“Molly,” he grunts and says something else, but it’s blotted out as I clench around his still furiously pumping cock.
Pleasure bursts out of me, compounds, then explodes again, overtaking my body with tremors.
At the sound of my orgasm, Draven shouts, rocking his hips into me several times before his body goes impossibly taut. Heat spurts inside of me, and there’s a moment of pure silence and peace before I realize what he meant about not being able to move.
“Shh,” he whispers as he pulls out of me to gather me close in his arms. Even though he still shudders in the aftershocks from his own orgasm, he’s solely focused on comforting me as my panicked gaze meets his. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. The paralyzing effect of the toxica will wear off shortly.”
There’s something to be said for basking in the moment after sharing intimacy. As the paralytic takes effect, I have no choice but to allow him to pet and soothe. His claws rake over my sensitized skin, and it’s almost as pleasurable as the act of sex itself.
By the time I’m able to move again, there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be than in Draven’s arms.
10
Draven
The winds are mild this solar, perfect for travel. Before we left, Galen attempted to show me on his radar where he believes a herd of rogcow are congregating, but I typically trust my instincts on such hunting missions.
My instinct tells me to head north, which is exactly where we’re going.
Molly and I take a brisk pace as we walk. We’re both wearing zu-gear over our minnasuits and carrying heavy packs on our backs. Mine is slightly heavier, but in order to have all the supplies we’ll need, it required her to carry some of the load. Pride thrums through me to see her carry the pack with ease.
“Are you okay, my mate?” I ask through the comms, stopping to look at her through the glass of her rebreather mask.
Her cheeks are a ruddy red that matches the dirt dusting up around us from her exertion. “I’m perfect.” She bites on her bottom lip in a way that has my minnasuit tightening around my cock.
Now is not the time for such activities.
Later, I promise myself.
She blinks with her one eye in the unusual way that I’ve come to enjoy about her. It’s a gesture that seems to agree with my unspoken thoughts.
“We must always keep our eyes on the horizon. Anything that moves could be a threat. I’ll eliminate any and all threats as long as you make me aware of them,” I say as we continue moving.
I’m headed for the Phyxer Mountains. The mountains themselves are many metalengths into the red, hazy clouds. We’re not going to travel up them, though. We’re going through the Gunteer Channel—a narrow passageway carved long ago right through the mountain.
Breccan would rekking have my nog on a stick if he knew I was not only planning this, but also taking my prized mate with me.
She is strong.
Together, we are capable.
Not to mention, it is the only way. My instinct tells me the rogcow have herded through the channel, seeking safety from our last massive geostorm. Their normal wandering places have been ravished by the weather.
I point ahead. “See that dark, red shadow?”
“Looks like someone painted a bar down the side of the mountain,” she says, her voice breathless.
My brows pinch together as I ascertain whether or not I should relieve her of her pack. We left at sunup this morning and now nearly a half solar has gone without our stopping to rest. I shouldn’t push such a rigorous pace, but Sokko’s life depends on our hastiness.
“It’s a crevasse. A trick of the eyes. When we get closer, you’ll see,” I tell her. “It’s about two metalengths straight through. The winds are incredibly strong, though. We’ll have to tie ourselves together, so we don’t get lost in the dust.” I take her gloved hand in mine. “You’re so brave, Molly mate.”
She rewards me with one of her bright smiles that shows all her white, useless teeth. So beautiful. We continue on. As we grow nearer to the Gunteer Channel, the thoughts become loud inside my head. I’m given glimpses of my mother, sending aching stabs into my heart. It makes me wonder about Molly’s little Willow. Only three revolutions old. I know how the little alien feels losing her mother.
“Do you ever think of going to try to find your Willow?” I ask, my voice husky and dry.
She tenses and shakes her nog. “I wouldn’t know where to begin, Draven.”
“I could help you if that is your wish.” I would do anything to make her happy. Even if it means leaving my family to search for hers. “I’m sure Theron would assist as well.”