Page 69 of Reluctantly Abducted
"Seventy-two hours," I remind him, a hint of tension in my voice.
"Hey," he says gently, turning his face to press a kiss to my palm. "Remember what I said? Let's not worry about the countdown. Just be here, now, with me."
His words ease something in my chest. "Here. Now. With you," I repeat, finding comfort in the simplicity.
"Exactly," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss me softly. "Everything else can wait until tomorrow."
As his lips meet mine, I allow myself to let go of the concerns, the calculations, the constant awareness of time passing. For now, there is only this moment, this space, this man.
And for now, that is enough.
Chapter Twenty-One
Owen
Ry's quarters are exactly what I would have expected—meticulously organized with carefully displayed specimens that I'm guessing hold scientific significance beyond their beauty. It's a space that reflects him perfectly—precision with unexpected moments of wonder.
But it's not the room I'm focused on. It's the man standing before me, blue skin glowing with patterns that I'm learning to read like a language. Nervousness. Anticipation. Desire. All shifting beneath the surface in waves of light that he's not trying to hide anymore.
"You're beautiful," I say, the words coming out before I can consider them. "The way you light up... I've never seen anything like it."
The compliment sends a fresh cascade of light across his skin, concentrating at his cheekbones in what I've come to recognize as the Nereidan equivalent of a blush. "It only happens with you," he says softly.
My hands move to the fastenings of his clothing, taking my time with each one. This isn't like the rushed urgency in the shower or our previous encounters. Tonight feels different. I want to savor every moment.
He stands still, watching me with those golden eyes as I slowly undress him, revealing his blue-tinted skin inch by inch. His bioluminescence brightens wherever my fingers brush against him, leaving trails of light that fade slowly. With each layer removed, his breathing becomes less even.
When I finally remove the last piece of his clothing, he stands naked before me, the blue of his skin deepening in certain areas—the hollow of his throat, the planes of his chest, the curveof his hips. Everywhere, beneath the surface, light pulses in patterns that match his quickening heartbeat.
He reaches for me then, pulling my shirt over my head with surprising urgency. His hands explore my chest, my sides, his touch both curious and possessive. I let him undress me completely, enjoying the growing confidence in his movements.
When we're both naked, the size difference between us becomes more apparent. His frame is leaner than mine, his shoulders narrower, his height slightly less. But there's nothing diminutive about the way his cock stands fully erect against his abdomen—impressively sized, adorned with subtle ridges that I know will create incredible sensations, and glowing with the same bioluminescence as the rest of his skin, though more intensely at the tip.
I guide him toward the bed, our hands intertwined. His fingers are longer than human proportions would suggest for his size, elegant and precise in their movements. As he lies back, the bioluminescence beneath his skin casts enough light to see him clearly even in the dimness of the room. I join him, propping myself on one elbow beside him.
"I want to touch you everywhere," I tell him, my voice low. "Make you feel good."
"Yes," he says simply, reaching for me.
I start with his mouth, kissing him deeply as my hands explore his body. His skin is cooler than human temperature but warms quickly under my touch. The bioluminescence brightens wherever my fingers trail, creating paths of blue-green light across his torso.
When I find a particularly sensitive spot just below his ribcage, his breath hitches, and the light beneath his skin pulses brightly.
"Like that?" I murmur against his skin.
"Yes," he gasps, arching into my touch.
I replace my fingers with my mouth, using my tongue and teeth gently against the sensitive area. His whole body responds, a moan escaping him that sends heat rushing through me.
I continue exploring, discovering all the places that make him gasp and glow brighter. His neck, just below his jaw. The inside of his wrist. The hollow of his hip. All the while, I tell him how gorgeous he is, how much I love the way he responds to me, how I've thought about this every night since we parted.
Each compliment triggers fresh waves of bioluminescence, his body glowing brighter with my words. By the time my mouth reaches his inner thigh, his skin is almost too bright to look at directly, pulsing with need.
I can't resist any longer. I take his cock in my hand, stroking slowly, feeling the ridges beneath my palm. The natural lubricant his body produces makes my hand glide easily, and I marvel at how his bioluminescence pulses in time with my strokes, brightest at the tip. When I lower my head and take him into my mouth, he lets out a sound I've never heard before—something between a gasp and a moan, but distinctly alien in its musical quality.
His hands find my hair, not guiding, just touching, connecting. I take my time, exploring the different texture, the unique taste—slightly sweet with mineral undertones. The ridges that run along the underside create an interesting sensation against my tongue, and I experiment with different techniques until I find what makes him glow the brightest.
"Owen," he gasps, fingers tightening in my hair. "I want more."
