I tug my shirt over my head, the fabric catching slightly, static brushing across my ribs. I feel the cool air hit my skin and watch him watch me. Not once does he avert his gaze. And not once does it feel invasive.
Just… attentive.
Present.
I toe off my boots, one at a time, slow. Then the pants, unbuttoned with steady fingers. I step out of them like I’m shedding old armor. Every movement is a question.
Will you follow?
Roja does. The moment my foot touches the floor, he’s there, silent but steady. His jacket falls behind him with a whisper of leather and dust, his breath quickening. Under the low light of the single hanging bulb, his green-scaled skin gleams, the ridges of old scars casting shadows. He’s massive—nearly double my size—but the way he moves is cautious, like he’s afraid of startling me. Of breaking the moment.
When he reaches for me, I don’t flinch. His hands land at my hips—not grabbing, not groping—just resting, like he’s listening to my skin. “Okay?” he asks, voice low and guttural.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He touches my face with one hand, fingers rough from years of wielding plasma torches and blades, and brushes a thumb along my cheekbone. “You’re shaking.”
“I want this.”
His mouth claims mine—not gently, but not harshly either. His kiss is full of tension, heat, restraint ready to snap. I grab the hem of his shirt, dragging it over the planes of his body—muscleover bone, scaled and hot like a living furnace. There’s a scar across his left pectoral, pale and smooth against the dark green, and I kiss it without hesitation.
He growls low in his throat and lifts me like I weigh nothing. My back meets the wall—cold, sudden—but it disappears in the warmth of his body. His arms bracket me there, firm and wide, his claws scratching softly against the metal behind my shoulders.
I gasp as his mouth finds my neck, biting softly, soothing with his tongue. My legs wrap around his waist, instinctive, needy. He presses forward, hips grinding, and I feel the thick length of his cock press against my center, still trapped behind the loose fabric of his work pants.
“Do you know what you do to me?” he whispers.
“Show me.”
He carries me to the bed, lays me down like something sacred. Then he stands to strip. One button, then another. His pants fall, and he steps out of them without a word.
Gods.
His cock is enormous, ridged in ways that are utterly alien—thicker at the base, veined along the length, and flushed with a deep jade hue. My pussy clenches just looking at him. He watches me watch him, eyes glowing red with something primal.
I open my thighs in invitation, and he kneels between them. “Touch me first,” I say. “I want your hands on me.”
His claws trail up my calves, along my thighs, until he reaches the apex. Then he strokes his fingers through my folds, groaning at the wetness he finds.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re so ready.”
“For you. Only you.”
He lowers his mouth, tongue thick and hot. It feels like nothing I’ve ever known—more muscle, more heat, more intent.He licks me slowly, carefully, learning my reactions. When he flicks over my clit, my back arches and a whimper escapes.
He grips my thighs, spreading me wider, devouring me like he’s starving.
“Roja—” I pant. “Please, please?—”
He doesn’t stop until I shatter. My orgasm hits hard, a wash of light and heat that leaves me gasping, shaking. Only then does he rise, his cock glistening with precum, eyes locked on mine.
“Let me inside,” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Now.”
He lines himself up, pressing against my entrance. I brace, but he goes slow, so slow. Inch by inch, he fills me. The stretch burns, but it’s exquisite. I feel every ridge, every pulse of his cock.
“You’re so tight,” he groans.
