Chapter 13

Lorran:

They crashed through the door, bodies pressed together, mouths seeking, and hands everywhere.

Lorran lifted Wyn and set her on top of the counter. She blinked; her velvety eyes confused. “Bed? I mean, yeah for sex in the kitchen, but can we start in bed?”

He eyed the food preparation area. He had not intended to claim his mate anywhere but their bed, but now that she mentioned the prospect of other locations…he was intrigued. The suggestion had merit. “The heating elements pose a threat. Intercourse here is inadvisable, but we can try other locations,” he concluded.

Wyn laughed, the sound bright and unhindered. “Inadvisable. Stop being so hot.”

Lorran reached into the cabinet above her, doing his best to flex his arms for maximum effect. Wyn licked her lips. He removed two cups.

“Oh, the tea thingy. I’ve heard about that,” she said.

“It is not a thingy. It is a ceremony and a sacred moment between mates before they finalize their commitment to one another.” He set out the teapot and other accessories. Over the past week, he had been gathering the necessary components, yet his meager offerings seemed inadequate.

Wyn hopped down from the counter. “Sorry if I sounded flippant. What do we need to do and are we ready?”

Lorran cradled her face with one hand and brushed his thumb over her lips. “I apologize that I cannot offer you silken robes to wear, or a comfortable home, or even a comfortable room. I do not have the proper tea or even a proper tea set.” He thought of the delicate set of pottery that his mother gifted him, which sat in the original gift box in his cabin on the Judgment.

They should wait. His mate deserved only the finest, not a scavenged set of chipped pottery.

“Apologies.” He released her and stepped back with a sigh. “I will not pressure you. I will wait however long you need.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, grabbing his hand and keeping him in place. She searched his face. Whatever she saw, she knitted her brows and dropped his hand. “What’s going on?”

“My mother gifted me a tea set, for when I took a mate, and all I offer you is this.” He waved at the motley pieces he assembled. His efforts were inadequate. Laughable. He was impatient and rushing. Again.

“I don’t care about that,” she said, confusion on her face. “I thought we had a good date.”

“Yes. The best date I have ever had.” The first, if he excluded their expedition to SRV-P11, which Wyn jokingly called their first date.

“I’m ready for the next step. That’s bitey tea time, right?”

He scanned the room, noticing only the age and wear on the furniture and the water stains in the ceiling.

“But you’re not ready.” She breathed out, releasing a sigh. “Okay. This is going fast. I mean, we’re strangers. We’ve only known each other for two weeks.”

“A male knows his mate instantly.” He knew it when he saw her sleeping on the bunk in the back of the shuttle, but it took a good few minutes for his brain to catch on.

She gave a thin smile that did not reach her eyes. “You know I like you.”

“You love me,” he said, refusing to let her take those words back.

“Yes. I love you.” She lifted her chin, as if steeling herself for a battle. “I care for you, and I’m attracted to you. You’re handsome and kind and fun. When you make me laugh, I feel like the most important person in the world. That may sound shallow, and there’s so much we don’t know about each other, but yeah.” She sucked in a breath, as if preparing for a long speech, then let out a frustrated sigh. “That’s about it, I guess.”

“Your laughter is the sweetest sound I have ever heard,” he said, truthfully.

“I’m trying to tell you I’m in this for the long haul. A lifetime. If you want to wait for the right china and fancy robes, then we wait. This is important to you. A sacred moment between mates,” she said, repeating his words. “It sounds like a once in a lifetime event, so we do it right. No rushing. You know, on Earth we have a ceremony too. We call it a wedding.”

“I have heard my brother’s mate refer to this ritual. Tell me of it.”

She reached for his hand. Her thumb brushed the back of his hand, and the ink at his wrist flickered silver. “Well, it’s between two people who vow to love each other. We invite our friends and family for the vows. We wear fancy clothes too. And flowers. Like, flowers everywhere. We exchange rings that symbolize our commitment.” She touched his second to last finger on his left hand. “You wear it on this finger.”

