Page 77 of Reluctantly Abducted
"Everything," he gasps. "I feel everything."
I start to move, finding a rhythm that has those glowing patterns on his skin pulsing in time with my thrusts. I reach around to stroke him, and the doubled sensation nearly tips us both over the edge.
"Harder," he demands, and who am I to argue?
I fuck him against the counter, my hand working his cock, our shared pleasure building through the bond until I can't tell where my sensations end and his begin. His skin is practically blinding now, illuminating the kitchen in pulses of blue-white light.
When he comes, I feel his orgasm as if it's my own, triggering my release so hard that my vision actually whites out for a second. I empty myself into him, still thrusting through the aftershocks, our combined pleasure bouncing back and forth through the bond like some kind of sexual echo chamber.
We stay like that for a minute, both of us catching our breath, my chest pressed against his back, my face buried in his neck. I can feel his satisfaction mixing with mine, a pleasant warmth flowing between us.
"Fuck, that was intense," I finally manage, slowly pulling out of him.
He turns around, his face flushed blue, his eyes dazed. "The bond appears to enhance sexual pleasure by creating a neurological feedback loop of sensation."
I laugh and kiss him to shut him up. "Only you would analyze mind-blowing sex like a science experiment."
"You like it when I analyze things," he says, and I can feel through the bond that he knows it's true.
"Yeah, I do," I admit, helping him pull his pants back up. "But maybe we should clean up and move to your quarters. I'm not done with you yet, and I want a bed for round two."
He nods, adjusting his clothing with those precise movements I've come to find weirdly endearing. "The bond will likely continue to develop. We should document the changes in sensation and emotional transference."
"If by 'document' you mean 'fuck until we can't move,' then I'm totally on board with your research plan," I tell him, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door.
As we head for his quarters, I can still feel his emotions mingling with mine—satisfaction, excitement, and a surprising contentment I never expected to feel with him, of all people.
So we've got a working bond this time. No idea what that means long-term, but honestly? Right now I'm just thinking about getting him back to his quarters so I can make him light up like neon signs all over again. Who would've thought I'd end up actually glad I got abducted by a glowing alien with a protocol fetish? Life is fucking weird sometimes.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ry'eth
"You're staring at me again," I observe without looking up from my data analysis. The bond transmits Owen's unrepentant amusement before he even speaks.
"Can you blame me?" he replies. "The way you glow when you're working is better than any light show on Earth."
I feel my bioluminescence respond to his compliment, brightening involuntarily. After three months of sharing my living and working space with Owen, I still find myself reacting to his attention like this—my body betraying my emotions despite my best attempts at scientific composure.
The holographic display before me shows the recovery patterns of the northern archipelago ecosystem after our latest restoration effort. The data is promising, suggesting the native flora is adapting to the adjusted salinity levels more rapidly than my initial projections estimated. I should be fully focused on this significant development, but instead, my awareness keeps shifting to Owen's presence across our shared workspace.
Through our bond, I feel his restlessness—a bright, crackling energy that contrasts with my more measured state. He's supposed to be finalizing his medical assessment protocols for the next group of human arrivals, but his attention has been wandering for the past twenty-seven minutes.
"The integration committee expects your report tomorrow," I remind him, though I know my mild disapproval is undermined by the affection leaking through our bond.
"They'll get it," he assures me, stretching in a way that momentarily distracts me from my own work. "I'm just taking a break."
Our research station, located at the edge of the Central Science District, provides an optimal view of the bioluminescentforest that surrounds the city. The sight still captivates Owen, though he's been here for ninety-two days now. I find myself appreciating the familiar landscape anew through his experiences—the way the forest pulses with light during evening transitions, how the crystalline formations reflect the triple moons, even the distinctive mineral scent of the air after precipitation.
I save my current analysis and turn my chair to face him. "Is the report creating difficulties?" I ask, noting how he's been opening and closing the same file for the past twelve minutes.
"Nah," he says, running a hand through his hair—a gesture I've learned indicates mild frustration mixed with boredom. "It's just... weird being responsible for the medical evaluation of humans on an alien planet. The combat medic training helps, but this is a whole different level."
"And yet you've demonstrated remarkable aptitude for the role," I point out. "Your understanding of human physiology, combined with your adaptive thinking, has been invaluable to the integration program."
Owen laughs, the sound still sending ripples of warmth through my chest. "Only you could make 'you're good at keeping humans from dying on an alien planet' sound like a formal commendation."
I feel my skin pulse with amusement. "It was intended as a compliment."
