Romance: Yes, Stepbrother!

by Annie Valentine

  “I’m going to meet with the council,” he said, “and then I’ll be back. It will probably be few hours.”

  ***

  The Council had been waiting for him.

  “Ren,” the Head Councilman had said. “Tell us.”

  And he had explained everything. His plan to bring a hundred woman, and how it had failed. His adjustment of bringing only Morgan, and how he had a vision for the future of sending men out on assignment to Earth, the idea that each would bring back a partner, or two, or three, and, slowly, Mador would begin to repopulate itself.

  “Renard,” the Head Councilman said, using his full, given name, “you have done well. And, we know that you have been informed of the events involving the Governor since your departure.” The Head Councilman looked at the other men at the table, all of whom offered a subtle nod. “We are here to offer you election to the position you have been preparing for since the day of your birth. You are, upon your acceptance, Governor Renard.”

  Even without Ren responding, all of the men on the Council stood up and bowed to him. He bowed in return. He left the office of the Council as Governor Renard of Mador.

  Eager to put his plan into action, he went to the Palace instead of returning to his home, which he would pack up with Morgan and leave by the end of the day. He looked at a list of the citizens of Mador and chose fifty strong men, fifty of his finest, to offer the opportunity of an Earthly adventure.

  He contacted each, and, by the time he left the Palace three hours later, all fifty men had agreed to serve their planet and go to Earth. Their mission was to partner with one, two, or three women, and bring them back to Mador in under a year’s time.

  When he arrived home that afternoon, Morgan greeted him with a smile.

  “We’re moving, my love,” Ren had said. “They titled me Governor this morning. Our new home is the Palace of Mador.”

  Chapter Ten: Morgan

  Morgan understood full well that her role was to procreate. To help repopulate the plant of Mador as much and as often as she could. What surprised her was how she welcomed this role with open arms. It filled her with a sense of purpose that was far more real than journalism, or creative writing; more real than anything she’d ever done in her life.

  What Morgan didn’t understand was why she wasn’t pregnant yet. She and Ren made love every night, sometimes two or three times. Each time, he climaxed, filling her with his seed, and each time, her body seemed to not understand what to do.

  She frowned at yet another failed pregnancy test. That was how she thought of them; not as positive and negative, but as failed. She shook her head and looked at the stick again, willing it to say something different. She wondered if she should go to the Palace doctor, surely she had to be pregnant this time. All the signs were there: her breasts were swollen and tender, she had missed her period, and she felt different. But, she had tried to explain all of this to the Palace doctor before, he had looked at her sympathetically, listened to her list of the symptoms, and declared her pregnancy a “hysterical pregnancy.” Surely it happened on Earth the doctor commented. Women want to become pregnant so badly that they begin to manifest the symptoms of being pregnant. But, desire alone was not enough to produce a living, breathing child.

  Morgan knew she couldn’t go through that conversation again. She took another test—she always took two, just to be sure—and failed again. She left the Palace. As First Lady, she was supposed to tell people where she was going, always, in case there was an attack from neighboring Lorchi, a planet that was constantly threatening them. This time, she slipped out of the main gates and down the path into the city without being spotted.

  She walked along the main street of town, which, try though she did, she could never envision quite like a street in a city on Earth. The buildings were made of a different material, and they were structured oddly. The people, though they looked human—as Morgan had always known they would—populated the streets just like Earthlings, so she focused on them as she walked.

  “Morgan.”

  She heard the voice and stopped, pausing, not sure she’d heard correctly. No one but Ren used her name. She was Madame, always, to everyone.

  “Morgan, Earthling.”

  The voice sounded again, and Morgan looked around, sharply, looking for someone who was watching her. The only person looking in her direction was an elderly woman, rare in her own right as being female, sitting on a stoop outside of a building that had been marked for demolition.

  “Do I know you?” Morgan asked, approaching the woman.

  “You are Ren’s,” the woman said. Morgan was taken aback; not only was the woman addressing her by her familiar name, she had referred to Ren by his name, instead of Governor or Renard.”

  “Who are you?” Morgan demanded.

  “Sit,” the woman said, ignoring the question. “Sit, and I’ll tell you why you are not yet with child, when you should be.”

  Morgan felt a stab in her stomach; she grabbed it and nearly doubled over. “What the…” she said, making her way over to the old woman and sitting beside her. “What’s going on?” The pain in her stomach was intense.

  “Ren wasn’t always who you know him to be,” the woman began. “He was aimless. Not even a fighter. Not someone you would trust to watch your mongrel dog, never mind someone you would depend on to save your planet.”

  Morgan listened, the pain in her stomach beginning to subside as the woman’s story captivated her attention.

  “He had no purpose. He was sent to Earth. Not, as you understand, because everyone thought he was the salvation of the planet, but because he needed to prove himself. He has always been our leader… he just needed to prove that he had earned his birthright.

  “Now… he has,” she continued. “But, in order to complete his birthright, he must produce an heir. A girl. Or two. Or twenty. The more girls he can produce, the more the people of Mador will honor him and remember him in future generations as the Man Who Saved Us All.”

