Amorous Overnight

by Robin L. Rotham

  At the slick sound of flesh being lavishly lubricated, he opened his eyes to slits and watched through his lashes. Cecine knelt naked between his thighs, sitting back on his heels, lubricant dripping from his hand and his testicles while he stroked his erection. His mouth hung open as he breathed deeply, ruddy patches staining his cheeks. When he glanced up and saw Hastion watching him, he straightened and his uncompromising expression returned. He slid his free hand under Hastion’s right thigh, just above his knee, and folded it back against his chest.

  Hastion inched his left thigh farther out, deliberately leaving himself wide open, and Cecine closed his eyes with a visible shudder. Then he knelt up and leaned forward, using the hand on Hastion’s thigh to support himself. With his free hand, he guided his slick cock between Hastion’s buttocks and pushed deep.

  “Oh Peserin,” Hastion groaned, clutching at the mattress, no longer even trying to stifle his cries as the minister planted his right hand on the bunk’s edge and hammered into him ruthlessly. It fucking hurt with no preparation, but he was so aroused already, he didn’t care.

  Judging by the avid look on Cecine’s face, he didn’t care either, and the knowledge only fed Hastion’s arousal. Would Milnon derive as much pleasure as he did from being deliberately hurt? Or would he merely tolerate it, suffer through it for the minister’s pleasure?

  Would the minister derive as much joy from hurting him?

  Perversely determined to see that he didn’t, Hastion hooked his free leg behind Cecine’s and reached up through his silky hair with both hands to grasp his head. The great male might as well know exactly what he was trading away.

  The minister’s rhythm faltered as Hastion pulled him down into an openmouthed kiss. Then he let go of Hastion’s thigh and began his assault in earnest. He seized Hastion’s wrists and slammed them down on the bunk, fucking him fiercely with both his tongue and his cock.

  Crying out in agony and ecstasy, Hastion fought the viselike hold on his wrists. At the same time, he wrapped both legs around the minister’s hips and threw his entire body into fucking him back. The searing pain in his ass didn’t ease, but the sheer pleasure of moving, of responding freely, sent shocks of effervescent sensation through his muscles and sinew, and over every inch of his skin.

  In response, Cecine growled harshly and dropped to rest his forearms on Hastion’s, bruising them with his weight as his thrusts grew even more violent. The deeper angle of his penetration resulted in almost intolerable friction against Hastion’s prostate, and rather than tensing and resisting the pained panic signals that flared throughout his body, Hastion opened himself to them, his chest heaving as he inhaled the intoxicating fumes of unchecked arousal.

  Orgasm gathered and struck with all the speed and devastation of a lightning bolt. Hastion’s back bowed, and he screamed as the force of it tore up from his balls into his belly and exploded out every nerve ending from his toes to his scalp.

  The minister slammed into him with a bellow, and then reared back to do it once more, his head thrown back and his teeth bared as his seed flooded into Hastion. It was impossible to tell whose pulses of release were whose in that spine-searing moment, which seemed to stretch into eternity.

  Gooseflesh rose on Hastion’s skin with every shuddering breath he sucked in, and it was only when the minister’s forearms shifted and his weight settled onto him that Hastion realized he’d lost feeling in his fingers.

  Refusing to acknowledge the wet trails running into the hair at his temples, Hastion summoned every ounce of resolve to meet the minister’s hot, unfocused gaze with detachment. “I believe that ends my service to you, sir.”

  Cecine’s expression went blank. “I believe you’re right, Ensign.”

  Shelley was swimming in an ocean of arousal as her mates stared at each other. She’d done nothing but breathe deeply and watch while they exposed this unexpected and intensely arousing facet of their sexual relationship. Cecine had teased and tortured Hastion as though he’d been a sadist all his life, and Hastion… Well, she would have been worried if he weren’t obviously enjoying it. He’d come the first time without any prostate stimulation at all, which she hadn’t even thought was possible, and the second time…

  Just…wow.

  “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she breathed when Cecine reared back and climbed off the bed.

