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    Cia
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Ancalagon - 34. Chapter 34

Garjah knelt between my legs. I slowly pushed up on the bunk so I could pivot on a knee and then face away. My breath sawed in and out of my chest, and I moved almost as slow as I had when the gravity had pressed down on me. I gripped the top edge of the bunk with my arms, and balanced on my other forearms, lowering my torso toward the soft surface.

“Like this?” I murmured.

“Yes.” Garjah grunted the word. He leaned forward, tracing one hand over my back. “Your color is amazing. So pink.” He brought his other hand up and caressed my leg, stroking from my knee to my hip. “You’re so soft.”

If a shipmate from the Rinta had said that, I’d have a sharp retort and scrambled out of the bed. But my skin, compared to the pebbled armor covering most of Garjah’s muscles, was soft. It wasn’t an insult as a light-gravver, or from a security forces member to a geek researcher.

No, from the gleam in his eyes and the flare in his nostrils—and the fluid leaking in thick streams down his shaft—he loved my skin and lean muscles.

“I want you inside me.” I didn’t want him to mistake any signals. Their people didn’t quite follow human sexual practices, but it was very similar.

Garjah curled over me, one arm bracing next to my upper arms. The heat of his body radiated against my back. “Patience.”

Shaking my head, I groaned. Of course he would be like this. I’d been unable to resist touching him, going straight for his shaft, but he was touching me everywhere. One hand along my back, my legs, and the other caressing my chest. One of his thick fingers grazed my nipple, and I gasped, arching into the touch. “Sensitive,” I panted out.

“Yes, I like this.” Garjah rubbed the firm nub, then teased the other until both were hard and aching. I arched into the caresses, then his hand moving to my inner thigh distracted me. I spread them, giving in to the pressure. He rumbled his approval, vibrating against my back.

It was amazing, what he could do with that extra hand, and I was glad I could both hold myself up and hold onto the bed. Otherwise I might have collapsed the next second when I felt his shaft slide through my cleft. He wasn’t moving, his chest to my back, so it was his shaft moving again.

Caressing me, slicking my crease, sliding over the sensitive skin of my hole. I squeaked, then flushed at the silly sound, but his cock was touching me, and he was plucking both nipples with two hands, and one hand was now cupping my balls.

Overload didn’t cover it. I shuddered, sensation rocketing through me. I clenched my toes, my fingers, and panted in quick breaths. “Garjah, please.”

Tight to my stomach, my shaft throbbed with every rapid heartbeat. If he didn’t get inside me soon, this would be over for me before it even started.

“Pat—”

“If you say patience, I will jump off this bunk and go take a long shower.” It wasn’t like it was a water bath or shower, but I’d find a way to jerk off in there. It wouldn’t take long anyway.

It might have been a while for me.

“Timok said to take my time,” Garjah said.

“Timok can mind his own business.” I wiggled. “You have a similar anatomy. Just… I need a little more work. Take some of your slick, stretch my hole, and fuck me already.” I got a little bossy when I was horny. Or hungry. Or mad.

I was just bossy when I wasn’t lost in my own head. But stars above, I had been aroused most of the day, when I was about to die from embarrassment, and my balls ached. There was a need inside me that was growing exponentially as the scent of our combined arousal rose between us.

Garjah, blessedly, listened to both the words I said and didn’t say. He curled closer again, stroking both nipples gently now, and gently pressed against my entrance with one thick digit. Press, retreat, circle, press, circle…. I growled and pushed back, taking what I wanted.

“Ahh,” I sighed as he sank inside me finally.

“You are so soft.” Garjah stroked my inner walls, and I shuddered.

“Again, more.” I rocked, teaching him the rhythm I liked, demanding until I got two fingers. The burn was exquisite and took the edge of my desire to come. As soon as my muscles gave in and relaxed, I was demanding again. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Garjah’s voice was a deep rumble against my back. He stroked his sharp chin over my shoulder. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m ready. Now.” I rolled my hips. “Gonna feel so good.”

Two of his fingers were large and his shaft moved in ways a human’s dick just couldn’t. Wide but softer, flexible enough to stroke all around my sensitive channel, I cried out when he targeted my prostate. “You—”

“Yes, I know about that.” His voice was smug. He hadn’t touched it while he was stretching me.

“Sneaky alien.”

“Your alien.”

He was, and I was his. Despite being different, we fit together so good. And, stars be praised, but he was a quick study. That rhythm I’d used to impale myself on his fingers was turned against me. Garjah thrust and rocked, his breath coming in heaving gasps.

“Close,” I warned.

He pulled us up onto our knees, my back to his pebbled front. His muscles had no give, so I molded to him. I wrapped two arms around his neck and held onto his hard ass with the others. Not moving his hips, his cock stroked inside me to match the hand he wrapped around my shaft.

One stroke was all it took to set off an explosion of pleasure inside me.

Copyright © 2020 Cia; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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