbous and flushed, and the velvety undercoat that covers all of his skin seems to be nonexistent near his groin, which is the darker tan of his bared skin. He's completely swallowed by his foreskin, and underneath it, it looks like he's covered in tiny, textured bumps.
Oh.
As I stare, his cock stiffens, rising proudly in response to my gaze. The shaft thickens, and Victor's breath speeds up.
"Shower time," I call cheerfully, dragging my gaze away from the sight of his cock. It's not polite to stare, not polite to ask to take a closer look, certainly not polite to ask to watch as his foreskin retreats down his shaft, revealing the rest of him to my greedy, fascinated gaze. "You can get clean and I can stop sneezing."
"You were looking at my cock," Victor murmurs as I brush past him. Oh mercy, just the simple act of moving toward the shower is distracting, as I can feel the hot prod of him against my body when I move past. "I saw you looking," he prompts. "Admit it, Bee."
He's not going to let me get away with hiding under the guise of politeness, is he? I bite the inside of my cheek, wanting to shriek in frustration at how conflicted I feel. Part of me wants to turn around and grab that thick length and stop pussyfooting around the situation. The other part of me wants to race out the bathroom door and never return.