32. Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
-Bryce-
A s Kitari’s teeth pierced my skin, a wave of sheer pleasure crashed through me. I arched against him, pushing his face further into my neck, and my cock harder into his hand. My erection strained against my pants. It throbbed and leaked against the fabric, and I writhed, desperate for more.
His clothes were far less annoying. I slipped my hand under the layers of fabric around his waist, seeking him out, and found them already wet. Far too wet to be only precum. I pulled back slightly, looking down at my hand.
“Have you already…?”
He looked confused but didn’t stop his fumbling at the groin of my suit. Finally, he got it open, and my dick was free. The cool air against my already hyper-sensitive skin made me gasp.
He slid his hand along my length, looking like a starved man. Then stopped.
“You are dry,” he said, disappointed.
“What?”
“You are not wet. Yet you smell so aroused.” He searched my face. “I do not understand.”
“Wet?” I was too incredibly horny to make sense of what he was saying. Then he pulled his own clothes aside and I was lost for words. His cock was huge; long and thick and dark with a triple rim around the head. It grew even wider towards the base. It was also coated in a thick, golden fluid; like honey. It looked like it smelled and tasted sweet. For a moment I thought it was his cum, that he had already climaxed, but it coated his entire length in an even layer, and I realized it was coming out of the skin itself.
“You self-lube?” I marveled with a breathless laugh. “That’s handy.”
“Yes, you make me slick. But you, you are not ready?”
I looked down at my own cock, dry with just the glistening blob of precum leaking from my tip, and suddenly I understood the confusion.
“No, no, human men don’t, er, self-slick. Wish we did. But I’m definitely ready.”
His face settled, relieved.
“I thought you did not find this arousing.”
I grabbed at him, desperate to be close again. “Oh I do, very.”
He smiled as he pressed against me again. Our bodies moved against each other, lighting fires all along my flesh. The lube from his cock was warm and smooth, like real honey, and our skin slipped against each other.
The air in the small burrow was heating up fast, and a layer of sweat glistened on his limbs and stuck our skin together. I stopped thinking altogether as I chased the good feeling with my hips and my hands, lost in the pure erotic bliss of it. Our bodies moved against each other, driven by pure instinct. We mouthed at each other, hands everywhere. His lips were on my neck, my jaw, my nipple, biting and sucking and licking. We rolled until he was lying fully on top of me, his weight pressing me down into the soil.
With desperate hands, I grabbed at him in a heady fever of hot breath; his hair, his neck, his chest, his ass, his dick as it rubbed against mine.
Somewhere in the melee, he wrapped his big hand around us both together and worked us into a ferocious rhythm. My hips jerked automatically in time. He rolled us over again so that I was on top, and I thrust into his hand with all my might, losing my rhythm to the sliding heat until I couldn’t even think anymore.
I came first, my body rigid, stars dancing before my eyes. My body spasmed as I spilled across his hand and both of our stomachs. It mixed with his golden fluid, and he kept on going, pumping with his hand until he brought himself to climax, dragging my orgasm out along with his. He growled as I rolled with each wave of bliss, my body arched and rocking as he pushed me higher and higher until I couldn’t even breathe anymore.
Finally, he stopped. I slumped against him in a breathless heap, my face buried against his neck, my mouth open against his skin. His heaving chest lifted me up and down, and he wrapped his arms around me.
“Fuck,” I breathed.
My mind wandered as I lay blissfully against his shoulder, my chest stuck to his, tacky with sweat, cum, and whatever that self-lubing stuff was. And, damn, it felt like the best thing ever. I wanted to float in this moment forever, but of course, my mind couldn’t take one for the team. As soon as my head cleared enough for logical thought to return, it went into overdrive.
What did this mean?
There was an undeniable attraction between us, but I knew hardly anything about their culture. Maybe they hooked up like this casually all the time and thought nothing of it. Maybe this was just what bros did for each other while hiding out in some animal’s hidey-hole, waiting out an electrical storm.
How much of that was because of our pheromones, and how much was because he liked me? And how much did my pheromones affect him, anyway? He’d said that they were very powerful and hard to resist. Was that the same as being under the influence? A horrible thought struck me. Had I just taken advantage of him?
My throat suddenly felt dry, and I swallowed.
Something else occurred to me and I closed my eyes against his neck. Clay had said the soul bond was formed after sex. Was this enough to form one? If one did appear, that meant we were mated for life, didn’t it? That thought lit a small flame in my chest and my heart hammered.
I pressed my face harder against his neck and allowed myself to wonder; what would life look like, here, with him? What was the rest of his family like? Where did he live? Would I move in with him? Would he ever want kids? How would that even work?
I made myself stop. That line of thought was dangerous. The things that I felt for Kitari were obvious, there was no denying it. But that was exactly the problem; I always fell in love far too easily. My last relationship had ended a few months after it started. Apparently, I came on too strong. I committed too quickly, was too needy, too clingy. When I found a connection with someone, I held on for dear life.
One-night stands never worked either. I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love, even as they moved on and ignored me. Every time, I vowed to myself I wouldn’t do it again, until I did.
After my kind of upbringing, you might expect a smart person to grow a hardened layer around their heart—armor to protect themself from the constant shift of life and possibility of abandonment. But I wasn’t one of the smart ones. I latched on to anyone and everyone I could, desperate for connection. Desperate to prove that I was worth keeping. I wished I could shut myself off like so many others, but no matter how hard I tried, my heart remained soft and exposed. Weak. And with each foster parent who passed me on to the next one, with each friend who left to go to their new life, it only made that missing part of me sharper.
Eventually, the truth had settled into my bones; everyone always ended up leaving. It was inevitable. My family, my friends, my lovers. There was something about my need that made me indisputably leaveable. I was so desperate for love that it drove people away from me.
And here I was, the idiot, doing it all over again. I was falling in love, getting attached, planning our goddamn future together. Thinking about kids .
A sudden and cloying fear washed through me. I wanted it so badly, and I was going to lose it before I even had it. I didn’t belong here. We were on different sides. There was no way this could work out. But it was too late for me, I loved him, and I had no idea what to do about it.
So, I kept my mouth shut, kept my eyes closed, and held onto him for dear life while I waited in the dark and prayed for the bond to form.