by Amanda Milo
I nuzzle the strip of hair that grows over each of her eyes. Then I examine hers closer, bringing a claw up to trace them. “Humans are odd.”
Aurora makes a hybrid of a gasp and a scoff of outrage.
“But,” I press my lips to one browbone before visiting the other, “I respect and enjoy you like I’ve never cared for anyone in all my lifespan.”
“Really?”
I draw back enough to stare into her eyes. “Truly.”
“Simmi,” Aurora says, eyes dropping to the vicinity of my throat for one of my cardiac muscle’s beats, “I want to be closer to you. Do you… want…?”
I gaze up at her, waiting.
Her eyes search mine. “Do you want me? Do you want to have sex with me?”
“If I didn’t,” I tell her, my hands coming to her hips, “I would have run screaming from the room when an alien rolled on top of me.”
Her cheeks go pink, but she smiles. “Right. I should have known. You don’t exactly go along with something you don’t want to do.”
“Never,” I agree. And when she looks at me as if she wants to remind me of our daycycles together, wherein I did many things I didn’t want to do many, many times, I clarify, “Never until you encouraged me to do them with you.” I bring my pelvis up off the resting pad beneath us, deliberately making contact, the slight roughness of my body plating rasping against the thin fabric that separates our groins from touching. “And now that you’ve asked me to go with you on this, I would very much like to accept. You have my permission to proceed.”
She nictates down at me. Then she grins. “You don’t know how much I like you, Simmi.”
I cock my head, taking her in. “I cherish you, Aurora. I hope you know that.”
“I do now,” she whispers, eyes shining. Then she rolls her hips, making contact with me in a way that is completely at odds with the sweet gentleness of her expression.
In no time, my groin plate bulges at the seam, and Aurora raises herself up to look between us. She runs a fingertip where the plate is no longer fitted tightly to my body. “So I’ve got a question.”
I’m gritting my teeth, committed to follow her lead, which is what’s worked for us the entirety of our journey thus far. I’m not fool enough to muck it up now. “What would you like to inquire about?”
She flicks me a glance, snickering at me a little for my formal word choice, I believe. “What do you have behind this and how do we get to it?”
I reach for her hand and show her how to pull down my plate. My crozier emerges: a long rod, thickest at the base and tapering at the flexible tip. Fully extended in front of her, it sways forward and seeks her out, slipping under the edge of her dress. The tip tickles along her belly, until it fits to a small depression… and stops.
I squint. Slowly, I reach for the hem of her garment and raise it until I can see what my member is having difficulty entering. “I was under the impression your groin tunnel was… well, accessible at your groin.”
“My what?”
I glance up, meeting her eyes. “Your—”
“Actually, don’t repeat that.” She smiles ruefully, and she squeezes one of her bi-globes before sliding her hand over the curve of her belly, navigating over the rucked up bunch of her dress and slipping her hand between her thighs.
When she ends her movement here, I manage to drag my eyes up from the fascinating sight of her touching herself and seek out her gaze.
This is evidently exactly what she wanted; she gives me an approving smile and informs me, “I’ll show you what I like first, and then you’ll know what to do next time.”
I swallow audibly. “I am exhilarated at the confirmation of multiple sessions.”
Aurora sends me a demure smile. “Bet on it. And judging by how wet I already feel, it won’t take long for me to get ready.” She slides a slim cloth barrier to the side, parts her soft parts—no feminine body plating to unlock here—and draws her finger in a circle around a fleshy protrusion.
I’m captivated.
Bracing one hand on my leg behind her, she bucks herself into her own touch.
Just watching her has me gasping, let alone feeling her use me as a platform to excite herself on. Hoarsely, I manage, “Aurora?” My muscles are quivering and I’m struggling to remember how to breathe. I can taste the scent of her excitement in the air. It’s making it hard to concentrate.
It’s making me hard, period. I’m afraid I’m going to release too early, until it occurs to me that I might be facing the opposite problem: I’m so excited I may not experience a limit. With Aurora above me, touching herself, I fear I could be in this state all the day and darkcycle.
