September 8, 2007

Ship of Dreams
By Vic Winter

Space was a lonely place for a cargo hauler. If you wanted to make more than just the bare necessities, you had to haul constantly and crew was a luxury that cost you profits. A luxury that Drake did without. It was the price you paid to be in the place you loved.

Space itself was beautiful. Cold and dark and quiet, and beautiful in a way that got into your soul, made it ache. Not many men would, but Drake would put up with a lot more than loneliness to stay flying in her. He could have made something for himself on a planet, he was personable, good-looking, some even said charming. But he was different , always had been, and then he’d been charmed himself by the vast reaches of darkness and stars, universes unfolding in places he’d never get to but could dream about.

And he’d found a way around the quiet and the solitude, though he still wasn’t convinced he hadn’t just gone into the space bends and permanently lost his mind, with the only reason he wasn’t in the booby hatch being because he wasn’t so far gone he’d ever told anyone.

It had all started when he’d bought the Palsazi ship. It was an upgrade from the battered, ancient hauler he had to fix every time he pulled into port. The one that forced him to do shorter and shorter runs, the one that kept him from staying out where he wanted to be for weeks and months on end. He just hadn’t known how much of an upgrade it was going to be.

Drake knew that the Palsazi ships were different than earth-built ones. Enhanced. Special. A little something extra. The guy he’d bought his from had winked, told him he was getting a sweet deal, that the Palsazi didn’t lose track of these babies often. Still, Drake hadn’t been prepared the first time it had happened, the first time the low, husky voice of his ship spoke in his mind.

He’d freaked out, just a little.

Okay, so he’d thought he was going crazy, it wouldn’t be the first time a solo pilot working the deep had lost it and started hearing voices. For awhile he convinced himself he was picking up strange traffic on his radio, that his beloved space was suddenly not so quiet as she’d been. Then it happened when he had the radio turned down, not to mention the things the voice knew, like it could read his mind, knew what he was thinking, what he needed.

The truth was the voice did know what he was thinking.

Since then he’d become used to it, come to appreciate that he had an almost symbiotic relationship with his ship. He didn’t need to fly the machine with his hands, Azkor, as his ship was called, knew his thoughts almost before he did and more than once it had saved his bacon as they’d zigged and zagged and narrowly escaped destruction from comets, asteroids and vessels with less than honourable intentions. Those things that made the terrible beauty of space dangerous.

He’d come to appreciate having something else to listen to aside from the enormous quiet of space. Even though he loved it, even though it was somehow inside him, he noticed the quiet after awhile, noticed how the relentless solitude could leave a man with nothing but his own company. Azkor changed that, kept him from going crazy like a lot of men who stayed out in space as long as him did.

Alone as he was, it was easy to ignore the fact that thinking your ship could not only read your mind but speak was maybe a good sign that you already were crazy. Besides, Azkor had told him often enough that he wasn’t crazy, that Azkor was real, there.

Drake nodded as he sat in the pilot’s seat, Azkor indulging him, letting him fly hands on, even though it wasn’t strictly necessary. On these long cargo runs -- it had been months since he’d seen another human being -- it was nice to have a companion, nice not to be entirely alone even if this companion lived solely in his mind.

I don’t live in your mind, that is merely how I communicate with you.

“I know, I know, but that makes me seem less crazy than saying my ship talks to me, you know?” Drake always answered Azkor out loud, the sound of his own voice a comfort in the dark chill of space, in that quiet that felt heavy. It wasn’t like there was ever anyone around to notice. Just him and his ship. It made it feel less like he was hearing voices that weren’t there, let him keep the illusion of his sanity, if that’s all it was.

It had become normal, just like floating in a small tin can through the vastness of space had become normal. Just like it had become necessary. He never told anyone about it because they might take it away from him and he needed it now even if it was just one more thing that made him different, that kept him apart from his own kind.

You’re lonely.

“I’m not lonely, I’ve got you, Azkor.”

Yes, but you think you lack a physical companion.

Drake chuckled and nodded. Oh yeah, he might have a friend to talk to, an animate ship to keep him from going stir-crazy, to keep the silence from getting too heavy -- and he wasn’t crazy because he wasn’t expecting the voice to suddenly manifest in front of him -- but a man had needs that he couldn’t expect Azkor to understand.

I wouldn’t be so sure about that.

He was about to laugh again when something slid along his skin, inside his spacesuit, like a finger dragging along his breastbone and down his belly. It was as warm as any finger that had ever touched him and left a fluttering in his stomach. He might have been imagining things, except it happened again.

Drake was very proud of himself for not freaking out.

“Azkor?” His voice didn’t crack. He hadn’t shouted. He could handle this. He wasn’t crazy. After all, his ship could talk.

Did you like that?

He nodded, knowing it was unnecessary, knowing that Azkor could tell from the way his body reacted, his heart pounding, his blood flowing distinctly southward. He was surprised, but that wasn’t all he was, that wasn’t what he was most, either. “I did.” God, help him, he did. He was getting turned on by his ship.

Another touch slid along his skin, his back this time, and just as he wished it would be just a bit more, it became harder, like a finger pushing into his skin, maybe bruising him a tiny bit, leaving proof that this wasn’t a dream. Drake whimpered, legs shifting, parting instinctively.

More? Do you want more?

Drake nodded again, eyes closing, shutting out the vast, cold emptiness of space outside his viewport. He felt as if the stars were watching and he didn’t want to see their unblinking eyes. He didn’t want to see that there was no one there.

You like it very much.

Azkor was right, Drake did like it, though like seemed a weak word for the way his body was reacting to the phantom touches.

Not phantom, they’re here. I am here.