  “He’s a beautiful creature, isn’t he?” he said, striding into the room’s small bathing area.

  “Very beautiful,” she murmured, “and not just him.”

  The shower went on as he called, “Thank you.”

  Shelley smiled. She hadn’t realized he could hear her in there.

  Her gaze drifted to Hastion, who still lay on the bed panting with his arms above his head, his knees up and his eyes closed. She frowned. Was that a tear running down his temple?

  “Hastion, are you okay?” she asked.

  He didn’t move. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Are you sure? Because you don’t look fine. Are you in pain? Why aren’t you moving?”

  “I’m just…” his lips quirked, “…letting it all soak in.”

  She blinked. “You mean, like figuratively, or…?”

  His smile widened to a grin as he turned his head to look at her. “Literally,” he said, swiping his hand across his belly and then wiping it on the mattress beside his hip. “Infirmary bunks are infused with biologic material for sanitary purposes.”

  Blushing, she laughed. “I already knew that, but thanks for the reminder.”

  When the sound of splashing water stopped, Hastion turned his face toward the ceiling again and resumed his inspection of his eyelids. A second later, Cecine walked in, still naked and dotted with water from the chest down.

  Walking straight to her bunk, he smiled. “How are you feeling now, szistaan?”

  “A little drunk, I think. A lot horny,” she added with a heavy sigh.

  His smile turned naughty. “Would you like me to do something about that?”

  Startled but intrigued, she said, “Like what?”

  “I’d like to taste you, my mate.”

  After what he’d just done to Hastion, Shelley didn’t even hesitate. She rolled to her back and spread her thighs, kicking off the blanket as she pulled her gown up to her waist. “I’d like that too.”

  Hastion gave a throaty chuckle and she glanced over to find him lying on his side, watching her. “She’s definitely drunk on pheromones again, sir.”

  “Good. She might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Cecine braced his hands on either side of her hips and lowered his head at once. He took the time to inhale deeply, giving every indication of savoring her bouquet, and the brush of his hair over her thighs sent shivers of delight through her.

  Raising his head just enough to gaze up at her, he grinned devilishly. “Are you ticklish, my Shelley?”

  Her breathing deepened. A big, naked sadist was teasing her, and it was so fucking hot.

  Untying the neck of her gown, she pulled it off and tossed it on the floor before resting her arms over her head. “Why don’t you find out?”

  His gray eyes darkened. “I suppose I could, since biting you is out of the question for tonight.”

  He began to move his head, trailing his hair oh-so lightly over her rounded abdomen, smiling when the feathery contact made her stomach muscles twitch. Her gasps when he tickled her ribs made him chuckle, and when she screeched and pulled her arms down to protect her underarms, he laughed out loud.

  Then he gathered the ends of his hair like a paintbrush and teased her nipples until they bunched up into tight points. By that time, Shelley was panting and desperate for firmer contact. She pulled his head down in demand, and he obliged her by sliding his hands under her back and sucking her breast into his mouth.

  The relief was so exquisite her eyes crossed. “Ohhhhh…”

  Her breasts hadn’t felt this sensitive and achy since her milk first came in, but
where breastfeeding had satisfied some primitive need in her, Cecine’s suckling perpetuated it, amplifying it into ravening hunger. It felt so good she didn’t want him to stop, but the hollowness it created in her core was making her crazy.

  “God, please!” she cried, tossing her head on the pillow.

  Cecine trailed his hot mouth to the other side, doubling her torturous pleasure. He squeezed both breasts as he flattened her nipple against his palate, and she squealed with delight and discomfort.

  Then he went down without warning, attacking her pussy with his mouth, sucking at her tender flesh as though it would provide sustenance, while his hands continued to grip her breasts. He worked her damp nipples between his thumbs and the edges of his palms, pulling, drawing her out almost to the point of pain.

  “Yessss,” she moaned.

  He squeezed harder, and his tongue snaked inside her—unbelievably deep inside her—before making a long, firm glide back up over her clit. Shelley closed her eyes, grasping her pillow with both hands. “Oh my God, yes!”