He had an idea what happened next as he had watched many Terran films with Hazel. “And then a kiss?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He leaned in, gently claiming her lips. His mate was as sweet and inviting as ever, opening for him to deepen the connection. Reluctantly, he forced himself to pull away.

“What happens in your ceremony?” she asked, lips swollen, and eyes glazed with desire.

“Stoic and respectful silence as we drink the traditional tea. Allegedly, the brew is bitter and possibly psychotropic.”

“Oh my God, trippy tea?”

“I have heard varying reports. My mother said it calms the nerves. My brother’s mate, Rosemary, said it was like a punch to the gut but reports no other properties. Perhaps the tea leaves lose their potency with age.”

“And after the stoic and respectful silence? What happens? I mean, I’ve read that the Mahdfel bite their mates the first time,” she said.

“That is true. I will claim you and leave a mark. Here.” He brushed along the curve of her neck.

“You’ll bite me.”

“Yes.” He angled his hips so she had no doubt of his attraction and how much he anticipated that moment. Her eyes went wide, and her pink tongue licked her bottom lip.

“Will it hurt?”

“Only for a moment,” he answered. “If I time it correctly, you will have too much pleasure to notice. Do not worry. I am not experienced, but I am skilled in all things that I set my mind to.” He would have his mate writhing in pleasure, too blissed out to notice the pinch of his bite.

She blinked. “Not experienced? Oh wow. Are you a virgin?”

“Never that with another. There seemed little point if it was not forever,” he said. He enjoyed the female form, but romantic attachments held little interest when they were not his mate.

“But you’re so charming and good-looking. That’s unbelievable.” She blinked again.

He tapped her nose softly, amused at her inability to process this information. “Believe it. I waited for you.”

“Oh.” More blinking, but the glazed, surprised look vanished from her eyes. “I’m not, you know, a virgin.”

“I am aware,” he said. Wyn had spoken of a previous mate, and while he disliked thinking of another touching his mate, he enjoyed listening to the stories of that male’s failure to keep Wyn’s heart. Perhaps it was unkind of him to exploit another male’s mistake, but Lorran was not above such dishonorable tricks.

“Does that bother you? Because I can’t change the past.”

“No. I am bothered that another male hurt your heart, but you are my forever, Bronwyn. You are mine.” He brushed the curve of her neck. He couldn’t wait to see his mark there. “And I look forward to experiencing your…experience.”

Her lips quirked up in a half smile. “Maybe we should practice? I mean, we don’t have to go all the way.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Lots of people wait until marriage but lots don’t.” She stepped back, moving to the bed. “And there are plenty of things we can do.”

“To practice,” he said.

She licked her lips again and took another step.

“I do not want to disappoint my mate and she promised me unlimited kisses.”

He stalked forward.

Wyn laughed and ran to the bed, tossing herself on it like it was a safe space.

“Foolish. Running like prey to my den,” he growled. He grabbed her ankle and dragged her to the edge of the mattress. She laughed and kicked, not hard enough to indicate this was anything more than a game. “I want my kiss.”

She rolled onto her back; her hair spread out around her like a halo. He stood at the edge of the bed, between her knees. She moved to sit up, but he pushed her down again.

“I’ve kissed your mouth. I want your cunt,” he said. She gasped, then nodded.

Lorran undressed his mate with clumsy fingers, fumbling with buttons and metal zippers that had to be tugged down. He growled in frustration, wanting to tear the fabric.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. She batted away his hands and undid her trousers, lifting her hips to shimmy out of them. “These are my favorite jeans, and I know you know how zippers work.”

Gray panties. The oversized ivory sweater obscured them, so Lorran lifted the sweater to better admire the way the gray fabric swelled and stretched over her hips. The view from behind was probably just as nice.

He rolled her over to verify. Yes, very aesthetically pleasing.

Hooking his fingers into the fabric, he peeled the panties down, revealing her luscious ass. Impulsively, he kissed the round flesh.

Wyn jolted and twisted her hands into the bedsheet. “Warn a girl, huh?”

He spread her feet as wide as they would go, panties pooling at her ankles. She lifted her hips up, presenting her lovely cunt.