It felt too good to argue semantics with Azkor, so Drake didn’t. He kept his eyes closed, gasping as he writhed, the seat belts and space suit starting to feel restrictive. They didn’t restrict Azkor though and the press of sensation over his skin continued as if there were a real live lover right there with him. One that knew all the things he liked, the things he enjoyed. One that cared for him.

His back, his ass, his thighs, his arms, his chest, all were stimulated with touches both hard and soft; glides of fingers, scratches of nails. His nipples hardened under what felt like the lick of a tongue and the suction of a warm mouth.

You taste interesting.

“You can taste me?” He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t expected Azkor to be getting anything out of this.

I can. And I can feel you – you are so warm. I told you it wasn’t all in your mind.

“Does it feel good for you, too? Touching me?” He wasn’t sure what answer he wanted to hear.

Yes. It does.

Oh. Drake swallowed, moaned. Yes worked. It worked really well. “I wish I could touch you back.”

Almost immediately something warm seemed to slide against his hands, to drag along his fingertips. What Azkor chose to share was soft, cooler than his own skin, sort of rubber and velvet melded together. Drake moaned again as a weight seemed to press against him, something long and hard against his own erection.

When something warm, not quite right for a tongue, pressed into his mouth his eyes flew open, but all he saw was the dull grey of the ship, the buttons and indicators, the joystick, the viewport with its eternal expanse of dark space, it’s millions of stars. And yet, he could still feel the hardness against his own, the sure touches along his skin.

Drake closed his eyes again, preferring the illusion in his mind to the cold, hard reality of there being no one with him.

I am not no one. You are not crazy. I exist.

Drake had no answer for that, his eyes and his mind telling him two different things, so he just asked for “more, please more”.

And more he was given. The suction was back around his nipples, one and then the other, then both at the same time, making his eyes fly open again. Amusement rippled through his mind, another point of suction beginning, something that felt an awful lot like a tight mouth wrapping around his cock. This was no human with him, but he could feel how Azkor was enjoying himself, enjoying surprising Drake, but also enjoying making him feel good.

Drake began to move, whimpering as he began to kiss Azkor back, sucking on the... tongue in his mouth. The kiss deepened as he grew confident in it, began to believe that it really did exist, that Azkor was kissing him.

He pushed against the seat belts, pushed with his hips, trying to push his cock into the sucking mouth. He was thwarted in his attempt by the restraints, but the suction slid down and back up along his cock, finding a rhythm that was suspiciously similar to the one he used when he jacked off. A rhythm that was just right.

“Fuck, yes!” He curled his hands to avoid reaching for a body that wasn’t there, fingernails digging into his own skin as the sensations grew stronger.

Don’t hold back.

So he reached out and, just like the mouth that slid against his own, there was flesh beneath his fingers now, warmer and softer than the earlier touches had revealed, muscles  rippling as he slid his hands over them. He even found what felt like a nipple, small and hard, the sensation of Azkor’s pleasure fed back to him as more suction finding the spot in the small of his back that made him shiver and shudder.

I know what you really want, I can feel it.

A soft touch slid over his ass, and his asscheeks were grabbed, squeezed firmly and then spread. A finger, slender and as real as the rest of it pushed into his hole, spreading him open. He froze. Whimpered. And then pushed back against his chair, trying to encourage Azkor to go deeper, to stretch him wider. It had been so long since anyone had done this for him and even longer since it had been someone who cared. No one cared like Azkor did. No one.

And as always, Azkor seemed to pull what Drake wanted right out of his mind, though this had nothing to do with piloting through space. This had to do with his body and getting fucked and the touch inside him grew thicker, wider, slowly stretching him. The sensation of in and out grew, leaving him gasping, trembling. Leaving him wanting still more.

The touch grew even thicker, until it felt like a good-sized cock and suddenly he was being fucked, Azkor thrusting into him with long, hard strokes that echoed all the way up Drake’s spine. The body against him undulated with him, sliding over him, beneath his hands and against his body. The tongue in his mouth plundered now, echoing the cock inside his body and his own cock was pushed deep into sucking wet heat each time Azkor thrust into him.

The cockpit was filled with sounds, each one coming from his own mouth, though many were echoed in his mind in Azkor’s low tone.

“Does my pleasure please you?” Drake asked.

Yes. The affirmative seemed to hiss, seemed to be filled with recognizable passion.

“Good.” It was good. It was good that he wasn’t alone, good that the pleasure that filled him was shared. It was good that Azkor seemed to know exactly what he needed, the thrusts into him growing stronger, going deeper. So fucking deep, he couldn’t remember anyone ever being so deep inside and it was good. He couldn’t ever remember fucking and being fucked at the same time, but that’s what was happening now, every sensation he could dream of coming to life at the same time.

The pressure inside him and around him, the touches that multiplied with every breath, every gasp, they sent him soaring, flying through space until he was crying out, spunk spilling from him, filling his suit with wet heat. The pleasure exploded in his mind, left him weak and gasping, shivering.

The touches faded slowly, growing softly, smaller, until they were gone.

Drake panted, a ripple going through him now and then, small shivers continuing. He opened his eyes, the expanse of space in front of him greeting him again, making him feel small and insignificant. A hundred million stars in the deep and he was one small man in one small ship, slowly going crazy. Or maybe not so slowly.

“Azkor?”

I am here, Drake.

He nodded, feeling it now, the way his ship seemed to breathe, the way it was warm, the way Azkor was there. Drake would never tell anyone his ship spoke to him. He would never let anyone know the strange companionship he had found out in this place where there were more stars than people. No one would ever know how deeply he had fallen into... this. But that was all right.

He was not alone.

End.

***

Today's Scavenger Hunt Clue- go hunting in the books of Stevie's woods.