Chapter 8

16 YAL

Lying on her side under the shade of a river birch, the dark round hill of Zuri’s belly moved slightly with each slow, deep breath as she slept. Passing high above us, a long white wisp of visibly curved cirrus cloud momentarily dimmed the sunline, stilling the whirring sounds of insects.

Spinward, the closest building of the polis remained a quarter of the way up the cylinder. Compared to the nomadic adventures of our childhoods, we’d been making very slow progress along the ringriver during my sister’s last trimester. I lived with a lingering dread that Zuri would be forced to deliver our children in river mud.

Generated by hot winds from the desert driving up into cooler air from the bow, dark thunderheads roiled over the rainforest biome lying above us. A series of intense blue-white flashes lit up the jungle, followed four seconds later by thunder like a roll of drums, echoing across the cylinder. It would be raining here in a few hours.

Rising to my feet, I paced a few meters before sitting back down to stare once more at the city, fighting my feelings of purposelessness, anxiety and arousal. I desired Zuri as much as ever, but she’d been too sore, exhausted, or preoccupied with her pregnancy to do anything for the past several days.

You’re going to wear a hole right through the asteroid. Mother, sitting on the other side of the peeling white trunk from Zuri, used evoc to avoid disturbing her.

I looked back. Mother had been communing with some aspect of Ship, but her alert stare told me I had her undivided attention now.

If she starts her contractions early, we can get there fast with factotums, she reassured in her calm voice. But walking is best for her right now.

I know. I’m just — I raised my hands wordlessly, feeling tense muscles jump in my shoulders.

Come here. Her warm, commanding voice filled my head. Lie down beside me.

The soft sweetgrass beneath me wasn’t much of a balm. Feeling her hand stroking against my forehead helped a little.

Warm fingers caressed my head, my shoulders. Taking a deep, three-part breath I stirred against the thick grass and closed my eyes, trying to relax, trying not to think. The leaves of the birch tree above stirred faintly in a soft summer breeze.

Fingertips traced over my chest, my ribs. Trickled down to my hips. And gently wrapped around my cock.

My eyes started open. Muscles tensing, I almost sat up with a gasp. Mother —

Shhh. Relax. Lie back. She began to stroke slowly, gently. I was already quivering.

This thing has been waving around half-erect all day. Does she arouse you that much?

Yes. I half-whimpered as the pleasure grew, biting my lip.

I’m glad. Just relax. Think about whatever you like.

My mind was a riot of thoughts and images. Being with mother. With Zuri. Being with both of them. Lying under the tree, I could smell their unique scents: the warm salt-and-musk of my sister sleeping quietly not half a meter from me, and the flowers and-herbs smell of my mother, the scent brushed onto her thighs from the field of wild lavender we had walked through earlier that day.

The tree stirred softly in the breeze. I could feel spots of heat wavering across my body where rays of sunline broke through between the leaves. There was another peal of thunder, low and far away. I nestled against my mother’s side, feeling warm and loved.

My body was already starting to quiver, muscles jumping. I brushed my lips against her side.

A little faster, please. Close.

Of course. Anything for you.

It took only five more strokes before I was orgasming hard, hips shifting against the grass. Groaning softly against her, I spurted hard over the tanned cinnamon of her toned thigh.

Mother’s fingers milked me gently, squeezing out every drop as I shuddered.

Better?

So much. I could feel myself finally relax, and behind that relaxation a great dark wing of tiredness swept forward, leaving me warm and sleepy. Yawning, I rolled sideways on the grass to curl against my mother.

Good. Sleep. You’re safe.

Thank you, Mom. Love you.

Love you, she messaged back, but I was already asleep.

“So, you were with Mom,” Zuri said the next day.

We were close enough to the polis now to see the taller buildings leaning toward us on the upcurve of the habitat. Mother walked a few meters ahead, a factotum on either side of her, while Zuri shuffled forwards slowly, hands spanned across her low round belly. Two of the featureless white automatons flanked us, close enough to be of immediate assistance in an emergency, but far enough to provide a sense of privacy.

Startled, I turned my head. “She told you?”

“Of course.” Zuri paused, breathing quietly through a few more steps. Then: “How was it?”

“Different. Nice.” Thinking for a moment, I lowered my voice to add: “But I don’t think she enjoyed it very much.”

“She hasn’t grown up with you the way I have.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

There was another long moment of silence as we walked. “I don’t want you to do that again,” she said determinedly.

I frowned. “What — be with mother?”

“Yes. I know you’ll have sex with her in a few years. And with our daughters, eventually.” Her fingers stroked her round belly. “And that will be fine. But for right now, no. You’ll use my mouth. Or my hands.”

“But you were —”

“I heard. And it was sweet of you. But I don’t want you to. Even if I’m tired or sleeping.”

“I don’t understand.”

Zuri shook her head. “You’re so dense sometimes.” She stopped and looked at me, her hands supporting her hips as Mother and the factotums continued ahead. “I’m yours.”