Brandy

“Yes, you can kiss me. But let’s make them small kisses so you don’t struggle breathing.” Her fingers dance along my ear, then move up to my broken horns, two ugly stumps capped off with metal. “You can strip me naked. You can lick me all over. Think of me as a blank canvas and you’re the artist.” That’s far more poetic than how I feel. “More like I’m just the lucky bit of scrap that you’ve decided to craft into something new.” She grabs me by the ears, her expression fierce as she forces me to look her in the eye. “You’re not scrap. You’re just as worthwhile as anyone I’ve ever met. Better, even. You saw me hurting and did something about it instead of walking away like so many others. That shows your true character. I probably cost all of your credits, was a bother and an annoyance because I remember crying like a madwoman, and then you even found me a new place to live where I’d be safe. You didn’t just sell me to another person and hope for the best. You made sure that I was taken care of, even if it was a problem. You’re amazing. Your heart is amazing. I don’t care that you don’t have a good family name or that your father’s father was a splice. I don’t care that you have a criminal record. All the things that you think make you unworthy don’t bother me, because I know how you really are when the chips are down.” “What are chips⁠—” “Hush,” Melody says, exasperated. “I’m trying to build you up here.”
― Ruby Dixon, When She's Handy: A Risdaverse Short Story

“Crazy, insane, gorgeous human. I can’t believe Melody is here. It’s like something out of a dream. She looks amazing, too. The last time I saw her, she was skin and bones, all ribs and bruises. Now she’s filled out and she looks healthy and lovely…all the more reason she doesn’t need to get tangled up with me. I’m not a good male. She deserves better. I stalk away from the edge of the platform, my thoughts whirling, all of them focused around curling hair and a cheery smile. The way she lifted my hand to her mouth and kissed my knuckles as if she were paying homage to me… “Hey, Brux!” Jonnas jogs up to my side as I storm back to the crane I was working on. “Go away.” “You know that female?” He lifts his chin at me, a smirk on his face. “You buy a couple nights with her in some cantina or something? You think she’s still taking clients⁠—” I turn on him so quickly that he stumbles backward. “You do not speak to her,” I snarl. “You do not make eye contact. You do not even look in her direction.” He puts his hands up. “Okay, so she’s yours. I got it.” She’s not mine. She deserves better. She deserves a life without someone like me bothering her, weighing her down… “But we all heard her ask you for dinner. Why’d you turn her down if she’s your female?” “Go back to work,” I tell him, voice flat. And I go back to work myself, trying to concentrate on the dock plans and knowing that I’m going to fail miserably at everything today. I’m going to think about Melody, and that night five years ago. I’m going to think about how sweet her mouth was against mine, and how good her body felt, how soft and fragile she was… And what a mistake it was for us to end up in bed together. So yeah, I turned her down today. Melody deserves better than an ugly alien with no good family name, no credits to speak of, and a criminal history. She deserves better than someone who’s an outcast amongst his own, whose blood isn’t pure mesakkah but might have a bit of moden in it. She deserves better than a broken-horned laborer.”
― Ruby Dixon, When She's Handy: A Risdaverse Short Story

“You haven’t thought about me in the last five years? You haven’t wanted to see me again?” “No,” I blurt out immediately, because it’s the truth. Most of it, anyhow. I’ve tried not to think about her because I’m still ashamed I took advantage of her when she was weak. I haven’t allowed myself to think about her, because it felt wrong. The brightness in her eyes fades and a look of hurt comes over her face. She pulls her hand from my arm. “Oh. Well…I thought about you. Constantly.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay. I should have guessed we wouldn’t be on the same page⁠—” “No,” I continue, the words rushing out of me. “I’m sorry for what happened five years ago. I touched you when I shouldn’t have.” Her brows furrow and she gives me an odd look. “What are you talking about?” I can feel the intense gaze of the custodian down the street. No doubt he’s watching me closely to ensure that I’m not bothering the locals. “You and I,” I murmur. “You and I shouldn’t have happened.” To my surprise, Melody rolls her eyes. She shakes her head slowly and takes my hand in hers, lifting my big fist toward her face. “Listen carefully, Brux. I was so happy in that moment that I was thrilled to have sex with you. I felt seen. I felt listened to. I felt understood. Someone had seen my misery and fixed it. I wanted to have sex with you. You didn’t force me to do anything.” “Pity sex—” I begin, frowning. “Not pity sex,” she corrects. “And for the record, I’ve had sex with men for less than what I felt for you, which was bone-deep gratitude. Happiness and gratitude are perfectly good reasons to have voluntary sex. And let me say again. It was very, very voluntary.” And she presses a kiss to my knuckles, then smiles up at me. “And if—when—we have sex again, it will be voluntary then, too.” Heat creeps up my neck, and my tail won’t stop flicking about. “You didn’t come,” I point out, keeping my voice low. “Back then.” “I know.” She shrugs. “I was just happy to touch and be touched. For me it wasn’t about an orgasm. But if it’ll make you feel better, I promise that I won’t rest until you make me come this time.”  And Melody flutters her lashes at me. “So…you want sex again? From me?” Maybe this is a fetish. If so, that explains a lot. “At some point, yeah.” She shrugs and then gives my knuckles another kiss, glancing up at me as she does. “But I’d like to get to know you outside of bed, too. I want us to be friends. More than friends. Is it so weird that I’m attracted to you?” “Yes,” I admit bluntly.”
― Ruby Dixon, When She's Handy: A Risdaverse Short Story

“My thoughts are on Brux. The alien I never thought I’d see again. My hero. My savior. The alien who won me my freedom. Five years ago, I worked for an old mesakkah—one of the blue aliens with horns. He was the meanest son of a bitch, and spent all his time pinching and hitting me if I didn’t work fast enough. That old alien was a scrapper, too, and he taught me a lot. His hands didn’t work as well as they did when he was younger, so he used me to do the delicate repair work on things. And he starved me and kicked me and treated me like the worst junkyard dog. I’m told that humans are expensive, so I’m not sure why he wanted one if he was just going to beat the crap out of me and abuse me, but maybe he wanted to make sure that whatever slave he got he could beat up on without fear of reprisal. That was my life, dodging slaps and trying frantically to work fast enough to avoid the next hit. Trying to “behave” so I’d get fed that day. Brux showed up at the scrapper’s junk hole one day. I’m not even sure what he was looking for. But he watched the old guy beat up on me while I tried to work and then turned around and left. Which made my owner hit me even harder. Neither of us had counted on Brux returning, though. He did. Threw a bag of credits onto the counter and demanded my price. My owner didn’t even haggle. Just named some astronomically high price and Brux shoved the bag of credits across the counter and unlocked my collar. He led me to a hotel that night and ordered food. I scarfed everything down and showered, and cried I was so happy. The moment I got out of the shower and in Brux’s oversized tunic, I sat next to my new owner and let him know just how happy I was. I seduced him. Brux declined my advances, like any decent guy would. But I had a full belly and I was away from that old monster, and at this point, anything would be better. I put my mouth all over him, ignoring his attempts to brush me aside, and sat myself down onto his lap—and his cock. For all that he’s an enormous alien with tree trunks for arms and legs, his cock was the perfect size. Better than that, he was exceedingly gentle with me and made sure that I wasn’t hurting or scared. He came, I didn’t, but it didn’t matter to me. It was about connection, and gratitude, and just celebrating that my circumstances had changed. But I think it made Brux feel weird about things. Because in the morning, he took me directly to the doorstep of Lord va’Rin and left me there.”
― Ruby Dixon, When She's Handy: A Risdaverse Short Story