‘Tis Charity to Show
It was in the middle of the night, and the light of the two moons streamed their way through the window blinds in schemes of blazing white lines, giving the colorless spartan bedroom a film noir atmosphere. Rand lied in her inflated bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. She’d been restless all night, tossing and turning in bed, getting up to adjust and re-adjust the blinds, plump up or smooth down her pillow.
It was a profound sadness that was keeping her awake, and it didn’t matter how many times she had tried to alter her surroundings, she couldn’t shake the sadness that held her in it’s tight-fisted grip.
In the past, whenever she thought about her lover, Rand was always filled with warmth, joy, belonging. Now, at this moment, lying in the semi-darkness, they brought her pain. It was a pain that sat like a sullen weight on her chest, making her almost hyperventilate. Images of Khobran, his accusing, hurt face, of him storming out of her quarters on the Enterprise, and finally of his yearning face in the transporter room, closed in on her. If she only had a chance to talk to him, to explain herself, to assure him, to tell him he was being unfair, stubborn…to stand on her head and juggle for him! God! How many times was she going to go over this shit?! Over and over she went over and over and over and over…FUCK IT!
Rand threw the covers over her head. She was going to sleep if it killed her! God knows Khobran was probably sleeping like a baby back on the ship! Or was he.
Rand saw visions of Khobran’s taunt, emerald green skin, his muscular naked flanks appearing to her under the covers, the material of the blanket acting like some kind of movie screen for Khobran to present himself to her. Rand’s breathing slowed, and she was lulled into an odd state of both serenity and passion while her lover’s beauty engulfed her. The warmth that she had always associated with Khobran returned to her in full force, sweeping up from her toes to the top of her head like a silent rip tide. She could see her hands running over the firm, cut sinews of his powerful thighs, his hard buttocks, shoulders, neck, and jaw line.
His skin was so smooth, so perfect. Rand could see her fingers running up Khobran’s chin, feeling the warmth of his breath on them as she traced his full lips. She wanted him, craved him. Her body grew hot, so hot that she had to kick the covers away for relief, not that she got any. Not that she wanted any.
Rand’s body was piping hot, burning, as she squirmed against the mattress, giggling and humming. The wetness between her legs returned, teasing her. Her breasts became engorged, her nipples sensitive. She removed her nightshirt, amazed and amused at how her hard nipples resembled pink coins. She felt her clit harden and tingle as she parted her legs so wide she felt her vaginal lips part.
Rand squeezed her firm breasts together with her upper arms, feeling their round firmness pressing together in a unified, tantalizing sensation. She ran the middle finger of her left hand over her sensitive bud, rubbing it vigorously while she inserted the middle finger of her right hand into her tight slit, pulling and pushing it in and out in slick moistness. Rand drew in her breath and shut her eyes while her passage tightened around her finger and her clit become raw from her manipulations. She choked out a little sound and pumped her slender hips, causing her sweaty ass to raise off the mattress.
Rand became addicted to this delicious feeling and worked on herself furiously, gyrating her hips and grinding her tight little rump into the mattress now, her breath ragged as she whispered Khobran again and again in high-pitched uneven cries. Khobran! Khobran! Oh, my God! Ooooh! She arched her back as she came in a long shutter, her inhalation sucking into her body in jolts. After the tide subsided, Rand flopped onto the mattress in a thud, letting out a lengthy, rapid breath, like a deflating balloon.
Rand languished in her bed, her arms flung up over her head and her legs still wide open, like a randy rag doll. She ran her hands through her long loose hair and took a deep breath, regaling in the afterglow from her thrashing with her phantom lover. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she was finally drifting off to sleep.
Rand was breathing softly, and the room held the quiet that was unique to the middle of the night, and she was at peace.
“Khobran,” she whispered.
Rand stretched out her beautiful, slender upper body like a limber feline and yarned when a little pattering tingled on either side of her inner thighs, and traveled to the very bottom tip of her vagina, where the pattering mutated into an ice cold, wet, abrasive pressing that passed up the length of her vaginal lips, her folds, her tender clit.
Rand was wrenched out of her lulling and bolted upright, her spine in a knot, her eyes pressed downward and her mouth drawn back to expose gritted teeth. She scrambled in fear and panic towards the wall at the head of the bed, her arms and legs flying and jerking about in emotional chaos and dread. Grabbing the covers and yanking them up her naked body, Rand pressed herself against the wall and huddled, quivering. She could feel her body hairs raise and prickle on every inch of her skin. She turned her head in different directions, searching, looking for the thing that molested her. She was alone, the corners of her room bare and shadowy.
There was no one, nothing there.
No one but her.
It took Rand at least two hours to fall back to sleep.