I drag my gaze up to Aurora’s heavy-lidded eyes, her sultry, smiling lips, and the pounding pulse line in her throat.
Galaxy, she’s a winning sight! I may never leave this sex-maddened state again. Ever.
A wet sound steals my attention, and I feel as if I’m about to explode when she nudges aside my crozier tip from where it was tentatively exploring her for an entrance. Aurora does not hesitate; she sinks her fingers inside herself and she touches her own tunnel.
Watching her insert her digits makes me nearly mindless. My crozier stiffens, lengthening, tapping her belly. My claws curl around her upper arms and I bare my teeth, fighting for control.
Everything in life is going better than it ever has right up until I slide my grip to her wrists.
Aurora freezes.
The light in her eyes… dies.
“Aurora?” I rasp. My tail tentatively wraps around her midsection, easily fitting between us. When she doesn’t move, doesn’t seem to be doing more than deeply, deeply breathing, I release her wrists and move to gently cup her cheeks instead. “What am I doing wrong?”
Aurora’s eyes snag on mine then, and it’s almost as if color and—and life returns to them. She sucks in a shaky breath, and tries to give me a terrible version of her smile. It too is shaky.
I frown, my excitement lowering, which I wouldn’t have thought possible. Not in this state she’s brought me to. “What is it, my beauty?”
Aurora gasps in a wet breath, making a small string of saliva blow onto her lip. It clings there, and oddly, I’m not repulsed; I’m not even afraid. Not of Aurora. Never Aurora. But it’s a strange thing to see. She normally has a very dry mouth. I find her hand, carefully crook one of her fingers, and bring it up to her mouth to make her swipe the string away.
Aurora’s lips twitch.
But that’s all the reaction she musters. Then her eyes, which are also normally dry... I notice with great alarm that they’re producing an excess of fluid.
A rumbling noise erupts from my throat; I’m upset because I don’t know what has made her upset. And I’m suddenly, fiercely, undeniably angry—protectively so, as if my body thinks that I should kill something for Aurora. In my present state of mind, I think I could do it. Maybe not something as formidable as a chipmunk, but definitely a bug or two from a swarm of mosquitoes. Surely leeches, if I had access to enough fire-making compounds. And sterile gloves. Oh, how I miss sterile gloves. I only need Aurora to point me in the right direction for supplies. “I will destroy anything you need me to,” I pledge, unnerved. “Whatever makes you happy again. Just tell me, please.”
At something I say, Aurora seals her lips shut, and sucks in her next breath loudly through a clogged-sounding nose.
Clogged nostrils? Clogged with… mucus?
It’s my turn to freeze beneath her. “Are you ill?” My eyes feel too wide.
Aurora’s brow furrows for a moment—before a laugh bursts from her. It’s a rough sound. But then she’s collapsing against my sternum, folding herself against me like she’s freezing, and when I wrap my arms and my tail around her, she’s trembling as if she is suddenly freezing.
“What’s the matter?” I whisper into her hair, bewildered, and frustrated, because it’s quickly become evident that something is very wrong.
Aurora doesn’t
speak; she only curls onto me tighter. Between us, my crozier slowly slides to the silky skin of her belly, brushing against her, squeezed there and as happy as it can be considering what it wanted a moment ago was to be inside her.
With clumsy, unpracticed movements, I sift my claws into Aurora’s hair, detangling as I go, very carefully running them through the long, light-yellow strands. My knuckles dance like panicked waves when loose strands of her hair try to knot my fingers together, but I shake them free, plucking the resulting ball of spent hairs off her back and dropping it on a side table next to the bed. We can destroy her sheddings later. Idly, I wonder if she left sheddings in the shower also. Judging by the number of times I have to pry my fingers free of her escaping hairs, I’d say yes. Aurora has a terrible exuviation problem. When my claws accidentally graze her scalp, she shivers hard which makes an apology leap to the tip of my tongue—but then she burrows herself even closer to me, until her head brushes my chin. Carefully, I continue to groom her hair with my claws. I’m a little ashamed at how relieved I am that she recently bathed. There has to be less material for her to molt on me now, surely.
