Page 76 of Reluctantly Abducted
When we break apart, his bioluminescence is pulsing in a pattern I haven't seen before—complex whorls and eddies of light that seem to follow some mathematical pattern too intricate for me to grasp.
"What now?" I ask, my thumbs tracing small circles on his shoulders.
"Now," Ry says, his voice taking on that tone of scientific determination I've come to find oddly endearing, "we need to document this. See how this bond differs from our first attempt."
I laugh, feeling his excitement through our connection. "Of course we do."
"This is incredible, Owen," he continues, standing and taking my hands in his. "After our first attempt failed, I wasn't sure if we'd ever bond. But it's happening now, just like I hoped."
"Maybe we're just that compatible," I suggest, pulling him closer.
"That's one way to look at it," he agrees with a smile, his body pressing against mine. "We should test it more, see how strong it is."
"Thoroughly," I repeat, sliding my hands down to his waist. "And how exactly do we do that?"
The bioluminescence beneath his skin brightens at my touch, patterns shifting with his thoughts. "We could try distance tests," he says. "See how emotions transfer between us. Maybe measure how our bodies sync up..."
"Sounds very scientific," I murmur, my lips finding the sensitive spot just below his ear.
"We should maintain consistent testing parameters to—" he breaks off as my teeth graze his skin, a small gasp escaping him. Through our new connection, I feel his desire flare, mingling with my own.
"You were saying?" I prompt innocently, pulling back to look at him.
"Testing can wait," he decides, the shift from scientific curiosity to desire so quintessentially Ry that I smile. "I have more immediate priorities right now."
"I can feel that," I tell him, the double meaning making him flush with blue-tinged light. "Want to head back to your quarters?"
But instead of answering, Ry gives me a look that sends heat straight to my groin. In one quick motion, he's up from his chair and pressing against me, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth and need.
"Fuck going back to quarters," I growl against his mouth, already backing him toward the counter. "I want you right here."
His skin practically lights up the entire room at that, those blue-white patterns flaring bright as I push him against the counter. I slide my hands down his chest, feeling him shiver under my touch, then tug at his pants.
"We're in the nutrition center," he says, but I can feel through our weird new connection that the impropriety of it turns him on as much as it makes him nervous.
"We're also alone on the entire ship," I tell him, dropping to my knees and yanking his pants down. "And I really need to taste you right fucking now."
I don't waste time with teasing. I take him in my mouth, feeling his knees buckle slightly as I work him with my tongue. His alien cock is different from a human's—smoother, with those same glowing patterns running along the underside—but the way he moans when I suck him is universal enough.
"Owen," he gasps, his fingers digging into my shoulders. "I can—I'm feeling what you're feeling—"
That's when it hits me too—this echo of sensation, like I'm experiencing both sides at once. I can feel my own pleasure in giving and somehow feel what he's receiving too. The bond is letting us feel each other's sensations, and holy shit, it's intense.
"Turn around," I tell him, my voice rough. "Hands on the counter."
He complies immediately, which is fucking hot coming from a guy who usually overthinks everything. I run my hands over his ass—another place where his anatomy is subtly different, more muscular with those glowing patterns that pulse brighter when he's turned on.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I tell him, because he is, especially like this—bent over the kitchen counter, glowing with desire, all that scientific control completely shot to hell.
I spread him open and put my mouth on him, feeling him jerk and hearing him curse in that alien language of his. Through our connection, I can feel exactly what he likes, adjusting the pressure and movement of my tongue to make those glowing patterns on his skin pulse brighter.
"Owen," he groans, pushing back against my face. "Please—I need—"
"I know exactly what you need," I tell him, because I do. I can feel it. I work him open with my fingers, my own cock so hard it hurts just from the sounds he's making.
When I finally push into him, we both shout. The sensation is doubled, maybe tripled—I'm feeling my cock inside his tight heat and somehow feeling what it's like for him to be filled by me. It's so intense I have to grip his hips hard just to stay upright.
"Fuck," I pant, trying not to come immediately. "Can you feel—"
