Page 33 of The Planetary Systems Preservation Committee Decided We Needed a Nanny

“Fuck, I need this,” I groan, thrusting my hips when my body demands it.

Lora rattles affirmatively, and that almost takes me over the edge. The bite of his claws in the skin below my ass grounds me enough to stay on task, enjoying the pleasure he’s giving me.

“You do, my Ollie,” he agrees after unwrapping his tongue from my cock. “I will enjoy discovering the progress of your physical changes. I expect your body to be ready to accommodate mine after my next rest cycle.” His excitement seeps into my bones and his tongue licking my balls melts me.

I moan my yes-please-please-yes and relish the slide of his tongue over my perineum to my asshole. Fuck, he’s amazing. The skill he brings to human pleasure is undeniable, and I love this for myself as he licks me until I’m soft and begging to be filled. One finger feels good, but it’s not enough. “Please give me another. Please,” I beg, wiggling to show him I need more.

Lora complies with a happy noise and fills me with a second finger. It’s a lot, but not enough, and I realize as I beg him for more and he rubs up against my pleasure organ that this is what those nanobots have been doing this whole time. Giddiness replaces the desperate need for his fingers, and I groan, reaching down to stroke my cock.

Lora pushes my hand aside, taking me back into his mouth and working his fingers inside me. It’s all too much. The tonguing, the thrusting, and the fact that I am almost changed enough to take him, and I come, moaning his name, rocking on his fingers, and thrusting into his mouth.

Fuck. I really fucking needed to reconnect with my alien today. “Give me a minute to catch my breath, and then it’s my turn,” I pant out, excited to get my hands on him.

“Yes, my Ollie,” Lora murmurs, watching me recover with a very self-satisfied smirk.

“Lora?” I start as the post O-clarity hits rather hard.

“What is it, my Ollie?” he asks softly from where he’s resting his head on my tummy.

“Your pheromones didn’t turn me into a needy bottom bitch like they did before,” I point out, a little worried that either I’ve become immune and I definitely do not want to be, or he isn’t producing them because I don’t turn him on like I did before. My brain is an asshole to me sometimes, but we all have our character flaws, and this one is mine.

He kisses my belly before lifting his head and moving up my body until he’s hovering over me, face to face. “I enjoy your neediness very much, however, I wanted to know how you would experience sex without them, so I used an experimental suppressant. It will easily wash off if you prefer pheromone intoxication.”

“The experiment worked very well, but I also like that I know when you’re horny for me. It’s your body and your choice, but I’m happy with you intoxicating me whenever you’re horny.” I honestly never thought I would be saying that to a dude in earnest. I say it to Bee all the time, because hell yeah, I believe in choice, but this is new for me.

“It is also your body, ,” he adds, lowering his face to mine and delicately kissing me.

“My body is on board with pheromones,” I assure him before sinking into his kiss.

Lora’s tongue dances with mine for a little bit, then he lifts himself up onto his elbows, caging me with his body. “I will wash it off. I would enjoy sharing our orgasms when you suck on me.”

I grin, watching him lift himself to his feet. He hits the button on his vambrace, shooing his uniform away, and I watch his beautifully round booty walk to the bathroom for a shower. Once he’s out of sight, I thread my fingers together under my head, smiling like a dork in love as I wait. I’m so fucking lucky.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Bee walks into my apartment after her shift at the hospital. She’s fuming mad and covered in black goo from head to toe, and she points a furious finger at Lora with a wordless noise of disgust before stomping into my kitchen, pulling out a bottle of wine, and drinking it straight from the lip. Not a sip—my girl is gulping it down like she needs whatever’s at the bottom of that bottle inside her yesterday.

Lora and I were just cuddling on my couch watching some of the newest short form videos popping up since the end of the war on the InvasiveParasiticBodySnatchers. He thinks that human comedy is top tier among sentient species in the galaxy, and we’ve been giggling together for about an hour.

I set my phone aside, and Lora helps me to my feet by stabilizing my hips. “Whatcha covered in?” I ask my beautiful, bitchy cousin.

She pops the top of the bottle out of her mouth, glaring at me. “Oh this? This is alien vomit. Ask me why I’m covered in alien vomit, Ollie. Go ahead. Ask.”

The look she’s giving me makes me take a step back. “I—don’t think I want to know…”

Suddenly, she smiles at me, but it feels like she just stabbed me. “I’m going to tell you, cousin, because this vomit is all your fault.”

“I cannot possibly be responsible for alien vomit that definitely did not come from Lora,” I deny. I’m not about to take responsibility for something I have zero control over.

Bee’s smile stabs me again. “Did you know that some of our alien nannies are in fact allergic to unfiltered human blood? Did you know that it hurts like a bitch when some of our alien nannies need a bit of blood to trigger their healing mechanisms and bite the closest human for a fix? Did you know that alien allergic reactions are projectile vomiting? Did you know it’s not all sunshine and roses for the rest of us? We don’t all get our aliens and HEAs, too?? Did you know that, Ollie? Did you?”

I’m just not a nice enough person to take her rant of questions too seriously, and my laughter explodes out of me in breathless guffaws. I raise my hand in apology to my cousin's very real anger, but I can’t help it. “Oh my… fuck… Bee…” I gasp, laughing all the while. “Are you… an alien… allergen?” I exclaim, dying as I try to breathe.

Bee’s anger morphs slowly into laughter, and she nods, setting the mostly empty bottle on the counter. “Yeah, apparently I am.”

I burst out laughing again, imagining Bee, who is the picture of professionalism as an emergency care nurse, being shocked and horrified when the alien she’s trying to help vomits all over her only to learn that she’s the reason. “I’m sorry. I’m… sorry. It’s just…” I can’t finish and start laughing again.

Bee shakes her head at me, corking the wine. “What the fuck, Ollie?” she laughs.