  She planted her feet and pushed her hips up, lost in sensation as that amazing tongue rubbed her inside and out, over and over, deeper and harder. Her breathing grew labored and her entire body began to tingle, from her scalp to her palms to the soles of her feet. In between, everything in her drew tight and hard and needy, desperate and reaching for release.

  “Don’t stop,” she gasped.

  His tongue tightened, its focus narrowed to her clit and inner lips, becoming a machine as it worked over her slick flesh. Then his handling of her nipples grew rougher, almost cruel, as he pulled on them, and the delicious pain sent her straight to the edge.

  His teeth on her clit as he sucked hard sent her over.

  Shelley howled, bucking uncontrollably, sobbing with relief at the sensations throbbing through her.

  She drowsed for a long moment, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure and enjoying the feel of Cecine’s smooth, heavy chin resting on her mons as he continued to squeeze and tug at her nipples.

  “Shelley,” he rumbled.

  She cranked up her heavy eyelids far enough to see him staring at her breast. When she focused on her nipple, she frowned. Every tug of his fingers was drawing drops of fluid from her.

  She touched a drop with her fingertip and tasted it. “Milk.”

  “Tysan says the process is responsible,” Cecine told her, his gaze still firmly fixed on the beads welling and trickling down. “It’s causing your hormone levels to fluctuate.”

  Then he looked at her face as he moved upward, resting over her on one elbow to suck off the wet tips of his fingers and thumb. His eyes had gone completely black.

  “Shelley…”

  Although she was heavy with satisfaction and barely hanging on to consciousness, the compulsion to offer him sustenance was undeniable. Reaching up with leaden arms, she pulled his head down and closed her eyes with a sigh. His growl as he latched on to her was the last thing she heard before she drifted into dreams of ecstasy.

  The minute Shelley opened her eyes, she was wide awake—and starving. Her stomach growled as she stretched carefully and looked around. Hastion was asleep on the bunk to her right, fully dressed in his uniform and boots. On the bunk to her left, Monica was curled up under a blanket, also sound asleep.

  Tysan hurried in, looking exhausted. “Good morning, Shelley,” he said in a low voice. “How do you feel?”

  “Really good, actually. Is it over?”

  “It is. Empran, elevate the head of the bunk thirty degrees.”

  “Affirmative.” The head of the bed slowly raised so that she wasn’t lying so flat.

  “How’d I do?” Shelley asked.

  He smiled so brightly he practically glowed. “You made the fastest, easiest transition we’ve seen yet. I didn’t even have to sedate you. We’ll definitely be making some adjustments to the process based on what we learned from you.”

  “Yay, me. So what day is it?”

  He thought for a moment before saying, “It’s been five days since you arrived here.”

  “Ah.” She’d forgotten they didn’t go by the same calendar here. “When can I see my babies?”

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready,” she said eagerly, yearning exploding inside her. She wanted to hug them and smell them and rub her face all over their tummies and hear them giggle.

  Hastion sat up and blinked at her, suffering from a severe case of bedhead. “You’re awake.”

  “Unless I’m dreaming,” she agreed with a smile.

  He hopped off his bunk and hesitated only an instant before leaning down to gather her carefully into his arms.

  “If you’re dreaming, don’t wake up yet,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you, Shelley-Belle.”

  She hugged his neck tightly, inhaling his familiar, if slightly ripe, scent. “Thank you for staying.”

  “As if anything could have dragged me away.”

  Then she noticed her long, pointy elbows sticking out and her eyes widened. How could she have forgotten? “Ooh, I’m skinny! I want to see.”

  Hastion pulled away with a grin. “You’re slender, not skinny.”

  A full-length flare image appeared beside the bed and Shelley propped herself higher on one elbow to see herself. “Oh…wow…”

  Her heart beating faster, she sat up carefully, sliding her bare legs from under the blanket to let them dangle over the edge of the bed. She’d seen Monica and Jasmine after their transitions and knew they looked really different afterward, but somehow she just hadn’t expected…

  “I’m a completely different person.”

