“Make love to me,” she murmurs, her fingers sliding up my chest. She stands on her toes and offers her sweet mouth to me.
I tangle my clawed fingers in her glossy hair and angle her nog so that I may have the best access to her pouty lips. She parts her pink, plump lips. Another growl escapes me as my mouth captures hers. The moment my forked tongue dives into her, I’m blissed out. She intoxicates me like the UV rays I’d become addicted to but she doesn’t harm me. No, my little alien nourishes me. She fills voids that were hollow for so long. She brings life to parts I had long thought dead.
My tongue slides along her dulled teeth and dances with her short stubby tongue. Her eagerness matches my own. Each of us so desperately needs the other. Between us, my cock seeps at the crown, my seed useless now that she is with child. But I still crave to fill her up with it. I love watching the milky essence leak out of her red, swollen cunt after we’ve mated. It’s fascinating and fulfilling.
“I need you right now, Brec,” she whimpers. “Right now.”
I grab a handful of her round rump with one hand and lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist as she all but climbs me. Her fingers latch around the back of my neck, her lips never breaking from mine. With my free hand, I rub the crown of my dripping cock against her soaked center. She cries out, the sound unlike any I’ve ever heard. So filled with need and longing.
I walk with her to the nearest wall and press her back against it. Slowly, I push into her tight heat, relishing the way she throws her nog back, breaks our kiss, and bellows my name. With a growl, I slam into her. Pleasure explodes around me. Having her seated on my cock is the best feeling in this dead and broken world. She brings life to this planet. She brings life to me.
A sharp metallic scent fills the air, and it’s then I realize my claws have punctured her fleshy bottom. Panic ripples through me but she finds her orgasm with an intense shudder. Her cunt grips my cock so hard, I forget about everything aside from claiming my female. My seed spills from me, hot and violent, as I thrust wildly into her. I can sense the toxica rendering her useless because she relaxes completely in my arms.
“Brecccaaannnn,” she whispers, drawing out my name.
“I have you, little alien. You’re protected. I will not hurt you.” I cringe knowing I’ve drawn her blood, but I don’t speak of these things since she seems satisfied.
Carrying her over to our bed, I make sure to lick and suck on her tongue along the way. She lets out a pleased groan when I sit on the bed and then pull her against me as I lie down. I’ve learned she prefers to be the one on top after our lovemaking moments, as she calls them.
“My heart aches for you nonstop, mortania,” I tell her, my voice low and full of emotion for this female. “Nonstop.”
A tear leaks from the corner of her eyes and I crave to lick it. Perhaps later.
“Love,” she croaks.
I stroke her hair. “Love?”
“That is love,” she murmurs. I can feel her tiny palm that’s splayed on my chest begin to lift.
“This is love,” I agree, sliding my hand beneath hers.
She curls her dainty fingers between mine and sighs. “Mine. You’re mine.”
I inhale her scent, which is no longer so potent, and I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that we’ve finally given in to what we’ve been fighting the past few solars. “Yours,” I agree. “You’re mine too.”
“Always.”
I stand at the podium with Draven to my left and Aria to my right. As lieutenant commander, it’s Draven’s duty to assist in the ceremonies when we promote our morts to positions they are best suited for. This is something that didn’t come from any manuals that existed before us or stories passed down from our parents. This is something I created to improve morale among my morts. It gives them a sense of purpose and pride. In our decimated world, we need all the help we can get, finding something to look forward to each solar.
Scanning the command center, I’m pleased to see the members of our faction dressed in their fanciest attire. Minnasuits adorned with precious stones pulled from the depths of the underground wells, and zuta-metals stamped and molded by Oz. Beautiful, shiny pieces sewn onto the suits to make them more attractive. The only one we’re missing is Hadrian, and another thump of pride thunders in my chest. He is no longer an apprentice. For now, he will serve as Madam Commander’s Hand. His strength and knowledge of this world will be useful to her as she makes decisions regarding her people. It is a great honor for him, and soon we will have a ceremony naming him as well.