Page 22 of Salvaged By the Alien Pirate

She tastes like starlight and danger, a combination that makes my blood sing. I keep my touch gentle, letting her set the pace, even as every instinct screams at me to claim her completely. Her hands explore my chest, tracing the tribal markings that pulse in time with my racing heart.

“Is this okay?” she whispers against my lips. “I don’t want to make it worse.”

I catch her face between my hands, making her meet my gaze. “You could never make this worse. Just being near you helps more than you know.” The admission costs me, but she deserves the truth. “I never expected to find my mate, Neon. This bond-sickness... it’s a part of who I am, not something you’re responsible for.”

She studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Show me,” she says softly. “Show me what you need.”

The permission in her words nearly undoes me. I kiss her again, deeper this time, pouring all my need and longing into the contact. She responds with equal fervor, her body pressing against mine as if seeking to eliminate any space between us.My wings tighten around us, cocooning us from everyone... and everything.

Her hands find my chest, fingers tracing the tribal markings that pulse with increasing intensity. Each touch sends electricity through my nervous system, pleasure and pain intertwined until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. The bond-sickness burns hotter, but now it’s threaded with something sweeter—possibility, hope, connection.

I trail kisses down her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. She gasps when I find a sensitive spot, her body arching into mine. The sound goes straight to my core, making my wings tremble with barely contained need.

“Wait,” she pants, pulling back slightly. Her enhanced eyes are dark with desire, but there’s still hesitation there. “I need to know... if we do this, if we complete the bond... what happens to my freedom? My identity?”

I force myself to focus through the haze of need. “The bond doesn’t change who you are, Neon. It adds to you, complements you. Like your neural implants—they enhance your natural abilities without erasing your humanity.”

She processes this, her analytical mind working even as her body responds to my touch. “And you’d let me keep working? Keep fighting the Eclipse?”

“I’d fight beside you,” I promise, meaning every word. “Your causes would become mine. Your battles, mine to share.”

Something softens in her expression. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against mine. “I’m not ready,” she whispers. “Not for everything. Not yet. But...” Her hands slide up my chest, making my breath catch. “Maybe we can find a middle ground? Something to help ease the bond-sickness without... without completing it fully?”

Relief and frustration war within me, but I understand. This is Neon—brilliant, cautious, fiercely independent. Taking thingsslowly is her way of maintaining control, of protecting herself. And despite the bond-sickness burning through me, I respect that.

“Middle ground,” I agree, my voice rough. “But Neon...” I catch her chin, making her meet my gaze. “You should know that anything we do will only intensify the connection between us. There’s no going backward from here.”

She swallows hard, but doesn’t look away. “I know. But I can’t watch you suffer when there might be something I can do to help.” Her hands resume their exploration of my chest, more purposeful now. “Just... tell me if it becomes too much?”

I nod, not trusting my voice as her touch sends fresh waves of heat through my system. She kisses me again, slower this time, with a deliberate intensity that makes my head spin. Her hands slip beneath my shirt, mapping the contours of my chest, learning what makes my breath catch and my wings quiver.

When she brushes against a particularly sensitive spot near my wing joints, I can’t suppress a groan. The sound seems to encourage her, and she grows bolder, her touches more confident. I let her explore, fighting the urge to take control, to claim her completely.

Time loses meaning as we trade kisses and careful touches, learning each other’s bodies with a mixture of curiosity and growing need. The bond-sickness still burns, but it’s different now—less painful, more like a sweet ache that intensifies with each point of contact between us.

Her fingers trace the lines of my markings, each touch sending jolts of electricity through my body. I can feel the heat of her hand, so close to where I need her most, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to grab her wrist and guide her to me. But I resist, letting her explore, even as sweat breaks out on my forehead, my body trembling with the effort of holding back.

She leans down, her lips brushing against my ear, her breath hot and ragged. “Is this okay?” she whispers, her fingers toying with the edge of my pants, driving me mad with anticipation.

I nod, my voice a hoarse croak. “Yes. But... be gentle, Neon. The bond-sickness... it makes this... painful. In the best and worst way.”

She pauses, her eyes searching mine, concern etched on her face. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, her voice soft, her fingers stilling.

I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing against her cheeks. “You’re not hurting me. It’s just... intense. And I want it, Neon. I want you. Even if it’s bittersweet, even if it’s painful, I want this. I want you.”

She bites her lip, considering, then nods, her eyes never leaving mine. She slides her hand lower, her fingers brushing against my cock, and I hiss, my hips jerking upwards, a shock of pleasure and pain coursing through me. She’s tentative at first, her touch light, almost teasing, as she explores my length, her fingers tracing the outline of me through the fabric of my pants.

“You’re... different,” she murmurs, her enhanced eyes widening with curiosity and a hint of admiration. “Larger than I expected, and... there are these ridges...” Her fingers trace the contours, sending jolts of electricity through me. “They’re... interesting. I can already imagine how they’d feel inside me.”

Her words make my blood surge, the bond-sickness flaring with a mix of pleasure and agonizing need. Each careful touch, each whispered observation, sends waves of heat through my body, making it nearly impossible to hold still.

“Neon,” I growl, my voice rough with desire. “You’re driving me mad.”

She smiles, a sly curve of her lips that makes my heart race. “Good,” she says softly. “Because you drive me just as crazy.”

Her fingers continue their exploration, tracing the sensitive ridges that pulse with need. “And these... they’re almost like they’re designed for pleasure,” she whispers, her voice low and husky. “I bet they’d hit all the right spots.”

The image her words conjure sends another wave of burning need through me. I can feel the pulse of my heart in my groin, each beat sending a wave of pleasure and pain through me. I groan, my hands fisting in the sheets, my body trembling with the effort of holding back.

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