"Disrespectful?"
Her grin. "Comprehensively."
The shirt hits the mat. Her jumpsuit has magnetic seals that release collar to hip in one smooth motion. She modified these. No standard OOPS jumpsuit opens this efficiently.
"Did you adjust these seals?"
"I optimise systems." She's in her underthings, against the wall, legs wrapping my waist. "That shirt was a design flaw. Too tight."
"You said you liked it tight."
"I like it on the floor faster."
My mouth finds her throat, the claiming mark, and the dual sensation sends a cascade through both our nervous systems. The heat where our bodies press together is extraordinary. Cool wall behind her, my furnace-heat in front, the pressure of being held up by someone whose strength she trusts completely.
"Down," she says. "I want your mouth on me."
The command sends a pulse of opalescent color through my markings. I lower her to her feet, drop to my knees. Her hands tangle in my hair, between my horns, and the proximity to the bonding points sends aftershocks through the connection. Not full soul-contact. Enough to make every nerve pay attention.
"Every time," she breathes as my mouth finds her, tongue working the patterns I've been refining since the canyon. "Every time I think I've mapped the mechanism, you find a new—oh."
New angle. New pressure. The bioresponsive jade patterns on my tongue reading her responses in real time, mapping pleasure with a precision that improves with every encounter. I feel her building, the climb arriving in my own body as echoed sensation, and the knowledge of exactly what she needs makes me more precise with each stroke.
Her hips rock against my face. The feedback loop ignites. Her pleasure feeding my arousal feeding her pleasure, the cycle accelerating, and my hands grip her thighs to keep her upright because her legs are giving.
"Don't stop— right there— the vibration—"
I increase the frequency. Her fingers pull my hair. Her body clenches, and the orgasm hits me from both sides: the sharp, climbing peak from her and the fierce satisfaction of feeling her come apart on my tongue.
She shudders against the wall. Her cry bounces off the gym ceiling. I work her through it until she's oversensitive and pushing at my shoulders, gasping between sounds that might be laughter.
"Getuphere."
I rise, and her hands are already at my waistband. When she wraps around me, the contact doubles and my hips jerk. She's learned things about Varkaani biology that no xenobiology textbook covers, and she applies them with the focused precision of an engineer running live tests on a system she's studied in theory.
"I want to taste you," she says, and pushes me backward toward the bench.
The directness. Theconfidence. Not the woman who blushed during the truth fruit conversation. The woman who bonded me at oh-three-forty-seven with both hands and has spent every encounter since discovering exactly how much power she has over my body.
She pushes me down onto the bench. Takes me in her hand, then her mouth, and the wet heat and pressure and the bond doubling every sensation makes my vision fracture.
"Krilly—" My hand tangles in her hair. Not forcing. Trembling with the effort of holding still while she takes me deeper. "If you continue— I'm not going to—"
She pulls back. Eyes dark. Mouth swollen. "Good. I want you inside me before we break anything."
"Before?"
"Optimistic phrasing."
She straddles me on the bench. Knees bracketing my hips, hands braced on my shoulders. When she sinks down, the sound we both make is the bond's doing: I feel the stretch and fullness as echoed sensation while she feels the gripping heat echoed back, and the dual feedback makes us both freeze while our nervous systems recalibrate to processing pleasure from two bodies simultaneously.
"Oh." Her voice wrecked. "The bond— I can feel what you feel when I—"
"Everything." My hands find her hips. Not directing. Holding on. "From both sides. Every time."
She starts to move. Confident. Deliberate. The rhythm entirely hers, each stroke landing precisely where she wants it, and the bond carries her climbing pleasure into my chest where it layers over my own until the distinction between her body and mine dissolves.
"You're so deep like this." She braces harder on my shoulders, changes her angle fractionally, and the shift makes both of us groan. "Can feel you everywhere— the ridges—"
