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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.

Ancalagon - 72. Chapter 72

The dark green markings on his body framed his face and graced his neck and shoulders. Some curved down across his chest and others curled over his belly and hips. I reached up and touched the edge of one over his hip where it pointed straight toward his straining shaft.

That bobbed, the gravity pulling it down after the muscles in Garjah’s abdomen rippled at my touch. He pulled in a quick breath and shuffled closer. I closed my hand around his shaft, feeling the supple softness around the rock hard core.

Garjah growled and froze.

“Is the door sealed?”


“Bouncer asleep?”


“Then come here.” Scooting back and widening my legs, I pulled his willing body down between my knees. “I need you.” I needed this closeness, to know we were both here and safe. My anxiety was churning a storm inside me, and only his touch could calm it.

We somehow made it work, bodies tangled on the small bunk. Garjah wedged between my legs and I arched into him. He loomed over me, pushed up on his lower elbows, and stared down intently into my eyes. He cupped my cheek with one hand and carded hair away from my eyes with the other. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m going to keep us both safe.”

I glanced away. I hadn’t wanted him to see my fear, hoping to distract him with my need and his. I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I didn’t want to talk about it right then. “I know.” I curved one leg over his hip and pulled him closer, rubbing over shafts together.

He stroked my cheek, pulling my wandering gaze back to him. I stared into his eyes, unable to look away. “We will be okay.”

“Okay,” I said breathlessly. I licked my lips, and his gaze finally left mine to follow its path. He rumbled and the vibration passed from his chest to mine. The swirl in my stomach moved lower and I inhaled a sharp breath and let it out in a breathy moan.

“You’re mine,” Garjah ground out. He leaned down and licked my lips until I parted them. He staked his claim with each stroke inside my mouth, the kiss a fierce contrast to the gentle hold he still had on my cheek and the constant stroke of his fingers through my hair.

Our chests were heaving for air as we gasped in deep breaths after breaking apart. His salty scent filled my nostrils, and I stroked my face along his neck and laid a row of kisses across his shoulder. “You taste good,” I said huskily. I wanted to touch other parts of him, taste him.

I squirmed under him. “Up,” I demanded, two hands on his ass.

“Oh.” He crawled up the tiny bunk, his outside knee almost falling off. He caught himself, and I joined him in laughing.

“Careful, don’t want to fall off and break anything.” I reached up and palmed his shaft, letting it play through my hand. “That would be a shame.”

“Uh-huh.” The sound came out strangled, the agreement clear but the words garbled. Garjah’s eyes were half-lidded as he knelt with his knees on either side of my shoulders.

His scent was stronger here. I leaned up, nuzzling his hanging balls, then sucked one into my mouth. “Essell,” he gasped.

I chuckled wickedly, and he shuddered beneath the onslaught of my mouth and hands. I sucked, licked, and played until his legs trembled and his lower arms hung limp.

“Enough,” he finally gasped, pulling away.

“No,” I reached for him, not ready to give up the taste of him in my mouth. The bitterness of his precome layered with the salt of his skin and the unique scent that made Grajah so addictive.

“Yes. My turn.”

Garjah loved to tweak and play with my nipples, and they were standing up and tight in moments as he sucked and bit one and then the other. My cock was aching, my balls tight, and I couldn’t wait any longer. Squirming below him, I stretched for the lube I’d tucked under the pillow. “Please. In me. I need it.”

He had the slick on the fingers of one hand and me dancing on them in moments. The burn, the ache, and the pleasure hit in rapid-fire succession, and my body didn’t know what to do with it. I clutched his shoulders and buried my face in his neck.

Garjah rumbled his pleasure as I squirmed below him, pushing back into his touch as he added a third finger. I hissed, not able to move the way I needed to. I pushed on his chest. “I need to move.”

He pulled away slowly, and I regretted the loss, my ass empty. It didn’t stay that way long as soon as I rolled over onto my knees and arched to tempt him to touch me again. “So sexy,” Garjah rumbled.

“Horny,” I corrected. “Need you inside.”

I watched over my shoulder as he slicked himself up and then he was pushing in. It was too much and just right and not enough all at the same time. “Yes!”

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.
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I do like their method of relieving stress and tension.  Now the wait to find out what happens when they return and face the rebels and Kardoval.

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I love that they unabashedly seek physical comfort with one another. It affirms (and reaffirms) their bond and, given these new circumstances, it's what they both need.

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