She forces me deeper, so deep that she retches. When I twist my fingers in her hair to pull her off, she whimpers and trembles, every part of her going soft for me.
“Why must I be your villain, terrakin?” I hiss at her, my cock more furious than it’s ever been in my life. “Am I to protect you from others all day, only to be worse than them all at night?”
“I just want to make you feel good,” she whispers. “As good as you make me feel. Stop fighting me so much. I’m not your enemy.”
Her words gust through me, stirring my pigment, catching at my breath, blowing the dust from forgotten parts of my heart. When all your friends are false and only your enemies are true, it’s too easy to forget what generosity feels like.
Until this moment, I’ve been so unable to conceive of something freely given, I could not even thank the goddess for my Alara, the most generous blessing she could bestow. I could not evensee it.
I cradle Lena’s face, tracing her features. “No, not an enemy. A gift that I do not wish to break.”
Her smile blooms. “I’m not that breakable. More of a bendy type.”
She plants her palms against my thighs and strokes them like a favored mount before taking me in her mouth again. She settles over me slowly this time, each small increment an indulgence. Something sacred. Forher.
I am taking, and somehow, she is receiving. What kind of mathematics is this?
I can’t help it. For just this moment, I let myself get lost in her. I tend her hair and tears, gauge her breaths and sighs, watch her colors shift pale-to-pink and back. She’s so perfect, the rest of the universe can go fuck itself.
“Look at you, my pretty pet,” I croon, combing my claws through her hair. “I like you like this. So lovely and soquiet.”
She smiles around my cock, and then one hand disappears from my thighs. A few moans later, I realize she’s making noise because she’s touching herself while she sucks me. Clever, wicked thing, enjoying my small cruelty and proving me wrong in one action that she knows I won’t try to stop.
Thank Alioth she’s not my enemy, because she’s already defeated me. Defeats me again and again.
Frix.
Again and again, I thrust into her mouth, pausing only to let her snatch the occasional breath, until she clutches and shakes with the strength of her own pleasure. The accidental scrape of her teeth when she comes makes my back bow.
Then, when her mouth goes sweet and dreamy, like it needs comfort rather than pure sustenance, I slow, dragging out my own experience so I can luxuriate in it. In her. It feels selfish, but I hope she knows this is worship.
When I finally let myself spill, I don’t even think to pull out. Pulse after pulse goes straight down her throat so she can’t spit it out or rinse it away. I want my seed in her so deep that even the cleansing unit can’t touch it. I want everyone to smell me on her breath.
I finally drag her off my cock when it starts to soften, though she seems less than eager to let it go. Puffy-lipped and smiling, she curls into me, using my bicep as a pillow for one tear-damp cheek .
“I told you,” she says triumphantly, voice hoarse. “Being a pet isn’t so bad if someone takes care of you like that.”
“Having one is a torment,” I mutter into her hair, picturing all the things I want to do for her and can’t. She will have no cupboards full of svelis nor cliffside palaces. No planet of people to bow their heads or bring her offerings. Mated to me, she is more likely to occupy a prison cell than a throne. I cannot even give her clothes that fit.
As though she can hear my thoughts, she strokes the side of my face and says, half dreaming already, “I’m glad it’s you. I’m glad to be yours.”
Chapter 19
Lena
On the way to breakfast, I keep sneaking glances at Lyro to see if he’s thinking what I’m thinking—that last night was a breakthrough for us. After our electric sex, he bitched about how hard it is to have someone to take care of, but the whole time his hands were on me. Cradling me, touching me like I was some kind of miracle.
“Youlikeme,” I tease, bumping him with my hip as we walk down the passageway.
He doesn’t confirm or deny it, but he rests one hand on the back of my neck, squeezing slightly.Dragonfly.
The thing about dragonfly mating that most people don’t understand is that it’s not just the male dragging the female around. It’s a complex collaboration. It doesn’t work if she doesn’t agree. Yes, he guards her jealously, but it’s her choice whether to accept him in the end. They’re at each other’s mercy.
He’s oddly quiet at breakfast, though, despite Rose’s many attempts to draw him into conversation.
“How are repairs coming along?” she asks, refilling his cup from Oljin’s teapot. Oljin’s skin turns dark gray as he watches his precious nomo disappearing.
Lyro shrugs, poking at his kwasa cake like a picky toddler.
