Chapter 7

I guessSohven knew what he was talking about when he claimed we wouldn’t have long to wait for an answer from the Lohnya officials. Only five days have passed since he submitted his request, and although I trusted that he believed what he told me, I’m still feeling a bit dazed as I read through the entry-permissions documents one more time.

There’s my name, Jace Cesari (designation human), right beside Sohven’s official title. This is the stuff of my academy dreams. Officer dreams too, if I’m being honest. I’m well aware that it’s a privilege I haven’t truly earned, but that doesn’t kill the excitement bubbling around in my chest at the thought of being allowed access to a closed world.

“I don’t see a specified exit date anywhere. Did I miss it?” I ask, glancing back at Sohven. He’s sitting right behind me, so I know he can scan the document as easily as I can.

“No,” he replies with almost no inflection at all.

I twist in my seat to face him. “That’s strange.” I keep watching his face. “Highly unusual, in fact. Some would even say bizarre or unheard of.”

“I told you we’d be approved.”

“Sure, but seriously, every other planet we’ve entered legally has required an exit date. Do you know why there isn’t one?” Maybe I shouldn’t question our good luck, but I’ve rarely had any of my standard travel plans go so smoothly, and I definitely expected a few more barriers to entry for a closed planet. “What can you tell me about Lohnyal? If we’re able to get there that fast, according to this,” I say with a nod at the doc on my datapad, “we could be walking on your home world in less than a week.”

I set down the datapad and shift my legs under me when he stays silent. We’re on the bed in Sohven’s cabin again. I might have asked for space, but I haven’t been doing a good job of taking it. My room has gotten as much use as it did before, which is to say hardly any.

“I’m not certain how to begin. Lohnyal is…” Sohven’s hands curl around his horns and pull up the length of them before he shakes his wings a bit and looks at me. “It’s very different. The first year after I left was the hardest. I didn’t understand the way things worked among other species—my people don’t use credits or bargaining chips. Lohnyal is small, but not in size. When I was there, the world felt limited, confined, even if I couldn’t describe it then.”

“You’ve never really talked about it before.”

“No,” he admits, “I don’t enjoy remembering that part of my life.” He reaches forward and places one of his big hands over my thigh, and his two thumbs start rubbing circles on either side. “I don’t hate my people, but I didn’t belong there. Once I realized that, it was impossible for me to remain.”

I lean back, knowing his body will be there to catch me.

“Are you sure you want to go then? If you’ve changed your mind, we can always skip Evatat-5 and head to Milska Station for the casinos, or maybe make a detour to Jalichst for their red beaches.” I grab his hand to stop it from moving, but I don’t look back when I speak again. “We could get married the human way if that’s really what you want. If that’s what you need to get over Sannaveh, I’ll do it—happily.”

“Is that why you said yes? Just to help me?” It’s hard for Sohven’s voice to sound sharp. It’s too deep, too sonorous, the molten thickness of it too smooth to turn jagged, yet somehow he does it.

“No.” I twist towards him and grasp his shoulders. “That’s not what I meant. Maybe I wouldn’t have been in the same hurry to make it official, but I’d already decided a long time ago you were it for me, big guy, and don’t you forget it.”

“Maybe I need you to prove it—for you to force me to remember.”

Sohven’s breathing deeply, slitted nostrils flaring as he inhales my scent. His eyes darken until they’re almost fully black, and his curved talons twist the light as he moves, turning his hands palm inwards to stroke over my arms and chest without risking any contact with their sharp edges.

“If that’s what you want, you’ve got it,” I tell him. I pull away and get up, walking to stand at the foot of the too small bed. I unfasten my shirt and pull it off, bunching the fabric in my fist as I watch him. “Turn around, hands and knees. Face the wall and spread your wings.”

His frame is too large for the bed, making graceful movements impossible, but the sight of him following my direction is still as beautiful as it ever was. He presses his hands down into the mattress and lifts his hips and his wings at the same time. From this angle, the bottom edges cloak him in rust-streaked red, and I can practically taste copper on my tongue. I might tell myself differently, but I can’t deny that the sheer power of his massive body intoxicates me. The fact that I could harness it with a single word leaves me dizzy.

Sohven’s strong muscles pull his wings together, lifting them high up above his back. I can see the thick ridges of muscle on either side of his spine leading towards his sculpted ass. The bulk of his wings, the sinewy folds, drape down to the floor on either side of the bed. I draw a fingertip along the curve of his vertebrae, from right beneath the base of his wings, to the top of his crack. My dick kicks against my trousers when I feel his muscles tighten beneath the pad of my finger.

I love having this kind of control over him. It was different on Sannaveh. I didn’t know that he was mine then. I’d forgotten all about the way his body shivered for me, about how he needed to be shown he belonged to me.

My finger drifts lower. He hisses, trying to hold back one of those low moans that gets my blood running hot.

