Vote | Comment ❤️

I eat slowly. Very, very slowly. Ironically, it feels like I'm the meal because The General is eating me up with his eyes.

The soup-like breakfast is hot. That's different, because Zolanos like their food cold. The General shouldn't be eating it at this temperature.

Wanting to change the topic from sex to food, I ask him, "Why is this hot?"

I twirl the spoon-like utensil around in the bowl to avoid looking at him. "Your kind doesn't enjoy warmed food."

"But you do."

My spool clatters against the clay of the bowl.

"What do you mean?"

"You do not enjoy cold food. I have seen you eating in the kitchens many times, so I asked the chef to warm this for you when I saw how weak you seemed."

I don't know what's more shocking — that he studied at me dance long enough to figure something was wrong with my body, or that he went out of his way to prepare this for me.

The General has serious shit to deal with all day, every day. He has to keep men in line, prepare them for war, and keep an eye out for any potential invasions. If an enemy slips into camp, the blood of Masters, Entertainers, and servants will redden his hands. He has no time to be feeding me.

Does he want to fuck me so badly that he's giving me gifts?

"You didn't... have to."

"Eat."

I'd be more than glad to stuff my mouth to avoid conversation, so I pucker my lips and blow onto the steamy spoon. I take a few spoonfuls, but it's still hot so I keep blowing.

"What is this?" he asks from behind me. He's still standing, but even if he was flat on his back, his size would intimidate me.

"What do you mean?" I ask as I blow the steamy spoon again.

"What are you doing with your lips?" He clears his throat, and I finally turn around to see what has him flustered.

I come face-to face with a war in his pants. He's erect and ready to screw the guts that are warm with his soup. Seeing me with lips puckered did this to him.

"I was only, er... cooling it down."

Awkward silence ensues. I don't blow the spoon anymore, choosing to burn my tongue over giving The General any more suggestive imagery.

The theme of sex hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the steam. It's unescapable.

I can make up an excuse to leave, but until I downright reject him, this man will keep coming back again and again until the musk of sex fully suffocates me.

I eat so slowly that I drag my meal on for half an hour. During the entire time, The General moons over me. He stands there, observing me and casting a shadow while I feel like the sun as I burn with nervousness and embarrassment.

The bowl is empty now. There are more plates I can try to eat, but my starved stomach doesn't hold much food. If I eat anymore, I'll get sick.

It's time to put an end to this; to finally reject this man who is clueless about how his strength hurt me, and how no amount of kind gestures like feeding me a taste of home will make me forget my trauma.

I inhale deeply. I enjoy it, because it may be my last breath if he's offended. "Thank you very much for the food. You didn't have to prepare this."

"Give me your eyes."

It's that command again. He wants my eyes, my pussy, my calm life.

I give them to him. They're afraid, uncertain.

Displeasure crosses The General's expression. "You are upset. Why? I have fed you and therefore resolved the issue of hunger."

Tactical and direct. That's how he thinks; who he is. He doesn't read what is written between the lines. I'm not very surprised by this. The Masters and Entertainers are extremely straight-forward and always communicate their expectations. The General expects the same from me, but Humans aren't like Zolanos. We love to complicate communication with hidden intentions.

"This is not about hunger. That's not why I'm uncomfortable." I stand up and wring my hands. Here goes nothing. I'm going to reject him.

"It's—"

"Joan."

My spine straightens. Is that Malik? What is he doing here, so close to The General's tent?

"Uh, yes?" I call out.

"You are needed. I must speak with you."

I asses The General. He's confused, and I can only assume about my relationship with Malik. Does he think I'm sleeping with Malik, too? Would he care? I don't think so. Masters share Entertainers all the time.

Then again, I doubt The General has gone to the extent of warming food to win over an Entertainer. He doesn't need to put in all this work to get laid.

"Can I be dismissed, General?"

"No," he replies.

Malik is still outside. I didn't hear him walk away. He's listening to my conversation, but he can't approach without being welcomed. He knows his place, and it's below The General.

Something else joins the musk of sex and absent steam in the air. Something thicker. I don't like it.

"Can I please get back to work?" I insist and wring my hands in front of me, a nervous tick I never shook off. New planet or not, some things never change.

He pins me with his gaze, his jaw set, before caving. "You may go."

"Thank you." I reach for the bowl I used to clean it in the kitchen, but he interrupts.

"Forget about the mess. Someone else will take care of it."

I nod and walk out of the tent, leaving him aroused and feeling whatever else a hardened man like him is capable of feeling.

All I know is me, and my sex is more than happy that it went undisturbed.

If you're reading this story other than on Wattpad Inkitt and Lutionary, then it has been plagiarised. Please email 1ancientt at gmail dot com to let me know.

Malik stands outside. He looks behind me and leads me away without touching me. I go from one complicated male to another because I have no clue if Malik noticed discomfort with The General and intervened to help me escape.

"It is time for you to refill the well. I will keep my end of the bargain and carry the buckets."

I nod. "Right. Of course." I had lost track of time while I was with The General, and although the food was great, I still have a job to get to.

The Entertainers continue their practice in the middle of camp as Malik and I make our trips. The Headmistress never calls me back, so I'm relieved that I don't have to prance around with more painful dancing.

Malik and I work silently. He doesn't ask what I was doing with The General or how I'm feeling because he either doesn't care or respects his leader too much to pry.

I don't mind the silence.

He works quickly and efficiently, leaving me with, "it is done. I will come to you tonight for my lesson."

"Alright. Thanks."

As he walks off, I wonder if Malik has been with any Entertainers recently. I've never seen him with one, but I know these guys love their sex. Will he want more than stitching lessons from these nightly meetups?