Chapter 20 Sim
SIM
Her sharp gasp cut through the quiet of the ruined dome, and my heart seized.
Another wave of pain. Brynn’s hand trembled as she pressed it to her belly, her lips whitening at the edges.
I’d been watching her too long, tracking every flinch, every catch of breath, memorizing the rhythm of her pain.
There was a time for giving her space, and a time for ignoring the expectations of the camp. This was the latter.
I moved before anyone could stop me. My tail wrapped low around her hip, possessive, insistent.
“Come with me,” I murmured, not caring who noticed, not caring if Nim frowned or if the others muttered about overprotective mates.
She tried to protest—she always did, stubborn creature—but when another sharp pain flickered across her face, she surrendered, leaning into me.
I hustled her out of the main encampment, heart jackhammering as I scanned for any semblance of privacy.
The White Tribe ruins were endless, all broken grandeur and haunted corridors, but finally, behind the collapsed torso of a stone giant, I found it.
An alcove walled off by ancient, half-melted pillars. Safe enough.
She winced, bracing against the cold rock. I drew her down to sit, brushing grit off the only patch that wouldn’t threaten to slice her open. She sat, legs parted, breath heaving. Sweat glistened at her hairline. My gut twisted—gods, I hated how helpless I felt when she hurt.
My hands hovering uselessly near her swollen belly. Worry coiled tight in my gut, a cold counterpoint to the warmth radiating from her skin.
"It's alright, my heart," I murmured, trying to sound reassuring when I felt anything but. "Just breathe through it."
She managed a weak smile, leaning her head against my shoulder. Her scent, usually a soothing balm, was thick with an undercurrent of distress that frayed my nerves.
“You should lie down.” My voice was hoarse. She shook her head, swallowing.
“I just need a second. I—” She sucked in air. “It’s not stopping.”
I knelt, caging her between my thighs, my hands a frame around her body. I let my fingertips brush her temple, then her jaw, tracing the places I’d claimed and worshiped so many times. “Breathe for me,” I whispered, not trusting my voice to do more.
She managed a laugh—raw, but real. “Bossy.”
“Always.” I grinned, but it felt tight. Inside, I was unraveling. There was blood on my hands, but none of it mattered now. The only thing that mattered was this woman, and the life she was carrying. I had no idea how to fix what was happening inside her, but fuck me, I’d break the universe to try.
We spoke quietly for a few moments, hushed words about fear and the strangeness of it all. Then, almost casually, she dropped the kind of statement that makes a male re-evaluate his entire understanding of the universe.
"It's just... we don't even know how many are in there yet," she sighed, rubbing her stomach. "Could be one... could be triplets, for all we know."
Triplets? My ears flattened against my skull.
My breath hitched. Triplets? Twins were the stuff of legends whispered about in hushed tones, a near-mythical occurrence spoken of maybe once a generation.
Triplets were... well, they weren't anything.
They were biologically improbable, a statistical absurdity for Manasty physiology.
"Tri-triplets?" I stammered, my voice cracking embarrassingly. "Brynn, that's... that's not really..."
She looked up at me then, and the exhaustion in her eyes was momentarily replaced by a spark of pure, unadulterated mischief. A cheeky glint that I was learning usually preceded some kind of perspective-shattering revelation from her bizarre homeworld.
"Oh, Sim," she said, patting my chest with unnerving calm. "Humans can carry more than that. There have been cases of nine."
Nine.
The word echoed in the sudden, cavernous silence of my mind.
N-I-N-E. My vision swam. The crumbling wall behind Brynn seemed to waver.
Did she mean... nine? At once? My tail, which had been trying to curl reassuringly around her leg, went ramrod straight and stiffened like a petrified tree branch, entirely of its own volition.
Were humans some kind of... of incubation species?
Did they just... fill up? Did they hatch?
Images flashed through my mind: Brynn, impossibly round, surrounded by nine mewling infants.