Only for Aurora. If anyone else were to cast off their dead anythings on me, let alone alien hairs, I’d shove them to the floor and escape the room in haste.
Instead of doing that, I gather Aurora closer, giving her small body a reassuring (I hope: I’ve never done this before) squeeze.
“They hurt me,” Aurora croaks.
I go entirely still. “Who hurt you?”
Aurora nuzzles her nose against my throat, an intentional brush back and forth, slowly, and I think it must be a self-soothing technique, because after a moment, she relaxes and says, “The men who took us.”
I spread my other hand over her back, my thumb over her ribs, my smallest finger spanned to her other side. “Why?” I try to drop my chin to look at her but she shoves her head against my chin harder, forcing my stare to stay aimed at the ceiling, and not seek out her face which she keeps hidden at my throat.
“Because they could,” she whispers. “They saw me, they took me, and then they used me.” Her fingers feel as if they’re shaking when she places them lightly on my shoulder, tracing a pattern. Tracing my mated markings, I realize. The ones that warn others she is under my protection. That she belongs to me.
My groin plating snaps shut, an ancient instinct readying my body for battle—but most unfortunately, it does this with my crozier still extended. It was still trying to gently lash and stroke against Aurora’s belly. As my plate pinches the excitement from my member, I flinch, body tensing hard, and the reddish tinge that’s bloomed at the edges of my vision suddenly becomes a flood of scarlet. The pain only seems to feed my whirling, enraged emotions. “I wish I could kill them for you.”
“You did, Simmi.” She almost sounds peaceful now. Instead of her fingers continuing to dance and draw lines on me, she wraps her hand over my shoulder, and slides it to my arm, holding there. Holding onto me. “You were my knight without his blazing hazmat armor.”
“I wish I could watch them perish again—this time, with vicious intention. I could arrange for a terrible chemical accident that causes a slower, more prolonged death.”
I think there’s a smile in her voice. She squeezes the swelling muscles of my arms. “I like viciousness from you. Even when you promise things that make you sound like a mad scientist.”
Offended, I emit a squawk. “Aurora, I am a mad scientist. I’m furious—”
My words cut off abruptly because she slides her hand between us, and places it over my groin plate. She teases me there until it opens again and my crozier’s furled tip wraps over her hand, grateful to be freed. Experimentally, she catches the hook with her finger, and gently teases it.
My body is so confused. I’m still feeling angry but at her touch, my interest in sex is reigniting with fervor. My muscles lock, and my hands fly to the bed, my claws digging into softness, ripping through it. Which is fine. Rather the bed than Aurora. “Are we continuing or stopping?” I creak out, unsure. “Because if we’re to stop, I’m going to need you not to tease my organ.” I gulp, and try to shove my chin down on her head, even though she’s butted herself against me. I want to see her. I need to see her. “When you touch it, my brain short circuits.”
In answer, she presses her lips to my pectoral, guides my crozier down, and teases it along her entrance, paying special attention above her entrance, bumping me into her protrusion and back along the slit of her until we’re both covered in a viscous-feeling secretion. She’s emitting something. She’s… sticky.
As a life rule that’s served me well, I’m terrified of sticky things.
But somehow, where Aurora’s stickiness is concerned, I’m not afraid.
What I am is still enraged on her behalf. I don’t want to ever add to the suffering she’s endured though so I grit my teeth, and endeavor to become still beneath her. She is good at leading; she will have to be the one to initiate in this too.
Having the choice to advance or retreat appears to work for her, because Aurora takes the lead again, finding my hand and bringing it between us, fitting my fingers between her legs. Slowly, she uses my digits to... pet herself. It’s not long before I need no encouragement to circle the swollen protrusion she sports here, but I like her hand over mine, and she must like my hand under hers, because she urges me to speed up my movements, never pushing me away. Her body over mine grows tenser and tenser—until suddenly, she breaks.
“Unnh!” she cries, throwing her head back, her hair snapping against my thighs.
