Ten
They got naked as soon as they reached home, stripping each other bare, laughing and teasing and touching. Once Elyce was completely nude, she donned her gun holster set again and jumped onto their sleeping support. His little female brimmed with energy and confidence.
It looked good on her.
Balvan stood to the side, watching his mate bounce, vastly amused. Her beautiful face was lit with happiness. Her generous curves jiggled. The leather holsters, green to match his skin, hung low on her hips.
He was a lucky male.
“Show me your shooting stance,” he urged. Watching her shoot had been an arousing experience. He had been tempted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her all over.
“This is the proper stance.” She landed on the sleeping support with her bare feet braced wide apart. “I draw my gun.” She removed one of her guns from its holster. “Slide the lever to shoot.” She struggled with that move, her face scrunching up, her expression adorable. “Aim.” She held the gun in front of her with both hands, pointing it at the far wall.
His cock, already hard, bobbed, showing his appreciation of the show she was giving him. His little female looked so strong, so badass.
“Then I press the trigger.” She brushed one of her thumbs over the trigger.
It must have been extremely sensitive. A projectile blasted into the wall, blowing a huge hole in it.
“Oh, no.” She covered her mouth with her hands.
Her gun-filled hands.
“Give me that.” Heart pounding, he rushed forward at modified humanoid speed and wrenched the weapons from his female’s fingers before she accidentally blew her pretty face off.
“S-s-sorry.” Elyce squeaked, shrinking back from him, raising her arms to protect herself.
She was shielding herself from him. His little female thought he’d hit her.
His darker emotions, stemming from fear and concern, evaporated. “I’m Balvan.” He softened his voice. “I’d never hurt you.”
Based upon his experience with beaten creatures, he’d be repeating that phrase for solar cycles. Deep wounds didn’t heal quickly. Caring for Elyce meant accepting that, embracing her past and the remnants of that trauma.
“You won’t hurt me…even when I do something wrong?” She looked pointedly at the huge hole in the wall. “Like shoot up your lovely home?”
“It’s our lovely home.” He sat on the edge of the sleeping support, the surface sagging under his tremendous weight, and he placed the gun on the nearby horizontal support. “And I’ll never hurt you, even if you shoot me.” He opened his arms.
She hesitated for a gut-twisting moment and then hurried forward, snuggling against him. “I would never shoot you.”
“You wouldn’t shoot me intentionally.” He petted the golden curls decorating her treasured head, savoring the soft tendrils. Future wounds didn’t concern him. The Humanoid Alliance had taught him to deal with pain. “Accidents happen.”
“It was an accident.” Her voice was muffled by his skin. “I barely touched the trigger.”
“I’ll adjust the trigger sensitivity when we wake.” He reclined on the sleeping support, taking her with him.
“Rhea didn’t show me how to do that.” She propped her chin on her arms, gazed at him. “You’re not angry with me?”
“If I’m to be angry with anyone, I should be angry with myself.” He removed her holster set, set it on the horizontal support next to her gun. “I promised to kiss all of your scars and I haven’t yet done that.”
Her face turned pink. “You kissed the scars around my neck.” She touched the marks.
“I didn’t kiss them thoroughly.” He pulled her upward and laved the raised flesh with the flat of his tongue, tasting the salt of her skin, the unique flavor of her. She trembled, her eyes flashing with a sexual excitement Balvan shared.
He lifted her hair, adored her nape with his lips, tried to turn her, seeking to kiss the scars on her back. She resisted.
He looked up at her, lifted one of his eyebrows.
“I want to see you.” Her gaze slipped from his. “So I know….”
So she knew it was him touching her, not one of the previous males. She needed that reassurance and he would give it to her. “I like seeing you also.”
A small smile curled her lips. “Do you?” Her voice was husky.
“I do.” He swirled his tongue into her jugular notch, the enticing vee at the base of her neck, and her head tipped back, her hair spilling over her shoulders. “Very much.”
Fraggin’ hole. She was beautiful.
He licked along her collarbone. That scar was thin and fine, as though someone had slid a blade along her skin. Thinking about the pain she must have felt doubled his determination to kill her tormenters.
Balvan would show her only pleasure and caring. He flicked his tongue over her bountiful breasts, the numerous tiny pink triangles matching the color of her taut nipples. Elyce wiggled on top of him, moaning softly, that sound wrapping around his balls.
He sucked first on one pink peak and then the other, drawing the sensitive flesh into his hot mouth, covering her with his nanohumanics. Her breasts were objects of wonder, rigid nipples surrounded by softness, heavy and full, fitting his huge hands. He kneaded her curves as he inhaled them, taking as much of her between his lips as possible.
Her scent intensified. He breathed her in. She was the oxygen in his lungs, his focus, his everything.
He drew her higher. She gripped his bald head, pressing her fingertips against his skin. He mouthed over the long scar across her stomach. It bore the shape of a whip mark, was likely representative of many other wounds that hadn’t scarred.
