Chapter 16 #2
The stretch was intense—almost too much—but the greenskin was already responding, secreting something slick and warm that eased the way. And those ridges—God, those ridges. They moved inside me, pulsing against my inner walls in that same wave-like rhythm, hitting spots I didn't know existed.
"Oh fuck," I gasped. "That's—you're—"
"Good?" he gritted out, barely holding still.
"Move. Please move. I need—"
He withdrew slowly, and the ridges dragged against me, creating friction that made my toes curl. Then he thrust back in, and they pulsed faster, harder, as if responding to the desperation in my voice.
"The ridges," I panted. "They're—"
"Reading you," he said, setting a rhythm that was already driving me insane. "Learning what you like. They'll move faster when you're close. I can't control it, can't stop it—"
The greenskin tendrils wrapped around my thighs, my waist, creating pressure and friction everywhere at once. One strand brushed across my nipple and I nearly came from that alone.
"Touch yourself," he commanded. "I want to feel you clench around me when you come."
My hand slid between us, finding my clit, and the ridges inside me immediately responded—pulsing faster, harder, as if they could sense how close I was.
The greenskin tightened around us both, the strands moving like sea-grass in a current, brushing and teasing until I couldn't think, couldn't breathe—
"Rainse—I'm—"
"That's it. Come for me."
The orgasm slammed into me, and the ridges went wild—moving in rapid waves that prolonged the pleasure until I was sobbing his name. Through it all, I felt the greenskin trembling against my skin, felt it tighten around him as he followed me over with a shout.
The ridges pulsed one final time as he emptied himself inside me, and the greenskin flared so bright it turned the whole hut blue-green.
When I could think again, I was trembling and definitely crying.
"That was—" My voice broke. "The ridges—"
"I know." He was shaking too, pressing kisses to my face, my throat, anywhere he could reach. "I felt it. Through the bond. What they were doing to you."
"That's not fair. You have a significant biological advantage."
He laughed breathlessly. "Are you complaining?"
"Absolutely not. I'm simply noting it for scientific accuracy." I ran my hand down his back, feeling the greenskin strands still trembling with aftershocks. "Though I may need additional data. For verification purposes."
"Scientist," he accused fondly.
"Yours," I corrected, and felt the bond pulse between us in agreement.
"As I said. You're the scientist. Conduct more trials if you're unsure."
I laughed, the sound fading into something quieter. "I felt it," I said. "The bond. During—I felt it."
"I know." His hand found mine, fingers lacing together. "So did I."
"Is it always like that?"
"I don't know." He turned toward me, propping his head on his hand. "I've never had a mate before. But according to my brothers, yes. It gets stronger every time."
"That seems dangerous."
"Extremely." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "Are you frightened?"
I considered that. Was I? This thing between us defied every logical framework I'd built my life around. It was alien and overwhelming and completely beyond my control.
"No," I said, surprising myself. "I'm not frightened. I'm just... glad."
"Glad?"
"That it's you." I met his eyes. "I didn't want this. Didn't ask for it. But if I had to be swept off a sinking boat and nearly eaten by a shark and marooned on an island with an alien who kidnapped me—"
"Rescued," he corrected.
"Kidnapped," I insisted. "If all of that had to happen, I'm glad it led me to you."
His expression did something complicated. "That might be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Really? I thought it was more of a backhanded compliment."
"I'll take what I can get." He pulled me closer, tucking me against his chest. The greenskin along his ribs curled around me like a living blanket, warm and comforting. "For what it's worth, I'm glad it's you too. Even if you do mock my people's cuisine."
"Seaweed pudding is not cuisine. It's a dare."
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest into mine. Outside, the storm was beginning to ease, the rain softening from a hammer to a whisper. Dawn wasn't far off—I could feel it in the way the darkness had started to thin at the edges.
"What happens now?" I asked quietly.
"Now we sleep," he said. "And in the morning, we'll figure out the rest."
"That's not very specific."
"You want a plan?"
"I'm a scientist. I always want a plan."
"All right." He pressed a kiss to my hair. "The plan is: we wake up. We go back to the main lodge. You submit a DNA sample to make the bond official in the eyes of the Hot Tatties agency. We tell my brothers. We probably get lectured by Pam. And then we start building a life together."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
I was quiet for a moment, letting the words settle. A life together. It should have terrified me. Instead, it felt like the first deep breath after surfacing from a long dive.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay?"
"Yes." I tilted my head up to kiss him, soft and sure. "Let's do that."
His smile was brighter than his greenskin. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure." I settled back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Besides, someone needs to teach you proper scientific method. Consider it my contribution to intergalactic relations."
"Noble of you."
"I'm very noble. You're lucky to have me."
"I know," he said, and there was no humour in it—just quiet, devastating honesty.
We lay there as the storm died away and the first grey light of dawn crept through the gaps in the walls. My eyes were heavy, my body pleasantly exhausted, but I didn't want to sleep yet. Didn't want to miss a single moment of this strange, perfect peace.
"Rainse?"
"Mmm?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For saving me." I pressed my palm flat against his chest, feeling the greenskin pulse beneath my touch. "Not just from the shark. From... everything else. From spending my whole life measuring the ocean instead of swimming in it."
His arms tightened around me. "You saved me too."
"From jellyfish. It's hardly comparable."
"Not from jellyfish," he said quietly. "From loneliness. From thinking I'd never be worthy of this. You gave me something I'd stopped believing in."
"What's that?"
"Hope."
My throat went tight. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I just held him tighter and let the sound of the ocean outside fill the silence.
When I finally did drift off, it was with his heartbeat steady beneath my ear and his greenskin glowing soft and warm around us both—a light in the darkness, guiding me home.