Her gaze flickers, and I see those walls go back up. “Y-yeah, you’re right. I didn’t mean… It was just… silly…”
Now I understand what humans mean when they say their heart is breaking—this panging, hollow feeling in my chest, desperation and grief rolled into one.
Andromeda manages a brave nod. “Right, it’s better if we?—”
I pull her mouth against mine.
She gasps and moans into me. Our lips part, tongues sliding across each other.
Her warm, gentle hands settle on the back of my neck.
And they shatter my world.
I kiss her deep and hard, knowing in my bones and my chitin that when she leaves me, it will ruin me. But I don’t care. It will have been worth it for this. For her.
Andromeda finally breaks away with a pained moan. “O-okay, I really need you to milk me now…”
She whimpers, and I lean back to behold the steady stream of milk from her overfull breasts.
I kiss her forehead. “You know what you need to do.”
The resistance is entirely gone from her eyes. “Please, Sylvus…Please, they’re so heavy… they’re so full… Ineedyour mouth on me…”
I jolt, breath catching as my abdomen twitches. I had expected her to beg to be milked, beg for release. I’m so accustomed to using the milking machines that I—I had not, in my foolishness, evencontemplatedthat she might beg for?—
“Suck on me,please! Sylvus…”
The words snap my inner restraint, undamming a well of blind lust.
My mouth closes around her nipple, sucking hard.
Andromeda screams with overwhelm, with pleasure, with release.
That’s only the beginning. My legs weave beyond conscious control, binding her arms again and shifting her onto her back, spreading her legs.
She accepts every movement with moans of need and pleasure.
My torso presses between her legs, and my leg-like pedipalps tap along her stomach, tracing the softness of her curves, the perfection of her scent. They drool more clear fluid all the while.
I weave another sling for Andromeda’s breasts, holding the weight up off of her, positioning her nipples in front of my mouth so I can easily switch between them.
Her moans pitch higher as I tend to her neglected breast, relieving the worst of the pressure.
My body twitches forward, grinding against her cunt, and she tips her head back with an ecstatic cry.
My legs rub over each other, making my entire arachnid half vibrate. The deep, rumbling vibrations pulse to Andromeda’s core, and she climaxes again, sending her milk gushing down my throat.
My pedipalps slide over her stomach, savoring the plushness of her. Then they rub lower, massaging her mound.
I don’t know how to stop.
I don’t think I can.
Instinct has never overwhelmed me this thoroughly. I need to pry my lips away from her breast; I need to tell her what’s happening; I need to be something other than an animal lost to my lusts.
But the taste of her is overwhelming, that sweet cream running down my throat, filling my abdomen with heat.
Then again, I never should have doubted Andromeda.
