She turns her nog and accepts a kiss from him. “Or,” she purrs as her hand grips my cock too, “I could help.”
With both their hands gripping me, I close my eyes and groan. My hips flex as I rut against them, chasing the feeling of pleasure. It doesn’t take long before they tug me right into bliss. A hiss escapes me when I reach climax, soaking both their hands with my seed. One day, I want to fill Grace up with my seed so that maybe the next mortling she bears might look like me.
“Your turn,” Grace says breathily as she turns her body toward Sayer.
I reach over her and grip the base of Sayer’s cock while she grips the upper half. Together, we bring our mate to his climax as well. I’d love nothing more than to strip Grace down and show her the same pleasure, but with my forked tongue.
“You next?” I tease.
“I may be down to get freaky with my guys, but a girl has to draw the line somewhere.”
Sayer climbs over us and saunters into the other room. I hear the water running and then he returns with a towel. He cleanses us both before crawling back into bed. We cuddle close to our female mate and shower her with kisses, caresses, and the occasional tickle. We may not be able to mate with her like we want, but it doesn’t mean we can’t love her every second of every solar.
“You two spoil me,” she says sleepily as she drifts off.
I frown when I think of sabrevipe meat when it’s been spoiled. It reeks and is no longer good to eat. The very thought of her rotting away makes me feel queasy.
“Spoil?” I ask, horror in my tone. “I’m so sorry. That sounds horrible.”
At this she snorts. “No, freak, spoil where I come from means to treat like a queen.”
These aliens and their strange terms for things.
“Good,” I say with a sigh of relief. “Then we’re going to keep on spoiling you.”
“Every solar,” Sayer agrees.
Sayer is the first to fall asleep, his soft snoring a rhythmic cadence that soothes me to my toes. Then, Grace drifts off, a smile on her pretty face. I stare at them both—my mates—overcome with love and happiness.
In our world, so many things are uncertain.
Our next meal. The environment. Predators. Aliens.
But not this.
Love is the only thing around here that makes any sense.
Epilogue
Hadrian
I was a happy mort.
Playful. Fun. Adventurous.
Until I saw my first alien female.
The beating heart inside my chest thumped hard—so hard I worried I’d contracted a case of The Rades—when I looked at her soft, pale skin and her plump pink lips. I’d grown warm all over my body when I heard her voice. And when she spoke to me, I was completely enamored.
I would do anything for her.
Rekking anything.
Problem is, she’s not mine. No matter how much I want her to be, she’ll always belong to the mort who I think of as a father. He claimed her as if my heart that beat only for her didn’t matter.
And she claimed him too.
They have a mortling together now.
I press my clawed fingers to my chest where the ache won’t go away. It just burns each solar, hotter and more fierce. When Breccan told me I’d be leaving on this mission with Theron, I’d been furious. It took everything in me not to rage at him. I’m normally pretty in control of my emotions, but a few of my sub-bones popped upon his order, giving away my anger.
He knows.
I’ve teased him that if he ever goes to The Eternals, I will step in his place. But it’s truth. Some solars, I hate that I imagine a time when he’s gone and I must be her mate. It’s not that I wish Breccan gone, it’s that I wish Aria were mine.
Simply thinking her name has a lump of pain growing in my chest.
“Who kicked your rogcow?” Theron asks, sauntering into the control room of the Mayvina.
I snort and stare out at the clouds beyond the glass. We’re traveling just inside Mortuus’s atmosphere, above the raging geostorms. Magnastrikes light up the red clouds below us. It’s peaceful up here. I’d worried I’d feel trapped or contained, but instead I can relax some.
In the facility, I was trapped.
It was worse than the time Breccan stuck me in a reform cell for two solars as punishment when I went swimming in the underground wells. I’d thought because I was nearly as tall as him I could knock him over and exert my strength. He quickly subdued me and locked me in there to “cool my rekking nog off.” Back then, only a few revolutions ago, I hated every horrible second while behind those bars.
But nothing is as bad as being held in a building, forced to watch everyone around you fall in love, mate, and have mortlings. Worse yet, watch the one you love happy with her family.