Valves & Vixens, Volume 2 Read online

  We both knew that the Commander’s life would depend on my skill and accuracy. In the emptiness of space, the slightest crack could explode the air out and broil the man inside.

  I pushed the darkened goggles down to protect my eyes and lifted the soldering iron from its hook. The slender strips of gleaming chandarite pinned to their wooden rack floated, weighing less than air. “Ready, sir?”

  Axton lifted his chin. “Ready.”

  He was silent and still as I applied flux and soldered the first interconnecting lines of chandarite. Hunched down on the stone floor, I beaded the metal into the joints, the molten silver flowing and filling the thin seams.

  Flux broiled away under the heat of the iron and already the chandarite began to weave its strange magic. The boot pulled against the clamps, fighting to lift from the stone floor. Chandarite would bring the metal suit alive, making it flexible and protecting the officer within. Keeping him alive - but only for a fortnight. The Commander himself had determined that fact on his very first mission.

  Mr Isham had discovered the seams of chandarite, slivers of it fused into Scottish granite. How he connected the metal to the moon was a secret known only to a few living souls. I was not one of them. But men like the Commander now mined the moon in shifts, bringing back sheets of the metal for Mr Isham to store deep beneath our feet.

  With a huff of breath I sat back and re-hooked the iron to its stand. The first working was done, the intricate pattern of silver binding across the boot. A heartbeat later and the shining metal dulled.

  My jaw ached from clenching. I would not fail Axton.

  “How long have you worked here, Marlow?”

  I looked up and dug my fingers into the crick in my neck. “Twelve years this summer.” Groaning, I pushed myself to my feet. “I remember the day Mr Isham first demonstrated chandarite. I didn’t think the Prime Minister’s jaw could drop any lower.” My fingers curled into my palms and I sucked in a hard breath. It wasn’t my place to laugh at my betters with the Commander. I wasn’t his fellow officer. I was a lowly mechanic. A clank monkey.

  Unhooking the other boot, I eased it into its clamp and Axton pushed in his silk-clad foot.

  “How low?”

  I frowned up at him. “Sir?”

  “Did his jaw drop?” His smile was sharp and too-attractive. “Salisbury has a vast beard. It had to be extraordinarily low to fight that mass.”

  I couldn’t help the grin that pulled at me. “We feared it would break away from his head.”

  Axton wiped a hand over his mouth, his dark eyes gleaming. “That I wish I’d seen.”

  An easy silence fell again and I finished the boot, moving on to the calves, kneecaps and thighs, encasing Axton’s legs wholly in metal and soldering the seams in a lacing pattern. The next piece I’d hardly given a thought for on any other officer, but this was Axton.

  I knelt before him, my mouth almost level with his dick. The scent of skin-warmed silk wrapped around me and I could imagine the taste of him...

  “Marlow...”

  My eyes flickered shut as his deep voice held me. For a moment, my wild imagination galloped.

  His fingers pushed through the damp strands of my hair to rest his palm against my skull and urged me closer. Yet his fingers eased free and I let my breath heat the silk. His dick hardened, straining against the material and eager for my mouth.

  My fantasy deepened with the imagining of the impossible parting of the heavily padded silk, exposing him to the hot air of the fitting room. I licked my dried lips, before my tongue teased and tasted his bared skin. His scent swept deep into my lungs, heat and want forcing me to grip his iron-clad thighs to steady myself. But more. I needed more, of his taste, of the shallow yet increasing thrusts into my mouth. To feel him shudder and quake, to take all of him as his fingers fisted tight in my hair and I drove him to desperate pleasure-

  “Marlow.”

  Startled, my heart thudding and desire fierce and hot in my flesh, I pulled back and turned away to unhook the iron. My fantasy pushed too far. With hands made steady by sheer force of will, I picked up the piece that would cover his backside. My goggles with their darkened glass protected me. He wouldn’t see my need. Still, I couldn’t look up and witness the derision - or worse - disgust in his eyes. I tacked the piece to the supporting rims, trying not to think that only thin sheets of metal and silk came between me and his backside... I held down a groan. “Hold completely still, sir.”

