Wednesday Briefs: Ancalagon Ch. 39

  

I climbed up and slotted between his legs, gasping when his shaft stroked along mine before I could wrap my hands around them. How did he do that? My eyes threatened to roll back in my head. “You are so soft everywhere,” he rasped. “But this is so hard.”

“Uh-huh.” I ached to come already. I wouldn’t let him take me over like he had last time though. This time I was scenting him. I captured our shafts in two of my hands. His dusky fluids and my clearer precome mingled already, easing the glide of my palms.

I hissed. “So good.” I leaned down to nudge his head to one side, tracing the mark on his neck, tasting the salty musk of his skin. “Mmm,” I moaned as I sucked and stroked.

Crouching over him, I bit down. His skin barely gave, but he rumbled under me and his hips jerked. I squeezed my fists, refusing to let go.

“Essell!” Garjah gripped my hips. His chest heaved. “Do that again.” His tone was desperate, and his hands were going to leave marks on my skin. I pushed up and grinned at him.

“I’m the boss this time,” I panted. He’d made the first time between us amazing; I would never forget the way he’d taken the time to explore and enjoy my body. It had driven me crazy at the time, but now it was my turn. I wanted to find every spot that would make him respond to me, learn what I could do to his body that would drive him out of his mind with need and addict him to my touch.

I would make sure he needed me as much as I needed him. My scent, my touch, our pleasure together. An unfamiliar feral need had risen up inside me, and I welcomed it. “Relax.” I pitched my voice lower and eased the tight grip I’d taken on our shafts and stroked slower, softer.

His breath hitched.

Yes, that was it. “There you go,” I crooned. Leaving just one hand to hold myself up, I caressed his markings on his chest, scratching my nails along the colored lines on his hardened skin to watch it thicken then relax as I moved on.

Gradually leaning in, keeping our eyes locked, I repeated the tracing, this time with the tip of my tongue. He was nearly boneless when I was done, a feat for the perpetually rigid male constantly trying to protect me and everyone else on the ship. Looking up at his face, I reveled in the lazy eyes, parted lips, and flared nostrils as he took in deep breath after deep breath.

There would be time later for hot, hard, and fast. This time, I wanted him to scent him and bond us together in a moment devoid of frenzy, so he would know always looking back that I’d chosen this, chosen him deliberately.

How could I do anything less?

With all the questions and craziness, it hadn’t crystalized inside my brain until right this moment. I wanted him more than anything else. Everything about him made me feel good, wanted… maybe even loved. I wasn’t sure exactly if I knew what love was, or if it worked like that with aliens, but the connection I felt to Garjah was better than anything I’d felt with anyone I’d ever met, and I’d never want to lose that. I’d do anything and everything in my power to keep it.

He was mine.

I swallowed hard, then pulled back, kneeling over him. I planted one hand on his chest, the other over the ache in mine, and then tightened the loose grip I’d taken over our shafts. I began to squeeze in a rhythm, pinking to forefinger, and then thrust against him. The skin of his cock was curiously textured, but slick it felt good against my skin, just the right amount of catch against my glide.

Garjah gasped when I thrust again, and his shaft pulsed. He grabbed the pillow by his head in tight fists, and the vents along the sides of his cock began to gape open. My cock pulsed, thickened, and I glided my hips back and forth, keeping the movement smooth and steady when all I wanted to do was thrust wildly until the friction sent the tingles in ever-stronger waves to my balls.

Groaning, my control almost snapped, the muscles in my back and ass clenched. All along his shaft, liquids began streaming from the vents in pulses. Salty, metallic-tanged heated slick that nearly cost me my grip went everywhere between us because I could not stop thrusting against him as Garjah cursed and shuddered.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” I chanted. The slick was warm, and my shaft began to tingle just my body had before. I couldn’t have stopped my orgasm if I wanted to, and I didn’t. I yanked my hips back so the tip rested against the base of Garjah’s shaft. Rope after rope of thick white come streaked over his cock, and I continued to stroke him with my hand through his orgasm, milking the jets of his prolonged release from him and make sure my come would cover him, fill him.

My muscles trembled, and by the time he stopped, his entire abdomen and the bunk was covered in a slick, green- and white-tinged mess. I slipped off his body to slump beside him onto one of his outstretched arms. Curled onto my side facing him, ignoring the mess of the bed, I ran a hand over his belly and our combined release.

The scent was so much stronger out in the air than it had been mingled inside my body. The feral need inside me eased, and I relaxed in sated pleasure, confident I’d laid claim to him in the most basic way possible. There was no scent other than ours present, and no one would ever miss that Garjah smelled like mine.

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Julie Lynn Hayes