  Morgan looked at the woman, but did not speak. Her question was all over her face.

  “No,” the old woman said. “You are not with child. But, you will be.”

  Morgan looked at her, tears in her eyes. “When?” she whispered.

  “When you want it badly enough,” the old woman had replied. She stood up then, and, without another word, she’d disappeared into the background of the suddenly crowded street.

  Morgan had walked back to the Palace and snuck back in the same way she’d snuck out in the first place. When Ren arrived home, she wordlessly took him in her arms, kissing him as though it was the first night they’d been together in his penthouse on Earth. She kissed him as if he couldn’t be close enough to her, as if, by kissing him, she could absorb him into her own skin.

  “Wow,” Ren said, noticing her enthusiasm, “what’s this about?” He laughed and tried to push her away, but she clung to him.

  “I want us to have babies,” she said. “I want us to have many, many babies, and I’m not going to rest until we do.” She reached between his legs and grabbed the hardness there, his cock always at the ready whenever Morgan was around, her lips on his arousing him instantly.

  “Come here,” he growled, and he picked her up as he had that first night. She wrapped her legs around him, and he carried her to his bed.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered to him. “Fuck me so hard, I forget my own name.”

  Her dirty talk had always turned him on, and he pulled her hands away from him as he laid her on the bed. He pinned her arms out, her elbows bent at right angles, and pressed her hands down. “Don’t move,” he said. He took his clothes off quickly, then literally, ripped her clothes off. He tossed the shreds on the floor by the bed, and he looked at her body, panting.

  She didn’t move her arms, though she longed to, her want so great for him. She envisioned him coming in her, filling her with warmth, waking up with new life inside her. His life and hers, combined.

  He leane
d down and kissed her, his hands groping her breasts. She lifted her hips and groaned, wanting more than anything his permission to release her hands and touch him, run her hands over his warm, strong flesh.

  “Please,” she begged. “Let me touch you.”

  He looked at her, looked so deeply into her eyes that she thought she could see his soul, and said… “Touch me.”

  She moved as if shot from a cannon, springing up and wrapping her arms and legs around him. His cock found its way into her by instinct, or maybe her pussy found its way to him; she would never know for sure. They were magnetically drawn to one another, and their bodies knew it. They rocked together, each motion filled Morgan with arousing pleasure. The angle was such that her clit was getting direct attention, and she could feel the muscles of her vagina pulling the shaft of Ren’s cock rhythmically.

  “Baby,” he said.

  “Yes,” she agreed, letting the double meaning hang in the air.

  He was sucking her breasts when she shifted a bit upward and he jerked suddenly, his eyes wide open, staring into hers. She saw them glaze over as he fell backward into pleasure.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, “I’m gonna cum,” he said, his eyes rolling. “Oh, fuck—” and he climaxed into her. She squeezed herself tightly to him, squeezing the muscles of her pussy to draw him inward, imagining each drop of his cum to be a new life moving inside of her.

  Her orgasm came upon her suddenly, her arousal so high there was simply nowhere else for it to go but in a stream of heat moving from her center throughout her body.

  “That was it,” she said as her breath returned to normal. He wrapped his arms around her squeezed as he relaxed, his breathing steady and strong, his heart beat against her cheek. “That was it. I feel it.”

  He kissed the top of her head and she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Eleven: Ren

  Ren sat at the conference table and remembered Morgan’s hands on him, her fingertips wrapped around his shaft as she’d sucked his cock only a few hours ago as a part of yet another marathon lovemaking session. She was convinced she was pregnant now, a thought which both pleased him and unnerved him. Unnerved him, especially, with the news the Head Council had brought to the Palace that morning.

  Lorchi was preparing an attack. The neighboring planet had always had an antagonistic relationship with Mador; back through thousands of years, they had fought one another every few hundred years.

  “Lorchi is dying,” the Head Councilman said. “Their resources have dwindled far past the point of crisis. If they don’t get what they need: food, water, supplies for shelters, the population will likely die off within the next fifty to one hundred years.”

  Ren arched his eyebrows in surprise. Fifty years was a blink of an eye. “How did they let things go so badly?” he asked.

  “There was a disease,” the Head Councilman said. “A disease morphed out of tree roots and took out the majority of their food and water. Once those elements were contaminated, well, it didn’t take long.”

  “How do they have the resources to attack? And why now?” Ren demanded.

  The Head Councilman looked at the rest of the men at the table. “Well,” he said carefully, “they’ve been stockpiling all of their resources, everything they can spare. They’ve amassed an army. They’ve been waiting to attack until…” He paused, looking down at the table.

  “Come on, Man, spit it out!” Ren said, his voice full of distain.

  The Head Councilman looked up, directly into Ren’s eyes. “They were waiting to get confirmation of your return,” he said. “To make sure that you weren’t missed.”

  Ren felt all of the air go out of him. He thought about Morgan and the unborn child she was certain she was carrying.

  “And if we can’t stop them?” he said in a low voice. Then, louder, “What if we can’t stop them?”

