Chapter 14 Nasrin #4
His fingers came to my jaw, cupping it like it was made of something about as substantial as paper folded into the shape of a face. Like I was something preciously formed that he was so afraid of crushing.
“You need never worry, Nazreen,” he rasped. “A Gahn is meant to take on the cares and the hurts of his people. You can lay all of yours down upon me. I promise you that I am strong enough to carry them.”
And just as last night had granted me the ability to imagine Gahn Thaleo as a young child, so too was I suddenly able to picture him at all sorts of points of his life.
Scenes of him assailed me like bullets, as vivid as if I’d seen him in his youth myself and these were my own memories.
An older child, a teenager, a young man, a newly crowned Gahn.
Always scarred, always stoic. Always asking for nothing.
Nothing besides the burdens of everyone else.
“But,” I said, hearing the warble in my voice and knowing tears were coming, “who will carry yours?”
“Nazreen.”
I wasn’t the answer to the question. Instead, my name was a soft admonishment, as if the question were so foolish that I shouldn’t have wasted my breath to bother asking it in the first place.
“I’m serious!”
Gahn Thaleo’s hand shifted, his claws dipping back into my hair, his fingertips coaxing exquisite pleasure from the sensitive nape of my neck. Desire poured through me like rosewater syrup, pooling between my thighs.
“I am serious as well,” he said heavily. “You need never worry.”
I rose up onto my knees, as if preparing to challenge him.
Instead, I leaned forward, placed my hands lightly on his chest, and kissed him.
This wasn’t like last night, where our faces had been so close, and our lips had touched almost inadvertently, igniting an explosion of lust. This was entirely deliberate on my part. There was no way to pretend it was some kind of horny accident.
And even now, as Gahn Thaleo’s arms locked around me and his tongues plunged forward to taste me, I knew I wasn’t acting out of a desire for something physical. But because I sensed something in him, a sort of call I was compelled to answer. Because it was in me, too.
My mouth never leaving his, my hands never moving from him, I slid forward on my knees, fidgeting and adjusting until I was straddling his lap.
A moan tore itself from me when I felt him already iron-hard beneath me.
When I relaxed my weight onto that swollen, needy part of him, he went rigid and gave a low hiss into my mouth.
I needed to be closer to him. As close as possible.
I knew he’d never undress me, even if he wanted to, because he tried so hard not to want.
So I drew back from the kiss in order to whisk my tank top up and over my head. Since I’d been in bed attempting to sleep before this, I wasn’t wearing a bra. I panted, flushed, my top half entirely bared to him.
I hadn’t ever seen his sight stars react this violently before. Whatever control he normally used to leash them was fraying, fast. They pulsed and whirled, devouring the sight of me.
“You can touch me,” I whispered, hoped, begged. Perhaps a silly thing to say, since his hands were already on me. But I wanted him to touch my breasts.
His breath sawing in and out of him, his cock leaping beneath me, he raised his hands with a holy reverence that should have been reserved for the likes of priests or monks or Lavrikala. He didn’t touch my breasts, not at first. He started at my collarbones, tenderly tracing the shape of me there.
The careful, nearly demanding sort of thoroughness of his touch shouldn’t have surprised me.
I’d never accuse Thaleo of being the sort of male to leave any stone unturned.
Except right now, the stones were my body.
He explored every aching centimetre with the fevered ferocity of someone who thought he’d never get this chance again, and had to commit every sensation to memory.
His fingers touched the hollows below my ears, skimmed down the racing line of my carotid, his thumbs coming together to meet in the throbbing divot of my suprasternal notch.
His knuckles were a rough symphony on my skin as he let them drag around the outside curves of my breasts, down to my ribs, as if he wanted – needed – to count each bone.
Only then, when my nipples were puckered with need, did he finally give me what I wanted. He prodded each aching peak with his thumbs, circling slowly, then clasping my breasts in his hands with a ragged breath. I leaned into the calloused ecstasy of his touch.