Our shared sleeping space suddenly resembling a crowded nesting den.
Would we need nine bassinets? Nine sets of everything?
Was I going to need a bigger dome? Nine domes?
The logistics alone were staggering, the sheer biological impossibility of it short-circuiting my brain.
I must have swayed, because Brynn’s small hand suddenly gripped my arm tightly. "Sim? Hey, breathe! It's incredibly rare! Like, world-record rare. I'm just saying it's possible. Probably not happening to me."
I gulped, trying to force air back into my lungs.
The world slowly stopped tilting. Nine. The cosmic absurdity of it lingered.
Suddenly, the idea of just triplets seemed positively mundane, almost disappointingly manageable.
Gods above, what had I gotten myself into with this tiny, terrifyingly fertile human female?
The thought alone was enough to make me feel faint all over again.
She tried for levity. “At least it’s not nine. Humans can have that, you know. Nonuplets. Imagine your tails dealing with nine babies.”
I snorted despite myself. “I’d rather face a charging rakkor bare-handed.”
She grinned, brave and reckless and so fucking beautiful it hurt. “Maybe next time.”
“Next time I’m sedating you,” I muttered, only half joking. But the relief in her laugh loosened something in me. “If it is three…” I trailed off, unable to finish. The idea scared me, made me want to curl around her, bite the world, tear apart anything that threatened her or the children.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said softly. “Everything’s happening so fast. My body—” Her voice broke, and I caught her hand, squeezing hard.
“You don’t have to do anything alone.” My words were a growl, desperate and raw. “You’re not alone, Brynn. Never.”
She blinked, eyes wet. “I know. I just—sometimes I can’t believe any of this is real.”
I leaned in, pressing my forehead to hers. “It’s real. I’m real. And I’m not letting you go.”
She let out a shuddering breath, clutching at my shirt. “Don’t let go. Not tonight.”
As if I ever fucking could.
My mouth was on her before I could stop myself, kissing her hard, tongue thrusting deep, claiming her breath and giving her mine.
Her hands threaded in my fur, desperate and needy, yanking me closer.
I tasted salt, tears, sweat, fear, and I licked it from her skin, letting her feel how much I needed her, needed her safe, needed her whole.
Her legs parted wider, hips shifting instinctively. I felt the hunger rise, that deep, possessive need to fill her, mark her, remind the entire world who she belonged to. But I caught myself—held back at the edge of ravaging her.
“Sim…” She was breathless, the word half-plea, half-warning.
I broke away, chest heaving. “No.” I forced myself to slow, to gentle. “I can’t risk it. Not now. No fucking way I’m adding to what’s already happening inside you.”
She laughed—a wild, shaky sound. “Is that even possible?”
“Don’t care. I’m not finding out.” My tail slid up her thigh, stroking. “But I can still worship you.”
I dropped to my knees, settling between her legs. She gasped as I slid her tunic up, baring her to the cold air and my ravenous gaze. Her thighs trembled, parted for me, slick and already wet, the scent of her sex thick and dizzying. I licked my lips, letting her see my hunger, my need.
“You’re trembling,” I murmured, voice dropping lower. “You need me?”
She nodded, breathless. “Yes. Sim, please.”
That was all I needed.
I buried my face between her legs, tongue spearing deep to taste her, to drink in the mix of sweetness and salt, fear and arousal.
My hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging in, holding her open, holding her still while I devoured her.
I flicked my tongue over her clit, slow at first, teasing, then faster, harder, until she writhed beneath me, gasping, sobbing my name.
“Sim—fuck—don’t stop, don’t you dare—” Her hips bucked up, grinding against my mouth, greedy for more.
I smiled against her cunt, letting my teeth graze her swollen clit, just enough to make her shudder. “You like that?” My words were muffled, filthy, possessive. “Want more? Want my tail too?”
