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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 - 35. Chapter 35

Garjah cursed, his arms squeezing me so tight it was hard to draw a breath. I pulsed around his length, and he ground against me. Rumbling, he softened, leaning us to one side and then curling around me. I stilled and the throbbing inside me was for almost like being massaged by a water shower wand. I had come all over Garjah’s hand, the white fluid coating thick green fingers.

He rubbed it into my belly, holding me to him. I lost the ability to speak, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. Garjah’s chest vibrated against my back. He was more vocal, expressing pleasure more than I expected… at least I hoped it felt good. “Okay?” I finally gasped when my orgasm released its grip on me, and the tiny aftershocks of pleasure eased.

“You feel so good,” he slurred out. “Tight. Pulses.”

The way he was shooting inside me felt good too, almost soothing. I relaxed against him, laying my head on his arm and letting our legs twine together. I knew from my reading that this time, the exchange of our fluids, would affirm the bond and mingle our scents.

His was a metallic tang that lingered in my nostrils and thick on my tongue. A holdover from older times when they lived more primitive lives, but one that would calm Garjah’s territorial instincts.

Accustomed to quick releases before leaving for separate quarters, this was different. I didn’t do a lot of physical contact, but I craved it from him. I rubbed my cheek against his arm again as he finally stilled, heaving out a deep breath. “Essell.”

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh. Fine.” More than. “I like this.” I liked the difference in our sizes, how he curled around me. I enjoyed the pebbled roughness of his skin gently abrading mine. And the extra set of hands? Well… they came in handy. I chuckled.

“What?”

I shook my head. “Stupid thoughts.” The metal band around his upper arm brushed against my temple. “What are these?” I hadn’t seen them on anyone else.

“Arm bands.”

Seriously? I frowned and looked over my shoulder. “I know that.”

The smirk on his face faded when my muscles tightened as I continued to glare at him. “You will start something your body cannot finish.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Want to bet?”

 

Later, picking at the food Garjah had brought, he said completely at random, “They are made of oslium. It was a gift from the Kardoval, for bravery on a mission.”

I stopped with a bite halfway to my lips, my mouth wide open. “Those are made of oslium?”

He nodded.

“That’s… that’s crazy. Those must be worth a fortune.”

“Only someone who has made a great sacrifice or performed a supreme act of bravery is gifted thus.” He sounded proud.

“What did you do?” I was sure it was something big. Something brave. Noble. Honorable. He was all of those things.

And I was right. He told me the whole tale as we ate, explaining about the planet they’d been on, the ship he’d crewed on, how they’d lost over half before he could get everyone on board and safe.

“How did you survive that without scars?” Being gored by an animal with horns the length he indicated should have at least left a mark. I’d spent enough time staring at his naked chest to know there wasn’t any.

“Timok. He wasn’t head of medical at that point, but he was good at his job.”

He was. I’d spent a lot of time with him, and he was equal parts scientist and doctor. His mind was highly developed, and that challenged my belief that their genetic memory would hamper their flexibility with learning new things. He frequently showed me information they’d sieved from the galactic databases, asking me to verify his understanding.

Sometimes I didn’t even know what the data meant. So yeah… it was safe to say he was more than good at what he did on the ship.

His personality left something to be desired, especially since speaking his name seemed to draw his attention.

“What do you need?” Garjah asked, after he answered the alert and opened the door.

“I think you meant to say why are you bothering us?” I didn’t stand up, just cast a glare at the smirking, green-skinned alien waving two hands full of medical equipment at me from the doorway.

“Tests. I gave you more than enough time. Garjah, let me by. You know he’s safe with me, and I need to make sure that introduction of your DNA has not done anything to his body.”

I jumped up. “What? I thought it was safe.”

“Of course. Plenty of cross-species coupling is safe. But you have started a mutation that has no precedence. Tests are prudent.”

Garjah grumbled but moved when Timok pushed him out of the way. Then he stood, feet apart, arms crossed, and glowered just like he had when I first met him.

That was not helping. The room reeked of our scent, the bunk was a tangled mess of coverings and his pillow was actually on my chair; the hard surfaces were not made for anyone who was sore after… well, after what I didn’t want Timok to think about what we were doing just a little while before.

The heat engulfed me as he got closer and wrinkled his nose. “Uniquely scented,” he said. “And that coloring.” He glanced over his shoulder at Garjah. “Good thing you claimed him now before we leave.”

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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