  Axton didn’t reply, but the tension in his body pushed out. Shit. He knew.

  My heart found an uneven rhythm and lightened my head. I breathed, slow and sure, fighting the speckles of blackness running over my eyes. If he told Mr Isham, I’d be out, thrown out onto the street with no character and no chance of further work.

  I shoved down my panic. I still had a job to do. The commander was running to a schedule I had to meet. Focusing, I worked, running liquid beads of the rare metal and not thinking, not thinking at all...even as I pressed the front plate to him, encasing the long length of his dick behind metal.

  He groaned, the sound sinking through me, but I didn’t look up. Couldn’t, even as I cupped him over the metal to tack the edges. Sweat slicked my neck, wet my upper lip and my dick ached, the twist in my gut so sharp as to be a pain. I wanted to look up, desperate to see if anything of the desire I felt lived in him. But my livelihood depended on him never knowing.

  I soldered, the hard muscles of his stomach and chest so tight he couldn’t be breathing. It was a natural reaction to a dangerous nearness of molten metal and a burning iron. I wanted to share that joke - I had in the past with other officers - but the air was strained, all ease gone now. And I dreaded the moment I would have to stand and face him to fix the final part of his suit into place.

  I moved onto his chest and arms, managing to fix the collar and shoulder yoke without once looking into his eyes. The tension twisted harder than a wrench. I cursed myself as I fitted the subtle finger joints. My desire - sharp and yet utterly pointless - had spoiled the private time Mr Isham had given me. I’d admired the Commander from a distance, found a sense of humour in him...and then ruined everything.

  “I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

  It took me a moment to realise I hadn’t spoken, that it was Axton’s smooth voice. It forced me to look at him. “Sir?”

  He wet his lips and the shine was too tempting. I re-hooked the iron and stretched my cramping fingers, anything to distract me from kissing the man. He was bound in steel and copper, he couldn’t resist...

  Axton’s dark gaze narrowed, looking beyond me to the curved wall of the alcove obscuring the engine and the apprentice who stoked its firebox. I followed his gaze out of curiosity. There was no movement. Keeping the heat even was a consuming task for a young boy.

  “During the cutting of my suits, you worked behind there.”

  I could blame the redness of my face on the heat of the room or the iron, not to the fact that he’d noticed me peeking at him like a shy girl at her sweetheart. “I did.” I placed my gloved fingers on the glass-fronted helmet from the bench, wanting to put an end to our talk. With it fitted and finished, Commander Axton would be ready for duty. And I could escape.

  He reached out to stay my hand, his metal fingers closing around my wrist. The touch was light and cool, the chandarite thrumming through the thickness of my shirt to my skin. “Sir?”

  “It’s no work for a journeyman.”

  I would admit my admiration for him as an officer and explorer. That would cover the strangeness and we could move on. “You’re a great man, Commander. The first man to have landed on the moon.” I pushed a slipshod smile across my mouth. “You caught me being curious.”

  He lifted an eyebrow and that twist of need was back in my gut. “Curious?” His voice wove around the question with the hint o
f something more, something I couldn’t quite believe. “Where you satisfied with what you saw?”

  I hoped to hell I didn’t look like I’d been slapped, but that feeling shocked over me. He couldn’t be hinting at a mutual need. He was Julius Axton. He’d sat down to tea with Queen Victoria. Was a friend of the Prince of Wales - they went on shooting parties together-

  “Well?”

  There was an edge of amusement to him now, a gleam in his eye that I found bewitching. I drew in a slow breath, wanting the rapid thud of my heart to slow. “I caught only peeks.”

  His smile then was positively wicked. “Anticipation is good for the soul.”

  He still had his hand on my arm and his metal-encased thumb stroked the edge of my wrist, slipping under the looseness of the cuff. Light and cool, metal, but not. It sparked a flare of electricity along my veins. My breath caught and I was hard. Painfully hard. And he knew it.

