"You make a good backrest," she murmurs, closing her eyes. "Thanks for helping me with the bath."
"It's my duty to take care of you." The tray of soaps rises out of the side of the tub the moment the water turns off, and I select a floral, sweet-scented one that I think she'll like. I pick the softest sponge and lather it up, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Ruth needs cleaning, I tell myself firmly as I run the sponge down one pale golden arm. It is not the time to think about how soft and slippery she feels against my chest. It is not the time to think about how her bottom is nestled against my cock. It is certainly not the time to think about her naked breasts and how they're beaded with water.
I tell myself all of this and my cock still hardens like a rock, pressing against her.
Ruth says nothing, though. She just reclines against me, a slight smile on her face as I move the sponge over her shoulders and arms, washing her. She is so precious to me, this female. To everyone else in the universe, she is a spitting, angry hellion. But here she is, soft in my arms, letting me touch her and take care of her. It fills me with so much pride and joy, and I want to do more for her. I press my mouth against her temple, even as I slide the sponge over her abdomen. I'm deliberately avoiding her breasts at the moment, because I fear if I touch them, I'll come and we'll have to change out the water. So I just run the sponge over her skin underneath the surface and hold her close. "Can I ask you something?"
Her smile widens even as her eyes remain closed. She arches up against me, pushing her breasts into the air. "Yes, I'm a very dirty girl."
Kef me. I groan, pressing my forehead to her hair. Unable to resist any longer, I run the sponge over one round breast, and love the sound she makes in response. Her nipple tightens, and I deliberately tease it, rubbing small circles around it. "That wasn't what I was going to ask, but it is good to know."
Ruth shifts against me, sliding one wet arm back. She runs her hand over the base of my skull, scratching at my shorn hair. "What, then?"
I drop the sponge into the water and cup one of her breasts, giving up all pretense of washing them. I run my thumb over the hard bud of her nipple, loving that she wriggles against me and makes little gasping noises of pleasure. "If you could go anywhere in the universe," I murmur, my lips rubbing against the small shell of her ear. "Where would you go?"
"Back to the Buoyant Star," she says promptly, without hesitation.
I fight back a flare of annoyance. Sometimes Ruth's single-mindedness is a bit too much, even for me. "Not there. Somewhere else."
Her hand covers mine over her breast, making me pause. She tilts her head, gazing up at me. "Why are you asking?"
I shrug. "We can't go to the Star because we're being chased, and the last thing I want to do is let a bunch of outlaws and bounty hunters know of a hundred helpless humans. So we have to wait for them to get off our tail. I figured maybe I'd ask what you wanted to see. What you want to experience." I brush my lips over her ear, loving the shiver she makes. "I want to show you the universe. Not just Prefalon."
She thinks for a moment, then slides my hand lower, from her breast to her belly. "If I suggested we go take a vacation on a beach somewhere, I'd feel too guilty to enjoy myself. My friends are stuck, drifting, on the Star. They're eating noodles and staring at the same white, boring walls we've stared at for years. It doesn't seem right to go somewhere nice and just…relax."
So she wants a beach. She wants to relax. I immediately think of Jirri IV, where the noodles famously come from. It's a resort spot. Expensive, true, but the waters are a brilliant blue, the sands soft and pink, and the weather is mild. I imagine Ruth relaxing on the shore, a look of bliss on her face as she drinks in the sunlight, and I want to give her that. "You're not staying away from your friends deliberately," I remind her. "You're staying away for their own good. Why feel guilt? Would they want you to be miserable? Or would they want you to enjoy yourself?"
Ruth hesitates. "They'd want me to enjoy myself. But it just feels wrong."
I run my fingers over her soft, flat belly, drawing circles on her skin. "It won't be all fun," I remind her. "We're still being hunted. But why not be hunted someplace pleasant instead of somewhere miserable?"