Page 27 of Taken to Voraxia
“Xivoora, Xiveri.” My hearts. My mate. The words are intended for mates that share only the deepest bond. Our journey may have only just begun, but as I utter the words, they feel only right.
“Are you ready?” I say, repeating her earlier words back to her.
Her lips stretch. Her thighs tremble. “Hexa,” she whispers and I do not hesitate.
My xora plunges forward into her and I watch her mouth open into a perfect O as the bulging head of my throbbing xora reaches that final barrier, without breaking it. Thepressure…
She told truths. She has never been tried. And she is half-human. So fragile. My Xanaxana is screaming now and I can hardly think through it. Her swollen silk is the tightest thing my xora has ever felt and never have I felt such slipperiness.
I could glide into her so easily and rut her filthily, like an animal, defiling her soft, lithe form again and again until we are both winded and wounded and broken and rendered whole by the Xanaxana’s first release. There will be many more, but the first release is said to be the most haunting and I want — no, Ineed —her to feel pleasure from my xora as she has from my hand and my lips.
Voraxian females tell tales that this first Xanaxana breeding cannot bear anything but heirs and pain, but I wonder if for my hybrid, there might be another way.
I think of her silken button, and the pleasure she felt when I stroked her tail. Dropping forward, I brace one arm by her side while I slip the other around to reach her swollen velvet button, that delicious pleasure morsel. At the same time, my tail moves around my hip to coil hers firmly. She is locked in its grip, locked in my grip, unable to move, unable to do anything but suffer the pleasure I will bring her.
In the heat of my passion I have to be more careful than I believed possible to ensure that I touch her folds only with the pad of my finger and not the claw. I circle her button once, twice, a third delicate stroke and eventually I hear the telltale signs of her shortening breaths.
“Comets and chaos,” she chants, her face twisting into and out of wicked masks of delight, “Raku, you didn’t tell me it would be like this…”
I do not answer her. Because I had not known either. I gently bite down on her shoulder and as her body shakes apart, I slam forward, able to feel the universe collide through my bones. The Xana, the divine spirit that guides the universe, and her mate, the Xaneru, join together and start to sing.
Her untried barrier breaks apart on my first stroke. She screams. And then she screams even louder. Her feathery walls drown my xora in cream and spiced nectar andxok the ancestorsas her walls clamp eventighter.
I can’t breathe. This is punishing. The pain I feel as I balance on the cliff’s jutting edge, fighting against an inevitable fall, is utterly unbearable and I know that my Rakukanna is a savage thing as she punishes me for this mounting. And I accept the punishment without anything but full and utter reverence, capitulation, and rapture.
I roar. Pounding my hips forward, I rut her madly, with a feverishness that borders on insanity. I last mere moments before thick ropes of seed explode out of my body and fill her up for what might be seconds or days.
Heat and lightning descend as my three stones twitch and jerk. The round curve of her bottom catches my hips as I slump forward and release, and release, and release…
She moans into the sleeping mat and takes it all beneath me without one utterance of protest. I tilt her face towards mine and in her eyes, I see the stars and hallucinate the next world for a moment. The one where I take her inside of me and keep her there, just to protect and have close.
When I come back, my mouth is pressed to the nape of her neck. Through her hair, I deliver the kiss to her. She breathes lightly and quickly, and her eyes are closed, but her lips still receive mine when I bend over her body and take the kiss to her there as well. Her mouth is tilted up in pleasure and her tongue tastes mine playfully.
I feel a desperation that is foreign to me clutch at my second heart, because that desperation has long since claimed my first. Her upper body is buried in the sleeping mat, my torso pressing her into it, while the spasms of her inner walls jerk and twitch and delicate whispers spill from her throat.
My seed — the last drop of all that I had stored for her this past rotation — meets her cream, exploding into her, and when that last drop is spent, I bellow out her name. Not her title, butMiari.Just as I want her to say mine.
I do not know why and I don’t try to understand it. I stop fighting. A funny thing, because I did not realize that Iwasfighting, that I have always been fighting.
Careful of my weight, I collapse to the side of her body and pull her against me without removing my xora from her hot, wet heat. I utter a weak-issued order to the voice-recognized controls to douse the lights and secure the room with every precaution. Nothing will harm her while I am in this weakened state.
As the darkness crashes down on us abruptly I am troubled by a siege of dangerous thoughts towards the female. Thoughts of her nameMiari Miari Miari. I want to hear my own on her tongue.
“Thank you, Raku,” she murmurs, half-asleep, but the words are enough to make me tense around her, shaking with a desire to pull her close enough to crush. She chokes out a little pleasure sound and I bury my face in her hair. She pleases me so greatly.But there’s still something else that I want from her. And a gift I have to give her first.
“My born name was Xoran.”
My tongue moves without my mind’s consult and I tense, waiting in abject horror for her to recoil from me. I am not a youngling and I am not a slave. I amRaku. And I fail to understand my need to give her such a great honor when she does not know what it means, or its value. Is it truly for so little in return as the thought that I might someday hear it on her tongue?Hexa. Yes, as I would say, were I human.
Her tongue peeks between the flash of her white teeth as she grins. I bend forward and nip at it, tasting it again. She makes the pleasure sound, but does not deny my entry and we do this kiss for a little while more while my xora stirs to life inside of her. She gasps as she feels it lengthen and grow.
“Nox,” I say, tasting her with finality and running my claws through her curls. “The Xanaxana is sated on this first mating.” I whisper against her shoulder, to which, I deliver the kiss. “Your first mating will have left you sore. I will allow you to recover.”
She drops her head onto my arm. “Mhmm.”
I make the pleasure expression in response though I remain inside of her, our bodies joined as one.
My hearts beat hard, but my Xiveri — myMiari’s— eyes are closed. She drifts away from me to a world where I cannot follow her.