  It was there in the flush of his cheeks, the brightness in his eyes and the way his firm mouth parted. My pulse drummed under his touch. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I...”

  With a delicacy of touch I often forgot the metal suit could achieve, Axton pulled free my goggles and rested them against my damp hair. I blinked against the sudden flare of white light. The clack and thump of the engine faded back, overtaken by the loud thud of my heart. Axton’s attention was fixed on me. “When was the Lunar Expedition set up?”

  That wasn’t a question I was expecting. Not at all. “Three years this autumn coming.”

  “And in all that time, I have stood here whilst Isham cut metal around me and you, you lurked behind that wall.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Did you spy on every clank?”

  “No, sir!” I pressed my gloved hand to my mouth, the scent of leather and the lingering metal stink of chandarite pulled in on a tight breath. My voice dropped, thankful it was still covered by the loud thumps of the machine and the shovelling of the apprentice. “I volunteered to work the engine for you alone.”

  His gaze moved over my mouth and my lips burned under this attention. Anticipation was terrifying for the soul. The Commander was a man of the world - worlds - I didn’t doubt he had experience in every carnal pleasure. Where as I, I only had a few brief fumblings, and even though I lived and worked beside the docks, I feared my true desires would land me with a long sentence of hard labour.

  “As you watched me, I watched you.”

  My heart turned over. I was still asleep three floors up from this room. This was all an impossible dream. “You did?” The question came out on a squeak of air and Axton’s smile was sharp and hot.

  “I waited.” He glanced down to the shining suit he wore. “I’m a patient man.”

  He’d been waiting for me to develop finishing skills? It seemed incredible. It was incredible. Axton had realised this time could be our only private moment too. Yet...I was a journeyman metalsmith. The bastard son of a barrister whose only role in my life had been to secure me my apprenticeship. He was a son of baronet and would inherit his father’s title one day. “But...why?”

  “I’ve seen the Earth. A shining blue marble on a black carpet of velvet and diamonds.” His eyes became distant and I envied him his memory. “Whole. Beautiful. And I thought of the petty rules that divide us all. The divisions that stop us from having what we want. Need.”

  “But...” I wanted to ask more, yet could I chance it with the apprentice working only a few feet away? It wasn’t simply my job at the workshop, it was the Commander’s reputation. Still, the need to know why he would take this risk for me burned through my thoughts.

  His cool metal hand cupped my cheek and I froze. I forgot to breathe.

  “You’re a good man, Marlow.” His thumb drew a line under the edge of my lip, a charge of static forcing a gasp. “And I wanted you to know that I admire you. Your work.” The wicked gleam in his eyes declaimed that my work was the last thing on his mind, and I swayed closer into him. His firm and perfect lips were a sharp temptation. “Your work is quite...exceptional.”

  And then he kissed me.

  Something slow and sure, a press of his lips to mine, surprisingly soft, his clean-shaven skin smooth against my own. The wet heat of his tongue licked along the seam of my mouth. Teasing. Tasting... We had only these stolen moments, a matter of pained and fast heartbeats...and I opened my mouth to him.

  His groan and mine melted together. He tasted sweet and rich, the clever play of his tongue curling and chasing, fuelling my blood, searing want into my belly and making my dick so hard I ached to grind myself against him.

  Axton’s hand left my cheek and slid slow and sure down over my shoulder, the flicker of static pricking through the thick cloth of my sleeve to tease the bare skin beneath. I hissed against his mouth, unable to hold back, and tasted his grin.

  “A strange affect of an equally strange metal,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine. “The semblance of touch. As if my bare hand rested against your equally bare skin.”

  His words in that deep and seductive voice wove around me, as easily as his fingertips drew lines over the muscles of my arm. The shadow of his fingers pressed into my flesh in a tingling rush and I fought to deny the weakness in my legs. I had to hold some control over my need to find his mouth again and drag his delicious hand down to where I ached for him.

  I licked dry lips, tasting him. “It’s an effect I’m sure Mr Isham would want you to explore, sir.”