His female had endured them all, had survived that pain, alone. Unable to change her past, Balvan nuzzled against Elyce, making her unspoken promises of a different future, a future of caring, of company, with him by her side.
Her private curls dampened, her inner thighs glistening with wetness. He threaded his fingers through the short strands and she jerked.
“I’m-I’m not scarred there, am I?” She squirmed.
She was scarred there, her tormenters having abused all of her, but he kept that information to himself.
“You’re very pink.” Balvan spread her open and gazed at the core of her, small and dainty yet able to accommodate him. “That’s calling for kisses.”
“You can’t kiss me. Not there.” The need in her voice belied her protests.
He lifted her pussy to his mouth. Her thighs closed around his face. He was surrounded by wet, hot female and he loved it.
Balvan licked her from ass to clit. Her spine snapped straight. Only his grip on her hips stopped her from shooting forward.
“Balvan.” She fought his hold.
All that did was grind her pussy against his lips. “You’re delicious, little female.” He sucked on her delicate folds, the taste of her coating his tongue.
“I’m squishing you.” Elyce, seated upon him, expressed her concerns.
For him, a male who once had an entire domicile fall on his hard skull, a warrior who relished squishing more fragile heads under the heels of his boots.
Touched by her worry and vastly amused by its source, Balvan laughed against her. That response drew more tantalizing wetness from his female.
“You’re tiny, Elyce.” His voice was muffled by her flesh. “You can’t squish me.”
He pushed his tongue into her tight little entrance. A strangled sound came from her, one he interpreted as approval. He stroked her inner walls, drinking her in, reveling in her distinct fragrance.
“You’re inside me.” She sounded almost frantic with desire, her pitch higher than normal. “I feel you there.”
He never wanted to be anywhere else. Balvan swallowed, taking her into his body, feasting on her arousal.
“I’m tingling all over.”
Her updates on what his touch was doing to her were the most erotic things he had ever heard. He delved deeper, pressing his face into her softness.
“Oh. Yes.” She grabbed her breasts, holding those lush curves as he yearned to do, her fingers splayed over her nipples.
He thrust in and out of her pussy hole, breeding with his tongue, staking his claim on her, making her his. Gripping her ass, he squeezed and released, squeezed and released her to the same tempo.
“It is too much.” She rocked against him, his female no longer concerned about squishing his reinforced head. “Too good.”
He silently chanted the same refrain. She was liquid passion, dripping into his mouth. He ravished her faster, reached farther, working her pussy with a growing ferocity.
Her juices speckled his cheeks, his chin. She branded him with her scent.
He gazed up at her. She panted, her full lips parted, her eyes glazed with passion. Sweat beaded on her pale skin, glistening under the lights. Her eyes were the darkest blue, her hair glowed like a rare and precious metal.
This female was his. She trusted him and only him. Only he would touch her, bring her pleasure, see her like this, burning bright with wanting, ready to fall apart in his hands.
He licked and sucked and plunged his tongue into her, building her need more and more, until she writhed on top of him, her speech reduced to, “Yes, yes, yes.”
His balls throbbed to the same beat, ready to explode, his cock as hard as his skull. This encounter was supposed to be all about her, about her pleasure, her release, but it had entranced him also. When she came, he’d come.
He didn’t need her pussy or her mouth or her hand around him. All he required were her throaty cries, the sight of her body slick with wetness, her flavor dancing on his tongue.
That was enough. She was enough, this female plucked from Carinae E’s hot sands, delivered to his arms. Elyce was strength and passion, beauty and resilience, a survivor, a lover, his.
“Balvan.” Her inner walls closed around his tongue. She squeezed his head with her thighs, buffering him with softness.
She was close, was asking for more to push her over the edge. He rubbed his nose lightly over her clit.
She screamed, clamping down on him, her spine bowing. The exquisiteness of her release stripped his control. He roared into her pussy. Hot cum jetted from his tip, splattering against his stomach.
Pleasure coursed through him. Every sense amplified. He could hear the brush of her skin against his, the hitch in her breath, the rush of wetness down his throat. The image of her face would be scorched into his brain forever.
She shook and twisted and cried out. He held her to him, devouring every drop, sucking her dry. The pressure in his balls eased, replaced by euphoria.
Although he was physically pinned to the sleeping support by his curvy female, connected to her in all ways, his mind, his heart, his soul floated. He kissed her sweet little pussy hole.
“Too good.” She fell forward.
He caught her, slid her downward, layering her body over his. Elyce sighed, her breath blowing hot against his neck. She rested on top of him.
A comforting silence filled the chamber, broken solely by their breathing. He rubbed her back, savoring the press of her curves against him.
“You came,” she whispered.
“I did.” Balvan grinned. He’d come hard.
“I didn’t touch you, didn’t pleasure you.” There was a tinge of guilt in her voice.
“Giving you pleasure gives me pleasure.” He brushed her curls away from her forehead and kissed that smooth skin. “The truth of that is on my stomach.”
“I’ll tidy you.” She reached toward the horizontal support, grabbed a cleaning cloth.