  The Council looked at one another nervously. They all knew what was not being said out loud. Ren had been many things in his life, including the Prime Minister of Procreation and Reproduction, but he had never been a fighter. He had never organized a battle, or won a war. Other people had, including the Head Councilman.

  “You must stop them,” the Head Councilman said. “Renard, Governor, Sir, you do not have a choice.”

  After the meeting had adjourned, Ren had sat in his chair in the empty room for hours, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. He thought of Morgan and what would happen to her. What would happen to their child. What would happen to the fifty men he had sent to Earth. If their planet had been ransacked, burned, destroyed, where would they return to? Where would they call home?

  “I have to stop this,” he said out loud. “I have to stop this, no matter what the cost. I’ve worked too hard.” He stood up and walked over to a life-sized portrait of the former Governor. His eyes were kind but intense, and his gaze followed Ren as he paced around the room, formulating his plan out loud.

  He didn’t realize it, but he’d stayed in the room for hours. When he felt as though he might have a possible plan, one that needed to be run by the council for approval, but a plan nonetheless, he went back to his quarters in the Palace.

  “Where have you been?” Morgan said as soon as he walked in the door. She embraced him, and he wrapped his arms around her, finding peace and solace in the scent of her hair brushing against his nose.

  “There’s been a threat to Mador,” he said. “I can’t tell you specifics, just that there is a crisis.”

  “Will you need to go and fight?” she asked soberly. She pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Tell me. Be honest.”

  “I will not,” he sighed. “But many men will. I don’t know exactly what the plan will look like yet, but I will keep us safe. All of us.” He touched Morgan’s stomach and imagined that he was feeling the small bump of what would be their first daughter.

  She embraced him again, and she led him to the bedroom.

  “Better safe than sorry,” she said.

  For the first time, Ren was distracted during their lovemaking. The battle was upon them, and it would take no prisoners. It was up to Ren to stop Lorchi before they took everything he held dear.

  Chapter Twelve: Morgan

  She looked at the test in disbelief. She closed her eyes, opened them again, and looked again. Still positive. Pregnant. She had passed the test.

  She knew that Ren was in meetings all day working on the plan to attack Lorchi before their soldiers could attack Mador. She knew that he would be tired. Still, she dressed in a teddy she’d bought that day at one of the local shops, and laid on the bed with the test in her hands. When she heard him walk through the door and call her name, she called out.

  “I’m in the bedroom.”

  He walked into the bedroom and she watched him take her in, first in one big gulp, then in tiny sips as he observed the details. The teddy was a light, mint green with black lace detailing. It was strapless, and the bodice laced up like a corset tightly against her, pressing her breasts up. The panties were barely more than a slip of fabric covering her freshly shorn pussy.

  “You look… stunning,” he breathed, walking into the room and closing the bedroom door behind him. She smiled, watching his dress pants tent as his cock awakened and rose toward her.

  “How was your day?” she asked, genuinely curious. She wanted to gauge how likely it was that they would make love… not that they needed to anymore. Now, it would all be for the simple pleasure of it.

  “What day?” he asked, smiling. “I don’t think I had a day. I think I woke up and this was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  She flicked her wrist, drawing his attention to the pregnancy test in her hand.

  “Not the most beautiful sight,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “Is that…” he looked at her with question marks in his eyes.

  “It is,” she said, her smile so huge she thought it might break her face in two.

  “And is it…” he began.
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  “It is,” she said, and she jumped out of bed and into his arms. He took the test from her and looked at it, then screamed in celebration as he hugged her, kissed her, nearly crushing her with his joy.

  “My love,” he said, smothering her with his lips, kissing her face, her neck, her collarbone, her chest. He boosted her up in what had become their trademark move, and he carried her to the bed.

  “We can do it now only for the joy of it,” she said. “For the first time, our lovemaking is only for love.”

  He didn’t speak, but pressed his cock to her, trapping it between her thigh and his. He rubbed himself against her body, and she wrapped her arms around him.

  She rolled him onto his back and straddled him, hovering over him, her body still covered in the mint teddy. He reached up to unlace the corset, freeing her breasts as he peeled it away and discarded it onto the floor.

  He kissed her breasts, giving her nipples gentle bites that he knew drove her wild. She groaned with pleasure and then, before she got even close to coming, she dropped lower, her breasts sliding down to his cock, resting his shaft between the two mounds. She pressed them together and began to stroke his cock up and down.

  He groaned as she titty-fucked him, his groans turning into gasps of pleasure as she alternated her strokes with light kisses on the head of his cock.

  “Morgan… fuck,” he gasped.

  She kissed his cock once more, then let her breasts fall away, bringing her hands to his cock and beginning to gently twist his shaft between her palms. She lowered her mouth and began to suck, hard, creating a vacuum with her cheeks. She continued to stroke his shaft with one hand, while the other cupped his balls in her palm. Every few moments, she splayed her hand out and, using the lightest touch, slid her fingernails across the sensitive skin of his sack. He responded with a shudder every time, and she continued to suck him harder and harder, her tongue like a razor on the underside of his head.