  It wasn’t just her arms and legs that had stretched. Her previously round face was now long and narrow, just like the rest of her. Long, narrow feet, long, narrow hands, long, narrow neck, and from what she could see, long, narrow everything else under the pale-blue hospital gown. But she wasn’t pale and bony and frail-looking like Monica and Jasmine were after their transitions—her lips and cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright, though she could use a little mascara.

  Her boobs didn’t look too much bigger, which was a relief, but they felt fuller and ached a little.

  “After you’d passed the crisis, I healed the bruising with an accelerator,” Tysan said. “Otherwise you might not appear quite so luminous.”

  “Thank you.” She held up her arm and flexed her biceps. “Wow. Muscle definition.”

  “Rub it in,” Monica grumbled behind her.

  Shelley leaned to the side and grinned at Monica’s sleep-rumpled reflection. “Hey, I worked for it, remember? Now all those hours in the training center are paying off.”

  “They more than paid off during your transition,” Tysan declared. “Jasmine was very fit too, but underweight. You were at optimal body composition for the process and will probably be fully recovered in a matter of days.”

  “I’m still taller,” Monica informed her smugly.

  Shelley snorted. “Like I care. At least I’m not five-two anymore. How tall am I, anyway?”

  “Six feet,” Tysan said, “though you could grow another half inch or so in the next few weeks.”

  “I can totally live with that.” Then it struck her. “Where’s my hair?” She reached and felt a big, hard knot of hair behind her head.

  “Here.” Monica hopped off the bed and stepped up behind her. “It was bugging you every time you rolled over on it so I got it out of the way.” Shelley felt a tug and then a thick blonde braid was dropped over her shoulder. It reached to her lap.

  “Wow,” she said.

  “Yeah, there’s a metric crap-ton of it,” Monica agreed with a smirk. “And guess what, Pony Girl…”

  Shelley’s eyes widened. “No. Way.”

  “Way.” Monica pulled Shelley’s chin back to the right and trailed her finger down a two-inch stripe of hair that ran from her crown down behind her ear and disappeared into the braid. “It goes down both sides, like a bright-pink headband. Holliga
n’s never going to let you hear the end of it.”

  “Tysan, how in the hell did this happen?” Shelley demanded, turning her head both directions to verify Monica’s claim.

  He shrugged. “The process didn’t target hair-color genes. You must have had another premutation that was completed by the genome resequencing.”

  She sighed. “Oh well, if that’s the worst thing that comes out of all this, I won’t complain.”

  Her stomach growled loudly and Tysan laughed. “I’ll take that as a request for solid food.”

  “Please.” Shelley clutched at her long, unbelievably flat stomach. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in months.”

  “A tray will be delivered shortly.”

  Before she could thank him, the door opened and Cecine walked in carrying Wyatt. Tara was right behind him with Kallie.

  Maternal longing shook Shelley like an earthquake and she ate them up with her eyes as she reached out with both hands. “Oh, my babies, I’ve missed you so much!”

  Wyatt stared at her until Cecine tried to put him into her arms. Then he clung to Cecine, looking afraid.

  Ice trickled into Shelley’s belly and she froze before pasting on a bright smile. “Wyatt, honey, it’s me. Mama.”

  Wyatt’s little face crumpled and then he burst into tears. “Mama! Wa mama!”

  Shelley swallowed hard. “Wyatt, I’m Mama.”

  When Cecine leaned closer, Wyatt howled, trying to scramble up his chest.

  “Shhh.” Cecine drew back with a frown, patting his little back. “Wyatt, it’s all right. This is your Mama. Do you remember my explaining how she grew?”

  “Wa Mama! Wa Mamaaaaa!” Wyatt bawled, red-faced and yanking repeatedly on two slobber-soaked handfuls of Cecine’s hair.

  Shelley covered her mouth with a shaking fist. Truly afraid now, she looked at her daughter, who was sucking her thumb with a worried frown. “Kallie?”