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I’ve spent plenty of time with the Skoropi, but I’ve only ever heard about their cocks from Bekah. Taraven’s is long and dark turquoise, lined with a glowing fringe on top, with soft-looking bristles at the tip. The second appendage—the ‘tickler,’ as Bekah so eloquently calls it—is shorter, but just as rigid, this one covered completely in those strange bristles.
I’m not scared of anything, or I might be a little intimidated.
I bend and crawl over him, even the scrape of his scales against my inner thighs making my head spin. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps, while Taraven’s are ragged and uneven. His hands rise with a purpose, and I anticipate the touch, grunting in disappointment when he stops short of touching me.
“I want…” he starts.
His eyes dart to my bra. I don’t think he has a word for it.
I reach behind me to unclasp it, rolling my shoulders and tossing it away. Taraven’s hands—his claws, which he’s kept out—graze my chest, then tweak my nipples. I groan, rolling my head back.
Of course he knows exactly where to touch; he’s been with human women before.
It makes me jealous, and I fucking hate that. So I remind myself that it doesn’t matter if he’s been with other women, if he fucking thinks Malix is pretty, if he used to sleep around and never wanted me. Right now, he’s pressed into the grass underme, betweenmy legs.I rock my hips against him, letting the head of his cock dip into my entrance, and he lets out a ragged breath.
“You’re so hot,” he growls, and I know he doesn’t mean it in the human way. “So wet…”
God, he’s fucking right. I’m incredibly wet, my pussy clenching of its own accord. My eyes flutter shut, the aurora shining through in tones of turquoise and violet, and it reminds me of Taraven’s scales.
His hands slide down my ribs to clasp my hips, his claws pinpoints in my flesh. I can feel him holding back, the tension held in every taut muscle.
I just need to scratch an itch, I tell myself.
I sink down, taking him inside me, spreading my legs wide. I don’t look at him, just feeling how full he makes me, how his claws dig in to lodge me in place. Taraven unleashes a guttural sound, cursing in his own language in such a way that my translator doesn’t catch it.
I slide my hands back into my hair, massaging my scalp and tugging on my curls. I feel high, my heart pounding, my mind soaring, euphoria surging through me. And when I sink down deeper, the damn tickler slots into place just inside my ass, providing an exquisite level of pleasure.
I move my hips, never looking at Taraven as I start riding him hard and fast. I don’t have to look at him to know exactly what expression he has on his face—flushed dark turquoise, his lips parted, his eyes spinning with pink light. I try to slow my pace, but Taraven hisses out a breath.
He quickens his pace; something rustles in the grass beside us.
His tail wraps around my throat from behind.
His claws dig into my skin hard enough to draw blood, and his tail gently chokes me, guides me, moves me at a punishing pace. His cool scales are the only thing keeping me from spontaneously combusting—otherwise, I feel like I might just catch on fire. I’m filled in both holes, Taraven holding me upright and positioning me so he can drive further, harder.
The weight of him, the feeling of those barbs inside…I’m right on the brink. I press my hands to Taraven’s chest and stroke his scales, running my thumbs over smooth turquoise steel. The sensation isn’t enough to stop my orgasm, and I let it happen.
I’ve been too pent up.
My release roars through me, and I almost scream as my body spasms with desire. Taraven’s right hand suddenly darts up to clap over my mouth. He bumps my translator in the process, and then I hear his voice without the sterile translation over it.
“Xik xela…” he purrs. “Dih droxelai…feyarik xela…”
The sound of his voice, deep and droning, brings another orgasm to the forefront. I moan into his palm, dragging my tongue across it and tasting salt. Taraven grips my chin with his claws as if he can barely keep himself together, rocking his hips up, deeper, harder…
Taraven rolls us, driving into me and scooping me up to rest on his thighs as he kneels in the grass. It takes him farther, his tickler pressing deeper in my ass. I clench my legs around his waist as he spreads me out in the soft grass of Azoth, his hands falling to my breasts, tweaking, twisting. There are so many things he could do to me—that I’ll beg him to do to keep the fear away on cold and lonely nights—but I just want to be fucked right now. Taraven’s hips collide with mine, reaching places I didn’t know could feel good.
He rolls his head back, his unruly hair flipping behind him, and then he thrusts deep and rocks forward. I feel his barbs expand slightly, the head of his cock flaring, and I look up to see his lips part. Another rush of pleasure goes through me—he’s doing something to me, deep inside—but I don’t care.
I collapse, losing all trace of the boundaries of my body, my mind. Reality itself seems to vanish, and it’s just Taraven and I here in this vast galaxy, his cock embedded inside, his tail still around my neck. I let my body melt into his as the orgasm shakes me, Taraven emptying himself as we moan into the void…
There’s someone else here, though, isn’t there?
Another presence, nagging at the edge of my mind. It’s my memory of this damn weapon, this damn war, reminding me that I can’t have nice things. It takes me down from my orgasm quick, and I thrust myself away from Taraven on instinct, our mingled fluids seeping between my thighs.
I meet his eyes, shame sweeping over me. This isn’t like me—I’ve never beenashamedof sex—but for some reason, I feel like we did something wrong. Taraven’s eyes go auburn, then purple, and his head snaps up to look at something just beyond Jaya.
“Malix?” Taraven says in confusion.