I feel my eyes cross as her silk-soft skin twitches under my touch, and when I slide my finger to her groin tunnel opening and dip inside—her tunnel hugs my finger hard.
“Aurrrora…” I growl, growing desperate, shifting under her and stroking my finger up inside her, right where I want to be.
Aurora gasps and reaches for me—not my hand, no: she takes my crozier and tugs it.
I grunt, hips snapping up.
She catches herself on my shoulder with her free hand and connects us.
I thrust into her rippling tunnel. Her entrance hugs me so exquisitely that I almost rear up and bite her on the neck. I restrain myself, biting my lip instead and hearing the erotic squelch as my body works itself into her soaked slit.
And… her excitement smells so good. She smells… like my new favorite extravagance! “I need this,” I tell her.
My crozier draws out slowly and shoves back inside her groin tunnel quickly, not wanting to leave her for long as it licks and pets her insides with greedy excitement. Aurora gasps and writhes over me, and her hands go up like she’s seeking something. But at her next inner-contraction, all her muscles go rigid—she’s frozen above me, panting and whimpering and so by herself that I can’t help but catch her, knitting our fingers together, and bring them over my sternum.
Aurora repositions herself on her knees over me, and I might be growling in the back of my throat until she rises up a little—and sinks down until her soft rear cheeks tap my thighs.
Now I’m definitely growling.
Her lids lower, her suddenly over-large pupils lock on my eyes and she raises herself up slowly, slowly, slowly, planting her hands on either side of my sternum for balance.
Then she turns the descent into a dance.
When she glides down until her nether lips kiss my base, she grins at me, and shimmies on me.
“Aurora,” I hiss in warning, and my arms wrap around her tightly.
We stay like that until she begins to rock her hips forward in little jerks. Stimulating herself, and keeping me crazed. “If you let me go, we can do more than this,” she tells me breathlessly, sounding reasonable and also like she’s trying not to chuckle.
Lungs heaving, I jerk my chin down, as close to a nod as I can manage. “Logical.”
However, I find it difficult to release her. What I’ve been fighting myself not to do is flip her backwards and mount her. But who do
es that? I’m overexcited and not thinking clearly. Aurora is right; I should be logical. Stop clutching her like she could escape me at any moment, before I can have all of her. I already have all of her. There’s really no need to be crazed about this.
Finally, I fight myself down until I can plant my hands into the resting pad beneath us, where my claws give in to the instinct to dig in to the hilt.
Despite anchoring myself, I still feel driven to flip Aurora under me and ride her until we both reach a bursting, pleasurable culmination. That’s not very gentlemanly, but with Aurora’s scent in my nares, with Aurora’s body working atop mine, with Aurora’s gaze keeping me captive—she’s not making me feel very gentle. She’s driving me into a rutting worthy of a beast.
As if she can read my mind, Aurora catches her soft lip between her blunt teeth, smiles up at me, and she places her hands on my shoulders—which she uses to lever herself up, exposing my crozier pole as she makes headway unskewering herself.
On her downstroke, she hides the length of my crozier from view, and the sight of me disappearing inside her heat is almost as titillating as the sensation of her stroking along my length from the inside. Each time the hooked portion of my crozier catches behind her pubic bone, she sucks in a breath and tosses her head back.
This exposes the creamy length of her neck.
I’ve never wanted to bite something more. Not even the most extravagantly expensive dish. Aurora looks delectable.
And when she raises herself up, the view of her drawing off my shaft has me struggling not to grasp her by the hips and slam myself into her body.
Soon though, her up-and-down strokes build the tension up in me until I can’t stop from bucking under her.
This, she apparently likes. Without warning, she squeezes around me—her insides squeeze around me. “You’re so hard,” she groans, sinking down until her fleshy lower lips are sticking to my thick base, and she’s sitting in a pool of her excited wetness. It’s excessive. It should be off-putting. I can feel it leaking out of her and pooling at my base. But there’s no panic from me as this happens—I’m too consumed by her tunnel’s fluttering as it grows even more intense up and down my entire shaft.