She moaned, feral, desperate. “Yes—use it—use anything, I don’t care, just—oh god—”
I slid my tail up, curling the tip between her slick folds, pressing against her entrance without breaching.
Instead, I traced slow, agonizing circles around her clit with the flat of my tongue, my tail flicking and stroking in time, teasing her open.
She was so wet, dripping down my face, her scent driving me half-mad.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” I whispered, pausing only long enough to speak, to taunt. “Open for me. Needy. My filthy little mate.”
She whined, wordless, hips rolling, chasing every touch. “More. Please. Sim—I need—”
My tail pressed firmer, sliding just inside, curling to stroke her G-spot with relentless precision.
My mouth never left her clit, lips sucking, tongue flicking, building her higher and higher.
Her moans got louder, more desperate, until she was clawing at the rock behind her, legs shaking uncontrollably.
“Come for me, Brynn. I want to feel you lose control. I want you to drench me.”
She sobbed, a broken, beautiful sound. “Sim—something’s happening—I can’t—fuck—”
She arched, body locking tight, and then it hit—her pussy spasmed around my tail, and a gush of wet heat exploded over my mouth, soaking me. She screamed, shaking, her entire body convulsing as she squirted for the first time, pleasure so raw it bordered on agony.
The scent, the taste, the sight of her—fuck, it undid me. I groaned, coming hard in my pants, hips jerking as my cock spilled, messy and uncontrolled, all from worshipping her, from giving her everything and taking nothing but her pleasure.
We collapsed together, panting, sweat and slickness and love tangling us up. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, grinning like a lunatic, drunk on her.
She blinked at me, dazed, lips parted. “Did I just—?”
“You did,” I said, pride and awe in every syllable. “You fucking drenched me. Gods, Brynn…”
She started to laugh, then sob, then laugh again, clinging to me as the aftershocks rolled through her. I kissed her belly, reverent, whispering to the life—lives—inside. “You’re strong, all of you. You’re going to survive this. I’ll make sure of it.”
She tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me up for a messy, hungry kiss. “Thank you,” she breathed. “For loving me like this. For not letting go.”
I held her, fierce and gentle all at once. “Never. You’re mine. And if it is three babies, or a hundred, I’ll protect every last one. But tonight—just tonight—you’re my entire world.”
We stayed there, wrapped in the silence, hearts pounding, bodies trembling. The future pressed close, full of danger and hope and impossibility. But in that moment, with her scent on my lips and her trust pulsing between us, I wasn’t afraid. Not for her. Not for our impossible, beautiful family.
Not when I could love her like this.
A shadow fell across the entrance to our tiny alcove. I looked up, still kneeling between Brynn’s splayed legs, my face and chest glistening with her release.
Nim stood there. He’d approached silently.
His gaze swept the scene: Brynn half-naked and glowing with satisfaction, me kneeling before her like a worshipper at her altar, covered in the evidence of her pleasure.
A slow, utterly satisfied smirk spread across his face.
His nostrils flared slightly, taking in the potent scent of sex and release that saturated the small space.
His eyes met mine, gleaming with both amusement and knowing heat.
“Well,” Nim drawled, his voice rich with suppressed laughter and something distinctly possessive.
He leaned casually against the archway, his tailtip twitching with barely contained interest. “Looks like someone’s feeling…
better.” His gaze lingered appreciatively on Brynn’s flushed face and swollen lips.
“However, much as I’d love to… appreciate the view further,” his eyes flicked pointedly to the damp patches on my clothes and skin, then back to the flush on Brynn’s chest, “Onork thinks he’s found something.
Something about… multiple conception markers.
” His smirk deepened. “Perhaps we should clean up and join him? The sooner we understand what’s growing inside our mate, the better. ”
He didn’t move to come closer. He just watched us, radiating smug approval and a clear, unspoken promise: Later.
I looked down at Brynn. She offered me a shaky, sated smile, her hand resting protectively over her belly. First, though, we needed answers. And maybe a change of clothes. For both of us.