Lena
I’m having a good dream, a dream of being home. Of sitting curled up on our thrift-store couch with the GRE study guide, taking the practice test. I know it’s a dream because in real life, I already took the test and scored well. Got into the vet school at the university in our city.
When we were abducted, Ada and I had just moved apartments to be closer to campus. The new apartment was shittier than our old one, smaller and in worse condition, which was a little offensive since it cost more. But in the dream, it’s a different unit, a nicer one, even though the couch is our funky someone-else’s-basement couch with the duct-tape patch on the side where someone-else’s-cat had shredded the upholstery.
It's so comfy. I put down the study guide and stretch out on the couch, say something out loud to Ada in the other room about how whoever donated it to the thrift store was missing out. It feels so comforting, like a hug. I want to sink between the cushions like someone’s lost change and just stay there.
But then the couch groans my name. And I wake up. And realize immediately that it isn’t the couch groaning. It’s my alien bedmate, who is anything but comfortable.
Can’t see him behind me, but I can hear him, his quick breaths and low grunts. I can feel him, too, a slight rhythmic shake that occasionally bumps my hip.
“Are you jerking off?” I blurt out, shocked. Maybe I shouldn’t be. I know a lot of human guys need daily “maintenance.” I’m just surprised he’d do it with me right here. Then again, he’s stuck with me 24/7 right now, so there’s no way for him to do it privately.
Lyro doesn’t say anything, justhissesat me. And he doesn’t stop, either. If anything, his motions grow more frantic. I guess he was trying not to wake me up before, and now he doesn’t care.
“Frix,” he swears, desperation etched in his voice. My pussy gives an answering pulse, and suddenly I’m aware of the heat building between my legs.
It’s kind of sexy to hear him getting off right next to me. I hope it means he’s attracted to me, and someday we can have the kind of relationship that Rose and Oljin have, with their flirty banter and midday “naps.” I’d love to have that energy in a relationship, once he gets over the shock of having a mate.
I flip over to see him, and he looks even hotter than he sounds. His muted camouflage is mottled with red and pink and lavender, like a bouquet of roses. He bares his pointed teeth at me, and the tendons in his neck stand out as he strokes his cock through the open side of his loose trousers.
I can only see the outline of it when he bucks his hips against his fist, but I’m salivating over its thick dimensions. Makes me want to cram my hands down my sleep shorts and match his movements.
“Need help?” I ask, hands itching to touch him. I can feel my nipples tightening at the prospect. He just grunts, sounding angry, which I take a no. Even his pissed-off sounds turn me on. This must be a mate-bond thing, but I’m not sorry about it. “Offer’s open if you change your mind.”
Damn, I hope he changes his mind, because I amsweating. I probably should turn over to give him privacy the same way he turned his back in the cleansing unit, but I can’t look away. Andhe doesn’t seem to mind. I’m sure he would say something if he did, because he’s never shy about sharing his opinions.
He’s looking at me, too, I realize. Watching me watch him. And from the way he catches his lower lip in his teeth, he likes it.
If he’s going to do it right in front of me, I might as well, too. I slide one hand down my belly, dipping under the elastic of my pajamas and undies to find my clit. It’s already slippery and swollen, so I rub the side of it with one finger, pretending it’s the head of his cock bumping up against it.
Doesn’t take long to get me buzzing. I can feel the flush creeping all over my body. I’m probably beet red by now, but so is he. I’m close, so close that my toes curl and my back arches. Lyro’s close, too, his motions more and more erratic. I don’t want to come until he does.
“Show me,” I gasp. His forearm flexes as he grips his cock harder, and his motions slow. He knows what I’m asking, and he’s thinking about it. “Please, I want to see it.”
“Greedy little terrakin,” he growls. “It isn’t enough for you to ruin my life? You want to ruin this, too?”
My brain is so horny, I don’t know how to answer, so I just say, “Yeah.”
He curses again and pulls out his cock. God, it’s gorgeous. Pale purple, deepening to dark purple at the base, with fat veins crawling up it. I bet it would feelsogood to sit on it. He’s working it hard now, clearly furious about the whole situation.
Fuck, this is going to be embarrassing in the morning, but that future-shame just adds to the intensity of the moment. It’s so bad, which makes it so good, and that naughty feeling pushes me over the edge of the cliff. I clamp my thighs around my hand as I come to keep it in place, keep the pressure on while I shake and whine my way through it. My teeth clench so hard, trying to keep it together, my jaw aches.
I’m so lost in the moment that when Lyro rasps a guttural sound, I’m only vaguely aware that he’s going to come, too. I yank up my PJ top just in time for him to finish all over my belly in hot splatters. The smell of bright citrus blooms, and my mouth waters.
It would be weird to taste it, right? When I wasn’t even supposed to know he was jerking off?
It’s too late now. The bubble of sexy urgency has popped, and now we’re in the sticky awkward phrase, both of us avoiding eye contact as I pull my hand out of my shorts and he puts his cock back in his pants. He looks at his hand, and then, with a frown, wipes it on me!
“I’ll get something to clean up,” I say, giggling. But when I move to roll out of bed, he grabs my arm, stopping me.
“Leave it.” He yanks my shirt down, effectively gluing the fabric to my skin with his cooling come. And then he matter-of-factly pulls me into his body, tucking my head under his chin and clamping his arms around me so I can’t move. I can barely breathe, actually.
“Should we maybe—” I start to say, but he shushes me.
“Sleep,” he orders.
“Kiss me first,” I whisper into the dark curve of his neck. “Just one.”
