Page 34 of Cosmic Castaway

The urge to move closer to Serlotminden and bury myself beneath the warmth of his scales flooded me, but he had someone. The current situation was driving him to his attraction. Lust, that was the reason.

And I had no idea if I liked him or not. I mean, I probably did. We definitely had a connection, but this situation was fraught with tension and problems. There was the very real chance I was latching onto him because he’d saved me and we were stuck together.

“Mindy,” I started.

“I am sorry, Bartholomew.”

“It’s fine, but in future maybe don’t look at me when I’m naked?”

“If that’s what you want.”

I frowned, peeking at him, but in the muted light of the tent, I couldn’t see his expression and he was staring directly above him. I asked, “Are drakcol comfortable with nudity?”

“Somewhat. We are not as comfortable as some species who’ve done away with clothes, but group bathing in hot springs is common enough.”

“I’ve never been to a hot spring.”

“I will take you when we go home.”

The word home shot a bolt of longing through me. We had very different ideas of where home was. “I would like that.”

“Then I promise to take you to a hot spring.” Mindy took a deep breath. “I am sorry I watched you without permission. I intended to speak to you and I don’t like when you’re out of my sight, but I should’ve closed the tent when I realized you were naked and unaware of my presence.”

“It’s fine. Add it to the permissions, I guess.”

His tail curled around my wrist, tugging me. “It’s cold.”

A smile fought my control at him repeating the same words I’d given him days ago. I shifted until I was pressed against his side. I took one deep inhale, and my eyes fluttered closed at his rich rain scent.

“You’re warm,” I said.

“Then stay beside me so you’re never cold again.”

Chapter 15

We are just friends.

I sat in the cockpit fiddling with the computer. This wasn’t my strong suit, but I could hardly expect Bartholomew to assist me.Bartholomew. Stars above. I’d had to leave the tent lest I roll over and press myself against him. I’d wanted to nuzzle him, to scent mark him, so he smelled of me and me alone. There was no one near us, but I needed everyone to know this human was under my protection.

In my entire life, I’d never felt anything like this. Not once. What was happening to me? I didn’t hate it, but I couldn’t say if I liked it either. It was unnerving to be so protective of him so suddenly. I didn’t understand it.

So I’d fled the warmth of the tent and turned to the computer. Getting the distress signal working so my brothers could find us was the first priority. Of course, the xoi might pick up the signal, but I hoped since they hadn’t shown up yet, they assumed we were dead. My brothers would not. They’d never stop searching for me—no matter how long it took.

It was late, not that it mattered. We didn’t follow the sun to mark our days, but Bartholomew hadn’t been asleep long. Even with my blunder in the bath, he hadn’t changed—he was his usual calm self, forgiving me with ease. Why hadn’t he been flustered? He’d seen me mostly naked, and I’d seen him.

Shouldn’t it mean something?

Apparently, my little human only felt friendship for me, which was perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t it be? We were friends. Just friends. I snarled under my breath, practically hitting the console as I attempted to get it to work. It showed my system, but it was not responding to my touch. Frustrated, I took a deep breath.

This wasn’t working. I desired Bartholomew, badly, and it was clouding my thoughts. My cock began to harden, and I groaned. I peeked over my shoulder at the darkened corridor; it was empty. Undoing my ties, I shuffled my trousers to my knees and pulled my cock out of my undershorts. It was hard and the tapered tip was leaking with pre-seed.

I gripped the base of my shaft and pulled. A low moan broke out of me. It was drier than I liked, but stars, it was nice. Rubbing my crown on my palm, I bit off a rough keen of pleasure. I looked over my shoulder again. I couldn’t be as loud as I normally was; Bartholomew might hear me.

Bartholomew. Oh, Bartholomew.

Soft moans came out of my lips as I pumped my cock and brushed the tip with the pad of my thumb. I needed to think of something else, but my brain refused to move from him.The little quirk of his lips. His breathy laugh. His soft skin. His deep brown eyes. His small butt. How he cared for me. How he ordered me around. Images of him on top of me, ordering me to moan, to please him, to beg filtered through my thoughts.

I cried, hips arching to fuck my tight grasp. I slipped one of my hands under my shirt to tweak a nipple, and I whimpered, hips rutting into my palm.

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