Chapter 18 #2
“Don't ever apologize.” He leans in, his hand coming up to cup my face. His thumb brushes lightly along my jawline, making my skin tingle in anticipation.
Our breaths mingle, his face mere inches from mine. His gaze flickers from my eyes to my lips, and the heat builds between us.
Then, softly, his lips meet mine, hesitant at first. A light, tentative brush that sends a shiver down my spine.
He deepens the kiss, hand sliding around to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His lips are warm and surprisingly gentle, and I press back, hands gripping his shoulders like he might break into a gallop at any moment.
His lips move slowly, almost reverently, against mine, each kiss growing a little surer, a little more consuming.
Finally he breaks off, panting hard like he's running. “What do you like? Gerverstocks have a suction cock. Selthiastocks have the knot. Parthiastocks have a really fucking strange cock, which is a bunch of tentacles—”
“I just want you, Arture. I… wait, did you say tentacles?”
“You want that?” He drops his pants, a faint line appearing on his forehead as he concentrates. I catch a glimpse of something gold before his crotch floods with purple and tiny squid arms writhe onto the edge of the bed.
“Uh.” I close my legs. Tight. “I’d just like you, please. As you come.”
He frowns at me. “It's nothing special, and you deserve special.”
His assertion makes my heart swell, but also breaks it. “I want you. As you are.”
Arture stares as though he can't understand me. Then the tentacles pull back, a golden shaft taking their place.
It's large, a continuous size as thick as my wrist all the way until the head, where it flares out in a flat disc. The edges of his ridges and down the center of the shaft are feathered, fluttering like the fins of a fish working rapidly.
Even he stares at his cock. “It's never done that before.”
“What hasn't?”
“These.” He strokes one of the fluttering feathers and immediately falls to his knees, gasping, “Drok na.”
I dart upright to his side in seconds. “What's wrong?”
The scales on his chest and face go bright pink. He chokes out, “It's… a lot.”
As he gets to his feet, I stare at his throbbing cock. There seems to be a hole through it at the base, or it's two pieces joined together at the top, like a jug handle.
Once he gets his breath back, his gaze turns heated. His hand drifts from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me close, the solid warmth of his body pressing against mine.
“Do you have alien condoms?” I ask.
“Con… Yes. Gara mentioned this. CNULG, containing natural urges in low gravity.” He grabs his pants and tips them upside down. All manner of things clatter to the floor, but he grabs a tin and with shaking hands pulls out a small ball and mashes it in his fingers.
The ball flattens and becomes more pliable, like playdough. He rolls it down the head of his cock with a low hiss. He must really be super sensitive down there. Even when it's on, the flutters of the ridges are still visible, stretching the CNULG with each movement.
I touch it tentatively, and his eye nearly rolls to the back of his head.
“Nic-coal,” he hisses, and now I realize why he wanted me to scream his name. It's pretty intoxicating to hear him choke it out as he's consumed with pleasure.
He captures my lips with his, tilting his head to deepen the kiss even further. His mouth move against mine in a gentle rhythm, but he's like a leashed animal, hungry yet restrained, careful not to overwhelm me. That sends fire surging through me.
I want more of this. Him.
I slide my hands up his shoulders, fingertips grazing over the smooth interlocking scaled texture of his skin, and he shivers under my touch. Arture’s hand moves up to cradle the back of my head, his fingers tangling gently in my hair as he kisses me deeper, slower, savoring each moment.
I let out a soft sigh against his mouth, and his grip on me tightens slightly in response, a low growl rumbling from his chest. The sound sends a thrill through me, my heart racing even faster at the realization of how much he’s holding back.
His lips break away from mine briefly, his gaze heavy-lidded and intense, searching my face as if trying to read my thoughts.
He brushes his thumb across my cheek, his touch tender, but I want the animal now. I nip his fingers, and his eye widens.
Immediately my stomach drops. “I'm sorry—”
This time, he kisses me and bears me onto the bed with a new fervor. His lips seize on mine with a fierce, unguarded passion, as if he’s finally letting himself feel what he’s kept hidden for so long.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, and he responds by pressing his body against mine, surrounding me, enveloping me in his warmth. I can feel his heartbeats, strong and steady, echoing against my chest.
Opening my legs, I reach down to guide him into my entrance. He pants, holding himself above me. “Nic-coal,” he breathes, a desperate edge to his touch and voice, as if he’s afraid this moment will slip away.
“Take me,” I say, finally finding my voice.
He eases inside me gently, feeling his way with his huge cock. And it is a lot, stretching and filling me up.
But I want him. Like he’s burst through a dam with all his gentle care, I know what I want now, and I don't want to be handled with kid gloves anymore.
I buck my hips and wrap my legs around his torso, arching my back to get more of him in.
It's too much, and not enough, fire rippling through my body.
Then he starts rocking back and forth, filling me more and more each time. His cock hits my G-spot, and the little flutters on his head and shaft tickle and tease, pushing me to the edge
I throw my head back and gasp.
“Scream for me,” Arture says, voice rough.
“Arture. Arture!” With each repetition we climb higher and higher.
“Nic-coal,” he breathes in counterpoint, as if saying my name too loud is a blasphemy. He strokes down my curves. “Thank you, Nic-coal, for giving yourself to me. For trusting me. Drok na, you’re so beautiful.”
Through his glazed eyes, he certainly looks at me as if I’m perfection, eyes drinking in every detail.
And I love it. “Arture. Fuck me,” I growl.
He pumps in and out furiously, no longer afraid of breaking me, and we race to the peak together.
We crest it nearly at the same time, his cock’s pumping sending me over the edge. My orgasm pulses again and again, squeezing every last drop out of his cock. He slumps over me, chest heaving. His hand moves down to my lower back, and his fingers flex, like he’s afraid to let go.
Then he rests his forehead against mine. The tenderness in his face as he strokes a hand down my hair makes me smile, but his eye is filled with something I’ve never seen before—a mix of awe, fear, and undeniable desire.
His voice is a low, reverent whisper. “Nic-coal…” My name on his lips is almost a confession, a plea, as if he can’t quite believe this moment is real. “I… I think I—”
Suddenly he contorts, clutching his head as he rolls off me. The quickness of him withdrawing from me leaves my loins sore, as if his cock's ripped out a piece of me.
“Arture, are you okay? Is it a memory?”
He's in too much agony to communicate, body stiffened into an arch on the floor as if someone's torturing him. His mechanical eye flares, burning hot as a blowtorch, and slowly he begins to shift and change.
His scales ripple to iron gray and red in a pattern overlaying his muscles, emphasizing his tendons with the iron as his skeleton. He looks like he's been flayed alive.
Tears run down my face. I try to stay calm. “Arture, breathe. Breathe!”
The patterns fix, locking in. His gasping pants ease and he slowly gets to his feet.
He's taller now, his beard gone, shoulders smaller.
Worst of all is the lack of his cheeky smile, or his rich dark eye filled with uncertainty, desire or anger.
Now both his eyes are sky blue and empty as an ice-blasted tundra.
Arture Pranastock stares down at me like I'm an alien.