  Axton’s teeth grazed my lip, following with a sharp nip that chased heat straight to my aching dick. His hand pressed to my chest, the imprint of his palm sharp into my skin. “Isham has impressed upon every man bound to the expedition to examine, thoroughly, the nature of chandarite.” His hand skirted lower, sliding over the line of my hip. “It’s our solemn duty.” And his sure touch skimmed a slow, slow caress over my hard dick.

  “Duty.” The word escaped on a burst of air. My heart hammered, loud enough, I was certain, to be heard over the clack and thump of the engine behind the screen. It was hardly possible. That Commander Julius Axton would share my fantasy. Was making it real before me, and forcing every breath I took into a pained and blissful labour.

  His fingers firmed, finding the shape of me and I all but groaned. “Sir...” The word was ripped from me. “Please.”

  I gripped the solid metal of his arm before my knees buckled and gave out. His smile was dark. Hot. And my need to kiss him almost swallowed me whole.

  “Would you deny your duty, Marlow?”

  I forgot to breathe under the slow, purposeful slide of his hand. The caress of the almost spelled alien metal was unnatural...and delicious. “And this...” I swallowed, trying to hold his dark gaze, even as my eyelids fought to drop in sweet bliss. “This occupies your time in your fortnight away?”

  His firm lips tilted in the brief show of a smirk. “Nights are long and dark, Marlow. Who is to say how my fellow officers pass the time?”

  His thumb teased over the head of my dick as surely as if his bare flesh touched mine and I groaned. “And you?” I had to know if everything was a play, something to while away his time. An itch and nothing more. “Do you...?”

  His stroke quickened, his head dipped and his breath burned against my lips. “I am not a...fickle man.” The words were almost a growl and the heavy ache in my balls deepened. “I bide my time. And I am well aware of what I want. What is due. What is mine.”

  My hips jerked, demanding more of this touch, needing it after the raw possession in his voice. “I am...” My lips brushed his, hot and wanted, “I am yours.”

  Axton took my mouth, a fierce claiming that swept molten need through me. His metal-clad fingers fisted my hair, even as he worked my dick, his hand one with the increasing rhythm of my hips. Faster, more sure. Heat broiled up my spine and I lost every thought. There was only his mouth and fingers dri
ving my flesh, searing pleasure in way I could hardly have dreamt.

  He swallowed my half mewled pleas and I couldn’t stop my thrusts against the hard thigh being shoved between mine. The tightness of my body caught me. Held me. Twisted hard. I groaned, aching for him to push me, to spill bliss into my flesh.

  “Mine...”

  The word, growled over my lips, flashed molten heat under my skin. There. There. White-hot joy surged over me, through me, breaking my mouth from his as I arched against him. I shook and only Axton’s firm grip held me up. My heart still pounding, I stared at him through blurred eyes, unable to fight the disbelieving grin that warmed my mouth. “Yours,” I murmured. “Absolutely. Completely.”

  The clatter of a dropped shovel broke us apart. Half stumbling, I whipped around to the metal wall, but there was no slack-jawed and shocked apprentice staring at us. I staggered and Axton’s strong hand caught me.

  He was breathing hard, the shine of his lips wet in the glow of the white light. I tugged my glove free, intent to wipe away the dampness, but he stopped me. He licked his lips and I held down a moan.

  “The suit preserves me. It’ll preserve this.”

  My heart squeezed and I fought the need to kiss him again. But we couldn’t. The danger of being caught was too great. I glanced down, wondering if his suit preserved more than the wetness of a fierce kiss.

  “I’ll be back in a fortnight.” Axton lifted an eyebrow, promise there in his eyes and the firm pleasure of his mouth. There would be so much more than a tantalising and hurried working of his fingers. So much more. “I have a new contraption - one of Isham’s playthings, an autocar - I believe you’re familiar with them.”

  I nodded, uncertain of his direction. My mind had hardly caught up with the huge shift in my world. Of being his.

  “The key to my town-house is in my coat pocket.” His smile was dark, his voice smooth and deep and pricking my skin. “I want it running hot and waiting for me upon my return. Is that understood, Marlow?”