“I hear you proposed to her clan-sister, but I assure you Yasmin is the true prize. You gave her a good run today, and she might just decide that she’ll think about clan-marriage again, or a proper fling amongst our own, though I suspect she’d be a bit rich for your blood after consorting with grubber-girls.”
Romantic interest in Yasmin Saiph yr Astok was the last thing from Hernan’s mind, but if he said so aloud he’d either insult someone or be taken as protesting too much.
“I hear she’s sublime in bed,” Iskandr said, “if a bit … ah, exacting. But so we all should be. Only the best for the best, eh?”
Hernan blinked again, and swallowed against a dry mouth. The Sarronny cadets might be quite forthright about matters of sex and the body generally, but they didn’t gossip about each other’s love lives nor speculate about private matters. Where that line lay between earthy and offensively bawdy, he wasn’t sure, but Iskandr had just plotted a point most decisively on the other side of it.
Excerpt from one of my NaNo 2014 projects: untitled romance with ray guns.
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