He said nothing. It was important to his female that she do things for him. It seemed to make her feel equal, more in control.
Elyce drifted the square over his face, against his cheeks, wiping the wetness off his skin. She snapped the cloth to refresh it, dabbed it daintily around his lips, treating him, a rough warrior, a being others called a monster, like he was a precious object.
“I’ll repair the wall also,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze.
He looked at the huge hole, visual proof of the power she now had, her ability to protect herself. Elyce might benefit in the future from seeing that, from having that reminder.
“We could leave it like that for a while. It’s not every being who can do that much damage to a wall with one shot.” He allowed his pride in her to show. “You’re powerful, little female. Never doubt that.”
Her cheeks turned red. “I’m not as powerful as you are.” She slid the cleaning cloth over his stomach, her touch enthralling him.
“No one is as powerful as I am.” He flexed his biceps, teasing her, and was rewarded with one of her wonderful laughs.
While she tidied him, he told her stories about walls, structures and other things he’d destroyed, often by merely bumping into them. By the time she was done with her cleaning, his little female was smiling from ear to ear.
He felt a great sense of satisfaction over that accomplishment.
She returned the cleaning cloth to its spot on the horizontal support and settled against him. “Orol is very different from you.”
Balvan became still, a chill settling upon him. Many females considered Orol to be handsome. Did she prefer his friend also? Was Orol the male she wanted? “He’s not for you, my little female.”
Elyce was his. He would kill any male, friend or not, who touched her.
“Orol is half the male you are,” she retorted, her tone pert. “Why would I be interested in him?”
He stared at her. She questioned why she would be interested in his friend. His big body warmed once more.
She thought Orol was half the male he was.
He barked with laughter, relief sweeping over him. His female didn’t want his friend. She wanted him.
“Don’t tell him I said that.” She waved her finger at him. “He’s probably sensitive about his...size. It shouldn’t matter. Rhea clearly likes tiny males.”
“Tiny males.” That set Balvan off again. He filled the chamber with his mirth, his entire body shaking.
Orol wouldn’t view their conversation as being humorous as he did. His friend was proud, viewed himself as the ultimate warrior. He wouldn’t appreciate being called a tiny male.
The winged warrior was a modified humanoid. All of them were larger than any human and Orol was no exception.
But he clearly wasn’t large enough for Elyce. Balvan patted her bare ass. She’d been spoiled.
“But Rhea is his slave,” his female mused, her forehead furrowed with thought lines. “So maybe that influences her feelings.”
That stopped his laughter. “Rhea isn’t Orol’s slave.” The two of them were mates and were expecting their first set of offspring. They were equals and very much in love. “She’s as free as you and I.”
The lines on Elyce’s forehead deepened. “Then why does she wear his collar?”
“I don’t know.” Rhea had acted like Orol’s slave for a mission but that mission had ended many planet rotations ago and she continued to wear the collar. “I guess she likes wearing it.”
“I didn’t like wearing a collar.” Elyce touched the scars around her neck.
To his little female, Rhea voluntarily wearing a collar would be like Balvan wearing chains around his arms and legs for entertainment. It wouldn’t make sense to her.
He drew her closer to him. “Rhea’s collar doesn’t hurt her and I’m certain, if she wanted, she could take it off at any time.” Orol doted on his mate. “She wants to wear it.”
“Hmmm…” Elyce didn’t sound swayed by those differences in their situations. “I still wouldn’t like it.”
I still wouldn’t like it. He gazed down at her. Did she worry he’d make her wear a collar?
“I wouldn’t like it either.” He wanted her to choose him of her own free will, not feel as though she was forced to be with him. “I prefer your neck bare.” He bent his head and smacked his lips noisily against her scars. “Then it’s available for kissing at any time.”
He demonstrated, kissing those pink marks again and again, loudly, with much fuss, until she giggled, that joyous sound light and musical. The tension in the air dissipated, his little female reassured once more.
“You have a scar obsession, my huge male.” She curved her right palm over his cheek, both her words and her actions staking a claim on him.
His heart squeezed. “I have an Elyce obsession.” He turned his head and kissed the marks on her wrist. “Your scars are one of the many pretty parts of you.”
“You say the nicest things.” She brushed her lips across his, her soul-meltingly tender kiss reinforcing a truth he suspected.
His little female cared for him.
She might grow to love him…in time.
“I mean those nice things.” Balvan rested his chin on the top of her head, her blonde curls soft against his skin. He wanted her love, yearned for it desperately, was beginning to believe that it might be possible for someone like him to earn.
That was dangerous thinking, because if that goal, if that dream wasn’t achievable, he suspected it would tear him apart. The Humanoid Alliance hadn’t been able to break him, but being rejected by his tiny female might.
She had that power over him.
Moments passed, a companionable silence falling upon them. His little female’s eyes closed. Her breathing deepened.
Elyce slept, warm and yielding in his arms.
Balvan’s lips curled upward. He was a lucky male.