“Can I…touch you too?” I panted. I dug my fingernails into his chest where I held him, restraining myself from reaching lower like I wanted.
Hazy sight stars flicked to my face. I could see the hesitation in him. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.
But he was too far gone. We both were.
“Curse me and all the peaks of the Deep Sky,” he swore. “Yes.”
I fumbled with the ties of his loincloth, until he gave a harsh growl of frustration and unfastened it himself, letting the hide spill out to the sides.
His alien organ jutted between us, engorged and dark and huge, with two flexible points of flesh standing up on either side.
Cock spears, I’d heard them called by my mated friends.
I touched those first – they were smaller.
Less intimidating. They were firm but springy, like cartilage, and his hips hitched as I stroked them.
Pearlescent moisture beaded at the slit of his cock’s tip, and unable to hold back any longer, I let my fingertips whisper over that place, smearing hot fluid.
Holy fuck. His skin was so smooth. Silken and scorching. I closed my fist around his tip – the only place narrow enough for me to actually reach my fingers all the way around – and began to stroke him and up and down. His hips strained, bucking up into my touch with barely-controlled movements.
“Do you know,” he suddenly asked on a growl so low it nearly sounded miserable, “what will happen if you…keep…going?”
I was touched by his concern. That he thought I might be frightened or surprised by his ejaculation. That he was trying to warn me. Stop me if that was what I wanted.
Which it wasn’t.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I know what will happen.”
I wanted it to happen. I wanted him to relax. To let go. Earlier, he’d told me not to worry. But I was the one who wanted that for him. At least for this moment.
Inspired, I shimmied backwards on my knees until I was bent over him.
I took his hot tip into my mouth, suckling gently and then moaning as his taste hit me.
I squeezed my thighs together, arousal making a whirlpool of my insides.
I took him as deep into my mouth as possible, laving him, revelling in the harsh staccato of his breathing as he fought every instinct not to fuck upwards into my mouth.
He was practically lurching beneath me, like a ship on a stormy sea, trying to remain mostly still until a terrible tremor wracked him and he couldn’t anymore.
I didn’t stop, even when he warned me again, his words chopped short by urgency. I didn’t stop when his entire frame went eerily still, his breath ceasing. I didn’t stop when he exploded in my mouth.
I kept sucking, kept stroking. I took everything he had to give.
Well, almost everything. Turned out that an alien male of his size produced alien loads of similar proportion. After a few glorious spurts, I had to wrench my mouth away. More seed jetted onto my lips, my chin, dribbling down my neck.
Groaning, he lifted a hand, dragging his thumb through the fluid he’d marked me with.
He smeared it along my lower lip, and when my mouth opened, my tongue touching him, he briefly shut his eyes, his face seized by a contraction of raw longing.
At least, I hoped it was longing. Because it also looked like it could be pain.
And I really hoped I hadn’t hurt him by licking come off the tip of his thumb.
“Need…To see you too,” he said, dragging his eyes open with what appeared to be a monumental effort. “Touch you.”
My core clenched in anticipation even while I paused, unsure. Somehow that felt far more intimate than merely sucking him off. Made me more vulnerable.
But when I really drilled down to what I wanted in that moment…
I wanted him to touch me more.
My head moved jerkily up and down as I got shakily to my feet.
I kicked off my boots, then shucked off my socks, trousers, and undies.
The air was very cool on my face and neck, and I remembered that I still had his fluid coating me there.
Coming swiftly back down to my knees, I used my tank top to wipe my face in a fashion that I hoped was discreet but probably wasn’t. His gaze never left me.
Once I dropped my now soiled tank top on the stone, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.
My knees were beginning to hurt. So I sat down between his legs, my knees drawn up to my chest. Gahn Thaleo grasped my ankles then, sliding his grip slowly up my calves, ascending to the top of the mountain my bent legs created.
When his huge palms covered my knees, he slid his thumbs between them and exerted pressure.
