Wednesday Briefs: Ancalagon Ch. 33

 

“I don’t know what Timok told—”

Cutting of Garjah, I said, “He didn’t tell me things. I asked him for… information to read.”

Folding his arms, Garjah glowered. “What did you read?”

If I had something to feel guilty about, I would have. He was very stern. I shivered, enjoying the arousal, but I raised an eyebrow. No need to let him think he could bark and drop my trousers.

Even if he probably could.

“About pair bonding.”

He dropped his arms. “Oh. I would have told you about that.”

“I, ah, also wanted some basic knowledge about Four Arms.”

“Are you still calling us that?” Garjah shook his head. “I thought you were a scientist.”

“Your names are simple. I can’t even begin to pronounce most of the vowel combinations in your language.” They used syllables to denote affiliation, and they added syllables to their other names as well. For those who founded it, who lived there, the purpose of the place… Garjah could say their species name in one fluent rolling wave of sound, but to remember it all I had to parse it out. I sounded like a stumbling child.

I’d rather call them Four Arms.  “Four Arms is descriptive enough.”

“You can’t think of anything else?”

Oh, there was more if I were to describe Garjah. The smooth curve of his skull, his chiseled features, the subtle stripes along his textured, green skin, and all those impressive muscles. But Garjah was gentle. A gentle giant.

And his scent. My nostrils flared whenever I smelled his salty, metallic tang, and all I wanted to do was press my face to his body and breathe him in.

I swayed, drawn by the look in his eyes and my growing need to touch him. His skin was usually a darker green, but had paled to blend with his stripes. He didn’t move, but his muscles in his shoulders and legs flexed.

“You smell good, Essell,” he said. His slit pupils dilated into elongated ovals.

“You do too.” I stepped back. He stepped forward. I swallowed hard. His gaze darted to my throat, where the muscles worked.

“Are you hungry?”

“Not for stew.”

“Do you want me to go—”

“No!” If he left again, I would lose it. Studying him, scenting him, the arousal in the air blossoming between us was heady and strong. My nerves were strung tight, but I knew I’d have to make the first step. I hadn’t managed a shirt; I’d have to ask for some.

But at least that made it easier to do this. I opened the snaps on my pants, then pushed them down. Sitting on the bunk, I kicked them off. I leaned back on my upper arms, but I wasn’t sure… I rubbed the sides of my thighs, wanting to touch my thickening shaft but not quite…

Garjah rumbled. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now stop asking me that, and get naked. I’m feeling awkward here.” And horny. It was worth it, because when Garjah slipped out of his uniform, he stood in all his naked glory with both legs spread wide. Metal bands wrapped around both his upper arms.

He did not have an innie. No, that was a beautiful shaft was rasping against the skin of his abdomen, the muted thrum a distinctive sound only a fully-aroused male made with his prehensile penis.

Yeah, I’d learned a lot from the vids Timok sent me. Nothing prepared me to actually see and hear Garjah. He was large, overpoweringly male, and wasn’t taking his eyes off me.

“Move back.”

I crawled onto the bunk all the way, pillowing my head on two of my arms. I succumbed to temptation and grasped my shaft with one hand, stroking up from the base until a pearl of precome beaded on the tip. Garjah stalked forward and climbed onto the bed. He held himself up over me, kneeling between my legs. He peeled my hand away and swiped up the fluid with the thumb on his hand at the same time.

Sticking it into his mouth, he sucked noisily. “You taste salty,” he rumbled. “I like it.”

Glancing between our bodies, I didn’t see fluid from him. “Do you taste salty?” He smelled it. My chest rose and fell with my quickening breaths. I tried to reach out to touch him, but he captured my other free hand.

“No. We will do this the right way,” he said. He pulled my hand to his chest. “Do you, Essell Deray, wish to be my pair bond, to allow me to seek fulfillment in all things with you, to honor and explore all that this life has to offer?”

I blinked. The document said there were declarations made. I thought I’d already done that, but what Garjah was doing, the words he said… My throat thick, I nodded.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“Yes,” I repeated.

A smile spread across Garjah’s face. He bent down and nuzzled my cheek and neck. “I am going to scent you all night,” he said. He let go of my hand, and I placed it on his side, then slid my fingers down. His lower abdomen was ridged, the skin pebbled in rows.

“Oh wow.” His penis stroked the back of my hands. It was really flexible. “Can I?”

“Yes. Your touch will make me slick for you.” It was like stroking something that was petting me back, and after just two strokes, tiny vents along the sides had pursed open. A thin, clear fluid leaked out of the holes. The metallic scent grew stronger.

Eager now, I stroked his shoulders, his biceps, his muscular chest with my upper arms while my lower pair explored his unique shaft.

Garjah allowed my exploration for longer than I would have held out. “Essell,” he rumbled, when I squeezed him tight and pulsed my fingers from pinkie to forefinger in a massage meant to drive him crazy. He grabbed my lower arms. “Roll over.”

Want more flash?

J Alan Veerkamp

Julie Lynn Hayes