This is wrong.
He’s not a female.
But there are no females anymore. We can’t reproduce even if we wanted to.
His forked tongue slides out, tasting my flesh near my ear. He doesn’t say a word and I’m afraid to move. I don’t want this moment to end. When I do move, it’s to gently run my fingers through his long hair. My claws rake against his scalp in a claiming way.
I want him.
I want him so rekking bad.
His hand slides down over my minnasuit. A sharp breath exhales from me when he cups my erection. Hot breath tickles my ear.
“I want to make you feel good,” he breathes.
I groan at his words. “I…I…”
“Tell me what you want, Jare.”
My mouth seeks his. It feels natural. Like if I taste him, it’ll make all this more real. His lips are warm and soft against mine. We rub our lips together, both of us liking the contact.
“I want you,” I murmur.
His forked tongue licks along my bottom lip and I growl. I like the way he tastes. Like forbidden secrets and an unbreakable bond. He rubs on my cock, making me hiss in pleasure.
“W-We can’t…” I trail off.
“Can’t what?” he groans, nipping at my bottom lip. “What can’t we do, Jare?”
“Mate,” I utter, bitter tears burning in my eyes.
“Are you sure?” he challenges. “You could put this”—he squeezes my cock—“anywhere you can make it fit in my body.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to argue his words. His mouth devours mine. I thrust my hips up, needing more from him. He pulls away to look down at me, fire brimming in his dark eyes. As he slides down my body, I gape at him in wonder. With hasty movements, he works at my minnasuit and manages to slide it down my thighs, freeing my cock that seeps with a tease of my seed.
“It’ll fit here,” he murmurs, running his forked tongue along the underside of my shaft. Pleasure crawls up my spine and feels as though it’s melting my sub-bones.
“I want it there,” I agree, rocking my hips up.
His full lips wrap around my crown and my eyes roll back. So many times I’ve brought myself to climax with my hand. Never had I imagined someone else could bring me such pleasure. A loud hiss escapes me when he slides down my length, the tip of my cock begging for entry in his throat.
“Sayer,” I whisper. “This feels so rekking good.”
He smiles around my cock, intensifying his efforts. When I feel my seed about to spill, I groan and grip his hair tight, keeping him right where I need him. A slurping sound echoes in the room and then he’s swallowing down my spill. Because of the toxica in my seed, he slumps off to the side, momentarily paralyzed. I run my fingers through his hair, silently praising him for his efforts.
I should feel ashamed or worried about what we’ve done, but I feel the opposite. I crave more.
“I want to taste you, too,” I say when he stirs, regaining his movement.
Emotion shines in his eyes as we reverse roles and embark on a forbidden journey together.
“Jareth.”
The deep timbre doesn’t fit Sayer and I snap my attention to find Breccan staring at me with a worried expression.
“Everything okay?” he asks, yawning, his hair messy from sleep.
I rub at the back of my neck and frown. But it’s not okay. The mort I’ve loved for many revolutions has been crazed by this pregnancy. I was jealous that Grace was taking something from me. Crushed even. Until…
Rekk, I’m losing him.
I’m losing us.
I can’t explain what I feel right now.
“Let’s take a walk. Somewhere private.” Breccan ushers me down the corridor to the stairwell. We take the passage down past the reform cells to the underground cells.
It’s been ages since I’ve come down here. It’s cold and echoes. Hadrian tends to love it down here, hence why I don’t come down here much. He’s a mortling trapped in a mort’s body. Winds me up every time. Thankfully, he’s not here.
Breccan squats by the shimmering blue-green water and runs his fingertips through it, creating a ripple. I stand beside him and look at the giant pool that continues to provide us with pure water deep from within the planet’s core. Something swims by and I take interest that we’re finally growing yaxout. It only took five revolutions for those eggs to finally hatch.
“How are Emery and the mortyoung?” I ask, not quite brave enough to discuss what I really want to.
Breccan smiles. “Calix is a proud father to his new son. The mother is doing well. They named him Hophalix. He’s not as big as my Sokko was at birth and he’s quieter too, but he watches with an intelligence that reminds me of Calix.” He rubs at his neck. “His hair is strange, though. Yellow like his mother.”