Page 11 of Topping Off the Alien

I’m wrecked. I’m floating. My brain is an empty room.

And with the aftershocks still rolling through me, I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, angle it down toward me and guide that broad, flushed head to my mouth.

He erupts immediately, ripping his mouth off my cock and letting out a growl, and the first pulse of his hot, thick release floods across my tongue. I pull him out of my mouth, coughing, my hand still stroking him through it.

He comes hard, painting across my chest and stomach, stripe after stripe while he shakes above me. The light from his marks washes over me, buzzing against my skin.

Then Sol’s arms give out, and he pitches sideways, catching himself just enough to land on the bed instead of on my ribcage.

For a while, the room is quiet except for the two of us hauling air.

Eventually the sweat and cum start cooling on me, and the current between us settles into that low hum again, satisfied and purring.

I stare up at the ceiling while my heart rate comes down by degrees. Finally, I turn my head and look at Sol. His eyes are closed, his face soft, one arm across my legs as if he wants to keep me there.

I look back at the ceiling.

What the hell did I just do?

6

Solverian

“Does it always feel like that?” Weston asks beside me.

We’re still naked in my bed, neither of us willing to move, not even to clean up.

I turn my head to look at him. He’s staring at the ceiling, one arm bent behind his head, his hair tousled in all directions.

“No,” I say. “Not always.”

I don’t tell him it has never felt like this. That what just passed between us has no equivalent in my experience, and that there’s so much energy coursing through me right now I feel almost drunk.

Weston turns his head and looks at me. “You’re really good at it, you know.”

“Good at what?”

“Giving head. Like, really good.” A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t want to imagine how many times you’ve done it.”

It’s my turn to look at the ceiling. “It was my first time.”

He goes still beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him staring at the side of my head.

When I turn to look at him again, his eyes are wide.

“That was your first time?”

I shrug one shoulder. “I’ve never been with a man before.”

“You’ve never—” He pushes himself up on one elbow. “Your first time? Ever?”

“The partners selected for me have always been female. I never bothered to ask for adjustments.”

He keeps staring. “But you prefer men?”

“I think so. Maybe I do.”

The flush on his face deepens, spreading down his throat. He swallows, and his gaze drops to my chest, then snaps back up.