Not too much. Not enough to make me actually move.
But enough to show me what he wanted.
My legs – spread.
I cracked my legs apart, then with the force of a flood moving through me, let them fall completely open. His sight stars locked onto my pussy, tightening to furious points of focus. Then, they trembled and exploded outward, spreading across his gaze in a needy haze.
“Nazreen.” He said it so fervently. As potent as a prayer.
And then, he was on me, his fingers and thumbs pressing into the flesh of my thighs, his head buried between them. I shuddered when he pressed his nose into my curls, inhaling desperately, like someone had been holding his head underwater until this moment, and now he could finally breathe.
Then, it wasn’t just his nose, but his tongues, plural.
Three hot, writhing tendrils that devoured and staked their claim.
The slow deliberation of his earlier touches was gone now.
His tongues and mouth moved with rapid, feasting purpose.
Like he was starving and needed to sate himself, and by God, he was going to do it.
But even in the mania of his need, he still somehow had the presence of mind to pay close attention to mine.
When I trembled and whimpered at contact with my clit, he went back to it, circling it in a mind-numbing, demanding rhythm.
He left his two outer tongues there, driving me to the brink of insanity, while the centre tongue plunged lower, lower, right fucking there.
And then it was inside me. Surging forward and fucking hungrily. I was convulsing, my hands gripping his head so hard that, if he’d been a human male, I likely would have hurt him.
“Thaleo, God, please, I can’t… I need… Ah!” My voice disintegrated, my words falling apart at the same moment I did. Pleasure reached such a pinnacle that it nearly felt like a crisis. My lungs burned. Stars shot through my pulsing gaze.
In the midst of this fever pitch, I noticed him grow entirely still again.
Even his tongues went rigid. A vibrating groan built inside me, reached me in my deepest places, making my flesh quicken deliciously.
Dazedly, blissfully, I realized that he was coming again, spurting onto the stone between my legs.
Gasping and boneless, I watched him as he raised his head. His eyes were heavy-lidded with dark satisfaction. That, and something else. A primal sort of possessiveness that lodged in me sure is a hook. Pulled me towards him. Made me softly draw my hand along his jaw.
He suffered through a frisson of indecision. Then leaned into my touch.
“I guess we should probably clean up a bit,” I murmured after a long moment. People did eat here, after all.
I stifled a yawn. Sleepiness that had deserted me earlier in the evening had finally found its way back.
Gahn Thaleo was on his feet at once, fetching a pitcher of water and a few spare squares of hides and bringing them to me.
As I freshened up and pulled my clothing back on, he dutifully cleaned the floor of our mixed fluids.
Which was a bizarrely attractive thing to me.
To see that, even as a Gahn, he didn’t consider himself above scrubbing a floor.
He didn’t even seem to expect me to help, either, as he polished the gleaming stone.
“What are you thinking about?” I ventured. He’d gotten so quiet.
“I was thinking,” he said, swiping his rag along the floor, “how pleasant a task it might be to clean your fluids from this floor with my tongues.”
I choked on my own spit, hacking and wheezing at the blunt and slightly gross nature of his reply.
“I’m fine,” I coughed weakly as he stood, frowning at me. “You just caught me off-guard with that answer.”
He seemed to catch me off guard more often than not.
Once all evidence of our tryst had been erased and the soiled rags disposed of, we walked together through the halls, back towards the sleeping caves.
We moved languorously, neither of us apparently in any hurry.
More questions for him hovered on the tip of my tongue – questions about what we were to each other now and what this all meant.
But I didn’t ask them. Because what would he even say? I obviously wasn’t his mate. And it wasn’t like I was even looking for that kind of commitment from him.
We were just… working through something together, he and I. I didn’t know where it could possibly lead us. But that didn’t scare me enough to make me back away. At least, not yet.
When he left me at the entrance to our caves, I rose up on the balls of my feet and kissed him goodnight.