His response came from his whole body, his skin raising in tiny bumps, straining for contact. His hands slid down around her throat—but there was nothing there except corded muscle and stiff tendons. He knew there was no receiving tube under her tongue, either. He would only hurt her terribly if he let his hungry lips join hers, for he could not stop the reflexes now.
//Jindigar—// prompted Darllanyu, ready to take him and extract all that his glands could produce.
He had promised her. He had lit the marriage flame for her. He would not—did not want to—forsake Darllanyu. But he could not tear his gaze from Krinata. The Oliat would not let him tear his gaze from Krinata. //Dar... // It came out as half groan, half plea.
Darllanyu's seven-fingered hands reached for his neck from behind. The filaments of her skin inserted themselves among the filaments of his skin, and she held the touch at that distance, seductively stimulating, infinitely promising.v,
The special warmth spread in waves from every gland she stroked, and through the linkages he felt Darllanyu's glands responding and knew the incomparable sensation of mutual gratification. He wanted to turn and stroke her throat, lock his mouth over hers and let it finally happen, but he could not break away from Krinata. It was as if the very linkages had tuned to the fullsong, rich with overtones of the worldcircle and Dushaun, hot, urgent, and demanding that they satisfy each other.
Krinata was perfectly still with his hands around her neck, his fingers brushing her rubbery skin. Her eyes were half lidded, her lips parted in the barest hint of a Dushau woman's invitation. The round humps of her mammary glands strained her shirt as she gasped with each of his movements. And with each aching wave through her body, oddly enough, her linkages came closer into balance, the strain on the dual-Oliat lessened. And faintly—oh, so faintly—under the fullsong came the shaleiliu hum, not the deep, grinding bass the four-way meta-Oliat had produced but the higher octave of Jindigar's own Oliat.
That unheard sound tingled through their flesh. Krinata shivered, her skin prickling into little bumps. He knew that in a human it didn't signify the ultimate sexual arousal, but when Jindigar's fingers hesitated, she moaned in protest. Never had any woman meant more to him. Never had any woman's plea-' sure been more important to him.
So he didn't flinch when Krinata's left hand rose to the base of his neck, seeking the sensitive spot Takora would know very well. And it was Takora's touch. Relief spread through him, and behind it came a wondrous adoration.
At last he was flung into the upward spiral of final arousal, hardly noticing Dar's fingers freezing at Krinata's boldness. He surrendered to Krinata, barely aware when her tentative touch shifted to a firm, mature search for her own gratification from his responses. He didn't care—he didn't care about anything but that marvelous touch that derived its own pleasure from him.
The Oliat shuddered with him, urging him on. But it was slow, much too slow. The linkages were soaking up most of the energy that should have propelled him into climax. He felt only Krinata's peaking sensitivity, felt the incredible satisfaction her fingers found in touching him—felt Dar's gratification as if Krinata's fingers were her own—felt Takora joining them, making them whole.
Dar's body came against him from behind, her cheek against the side of his head, her hands guiding Krinata's knowledge-ably, needing him to go on as much as he needed it, but he could get no farther. None of them could tolerate this anymore.
He had to end it. He sought to wrench free and turn to Dar, but he only managed to move his hand from Krinata's cheek to Dar's fingers. Dar's mouth brushed his cheek.
And that was finally enough. His tongue tensed against the roof of his mouth, and his jaw fell open to release the bony tubes thrusting themselves upward from the floor of his mouth in the most powerful and satisfying reflex. He wanted Darllanyu with the perfectly startling need of the very first full arousal.
Yet he could not take his hands off Krinata, and he was afraid he'd forget, in the final moment, to avoid strangling her. It had been a long time since Ontarrah.
The three of them and the other two couples behind them hung at full extension, throbbing with primal need, yet not culminating, for all the energy drained into the linkages, raising their vibration. The volume of the hum escalated with every straining urge toward fulfillment.
//Jindigar!// sobbed Darllanyu, unable to take it anymore. //To me! You must.// Her frustration ate at him as much as his Own, and as much as Krinata's.
All at once it came to him. Krinata held the key to their release. She, the other Center, was barely aroused. She enjoyed arousing him, but now she craved more from him than his touch on her neck could give her. Shaking with unresolved tension, Jindigar forced his hands to slide downward, closing his eyes to concentrate on the human sensations through the linkages, trying to convince his hands to seek lower for her sensitive places. He had to do it. He was aflame with a need to feel her responding to him.
Darllanyu's whimper of strangled protest lanced sharply through him. She needed his touch—and he needed more than that from her. But if he turned to Dar, it would send the Oliat into wild oscillations and disruption as it had when they'd called Eithlarin back.
He let his hands cup Krinata's breasts and felt the linkages respond, smoothly heading for Dissolution. He focused on her pleasure to swamp out his physical revulsion. She couldn't help what sort of body she had. He wanted his hands to tell her that her body was as beautiful as she was, as treasured as she was. She was everything that a woman should be.
His hands remembered the skills they'd learned to please
Ontarrah, and without volition they dropped lower and lower. Her face tilted up to him, mouth open, inviting as she became wholly caught up in what he was doing. And it felt so good to do it to her.
The linkages fairly hummed with new energies, new tones and undertones, adding to the complex shaleiliu chord.
Suddenly the linkages tapped into the worldcircle directly. In that same moment both sets of linkages expanded to the ends of time, then contracted toward Jindigar and Krinata, compressing them together. For eternity all he knew—all any of them knew—was that at last, at long, long last, the intolerable tension gripped tighter, and then ever tighter, so good, so very, very good. In sudden, swift, satisfying rhythm, it broke into wave after wave of the delicious, anticipated catharsis.
They gave themselves to it gratefully, Jindigar glad he had lived to enjoy the end of Renewal onset once more.
But curiously he was still alive, as if something held him tight. There was still that nagging, doubling sensation, and the subliminal impression of a tiny white point embedded somewhere in his consciousness.
Melting onto the dirt floor, Jindigar buried his face in his hands, the taste of human saliva bright on his lips. The interior of his mouth rearranged itself with dismaying swiftness. He was dimly aware from the lack of a particular taste that the catharsis had not been the slightest bit physical. Yet, impossibly, he felt drained, at peace, specifically in the way he had not felt since last Renewal.
Probing as for a sore tooth, he found that the linkages were gone. And he was still alive. It took a considerable while for that to sink in.
Worried about Krinata, he struggled to focus his eyes and found Threntisn injecting the Rustlemother with serum. His other officers were picking themselves up, arranging their clothing and brushing off dirt, marveling to each other that they had all survived. They were totally inconspicuous among the dozens of Natives packed densely all around them. Some of them were still very involved in one another, while others were matter-of-factly preparing to return to work.