“I like you loud,” I say as I rub my thumb in circles over his hole.

The vibrating, straining sound he releases has my hips shifting, and I suck in a thready breath of my own. The noises he makes cut me through straight to the bone, and the throaty rumble that follows has me shivering like I’m fever-drunk.

“What next, Jhevase?” he asks, his words muddled by the bedding pressed close against his face.

I reach beneath him, clasping his balls in my other hand before my fingers search out the appendage that’s already tapping and twining around his cock, eager and hungry for release. He’s dripping, his mating fluid viscous like warm honey on my fingers. I wrap my hand around him, massaging the oval-shaped tip of the appendage, coaxing out more, getting myself messy with it.

The ragged whispering muffled by the sheets is my name, the syllables coming out broken and parted. I don’t tease him too much—not yet.

I pull my hand back, letting some of the thick slickness glide across his balls and taint, leaving a glistening trail to mark my progress. I lean forward to breathe in his scent there where it clings the strongest, and he lets out a pained noise as his body shudders from the cool shock of my exhale against the wet path.

My eyes close as I enjoy the musky sweet smell of him. Then I remember my goal and lift myself up. I press my slippery fingers all around his hole, coating everything with the thick fluid. It doesn’t take much effort to push inside of him, one finger and then another.

This is different for him than it is for me—a human. He doesn’t derive his pleasure from his prostate. He’s explained before that if he were in heat, he’d be wet for me, that he’d shake with rapture, that the sensitivity might well drive him senseless, but that only certain conditions trigger it, and none of them can be found aboard an alien ship.

That’s probably why we don’t do this as often. I pull my fingers free and shift back to unbuckle my belt and shimmy out of my trousers, leaving them to bunch and pool by my knees. I take my dick in hand, giving it a few strokes before I move closer, until I place the head against his opening. It feels impossibly small. I inhale and push slightly, shivering as I feel it stretch around the tip of me and then tighten again. Push, release, push, pull back—I only let my hips rock the slightest bit until I finally sense his hole relaxing enough to take me.

I can’t entirely fold myself over his back without crushing his wings, but I get as close as I can, curving my body over his as my cock pushes in deeper. His wings flutter beneath my chest when my balls press against his leathery skin. I’m as far inside him as I can be, and he keens, a different sound from his groans and grunts of pleasure. It’s not pain—it’s not physical at all.

When he wants this from me—when he needs this—it’s because he’s yearning for the connection, the visceral, undeniable evidence that I claim him too. For just a moment, shame almost overpowers me that I’ve made him go without for so long, but then his channel spasms around me, and can’t help but move. My mind is too full for guilt or thoughts of the future when I thrust inside of him, surrendering to the sensation.

My hands are wrapped around his sides beneath his wings, but my face presses into the valley between the bony ridges at the base of them. There’s the faintest bit of velvety stubble there, and I rub my nose against it before I kiss the same spot.

He cries out, spine arching sharply beneath me. I thrust harder and faster, opening my mouth wide enough to bite down on that sensitive area between his wings again. He doesn’t stop bucking after that, taking over as he impales himself on my cock and hijacks my rhythm. Any illusion that I was in control slips as his muscles clench around me, his furious pace pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

I don’t let go. I keep my mouth right where it is so I can savor the taste of him, and luckily I still have the wherewithal to slide my right hand down beneath the side of his hip so I can grip his cock. My strokes are faltering and uneven—I’m far too gone to multitask as I chase the release that feels like it’s only a thrust away.

He shoves himself back against me as I slam into him, and my chest slips roughly across his thicker skin. I tense up and then groan as I start to come. My hips give a few more sharp little jerks, but as the pleasure detonates, any remaining energy I had left spills out along with it. I lie draped over him, my body heavy and languid, and I don’t hurry to move. Sohven can take my weight. I’m in no danger of crushing him.

My hand is sandwiched between Sohven’s softening cock and the sticky wet sheets, the tip of his appendage pulsing faintly inside my curled up hand. I give it one last gentle squeeze, wringing out the last drops of his second release along with a high-pitched cry that floats in the air a moment before it fades away.

Then he hums, long and low, in that satisfied way I like.

“Good?” I ask.

He responds with a raspy chuff. “Very.”

He reaches back and wraps a hand around my thigh, and I sigh against his back. I turn my cheek, finally noticing the way the bony ridges of his wings dig into my face now that I’m coming back to myself.

Slowly, I start to move, but I’m all tangled up in him, and he clenches his ass, not ready to let me go.

“Stay. Just a little longer,” he says. “Please, Jhevase.”

“Of course,” I tell him, and then I close my eyes again.

I picture the way we look together, my body a paler, slighter curve cradling his larger, bulky frame. Then I wonder what his people will think when they see us, the people who made him feel like he didn’t belong among them any longer. Whatever happens on Lohnyal, I won’t let him forget again that he’s mine—mine since the day I first called him Sohven.