“I face an interesting dilemma,” he said, cupping her cunt with one hand. “Do I taste my mate now like a greedy male?” His fingers stroked her silken folds. “Or do I undress my mate and savor all her beauty? Such choices. I am a fortunate male.”

“No bad decisions there,” she said, gasping as his fingers probed her hot, tight channel.

He pumped his hand, relishing the sight of her stretch around his digits and wanted to know how she would look, and sound stretched and stuffed full of his cock. He added two fingers, then three, until he felt her thighs quiver. When he withdrew, she spun around and watched him lick his fingers clean.

“Delicious,” he said, voice rumbling. “I would see all of you.”

She sat up, kneeling, and raised her arms. He lifted the sweater and threw it to the ground. The band of the brasserie fell away. His mate was nude, waiting for his kiss. For him.

“What is that?”

Wyn:

Wow. Mood killer.

Wyn slung an arm over her chest and turned. “What? My tattoos? I told you I had two of them.” She didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but maybe it was cultural, like accepting food implied an intimate relationship. Maybe the Mahdfel got all weird about women with tattoos.

He turned her back around, his large hands moving her gently.

Or was it her love handles? Oh, God. Did she have rolls of back fat? She never really got a good look at her back in a mirror.

“Your magpies. Two for joy,” he said.

Wyn ducked her head down and smiled. He remembered.

“May I touch them? The design is impressive.”

“Yes, and thank you. I drew them myself.” She gave the tattoo artist her sketch of two magpies, both in flight and facing each other. The bodies of the birds were composed of a swirling design, small and repeated. Soft swathes of blue ink colored the feather, and the white feathers remained empty, negative space.

Lorran’s fingers traced the outline of the magpies on her back left shoulder. “Remarkable. Shrug your shoulders.” She complied. “They move as if in flight. This is highly skilled.”

She glowed from the compliment. “Thank you. Took hours and hours.” Despite the relatively small size, the detail took time to fill in.

“Does this mark an occasion?” he asked.

“An occasion? Not really. I got them after I graduated from school.” Wyn had wanted the tattoo for a long time, since she was a teen, but knew her parents would never pay for something like that. After graduating, she saved from her paychecks to afford the tattoos. It was her treat to herself.

“They are lovely, but only a fraction as lovely as you,” Lorran said, pressing a kiss to the magpies. “But now I demand my kiss.”

He pushed her down onto her belly. Firm hands squeezed her ass and separated the cheeks. Wyn lifted her hips, pushing back against him. He kissed and nipped her flesh, sending little jolts up her spine.

His tongue swept around the rim to her back entrance. She gasped at the warm pleasure of the sensation and then jolted when his tongue probed in.

Her big bad alien was a virgin, and he was dirty.

He licked and sucked until she melted into a puddle of oversensitive goo. Her clit ached. She tucked a hand under to rub. Lorran noticed and growled, his face right against her pussy, and the rumble of that made her clench.

He flipped her onto her back, tossed her legs over his shoulders and dove face first into her pussy. He licked and sucked with more enthusiasm than technique, but it was working for her. Really, really well.

She spread her hand on his head, then grabbed him by the horn. This seemed to spur him into overdrive. He licked harder on her clit, and she ached.

Oh, she wanted him to fuck her, to give her a good pounding, but boundaries. Whose silly idea had that been? Oh, right. Hers.

“Your fingers,” she gasped, “in me. I need them.”

He pulled back, as if to study her terrain. Wyn briefly wondered if he was the kind of guy who took offense when their partner gave direction. Not that she’d had a ton of partners—one, really—and he hadn’t been too interested in doing what Wyn needed.

“Like this?” He pushed a finger inside her core, crooking it in a come-hither motion. And she did.

“Yes!” Wyn arched up, clenching, and letting the sensation wash over her. Lorran gave a few curious pumps, watching her reaction. “Now lick my clit again. Slowly.”

Damn. Just, wow and fireworks and cramped feet. He kept a steady pace even as she squeezed his horns and cried out when her climax crashed over her.

He paused, waiting for her to still. Pressing a kiss to her inside thigh, he crawled onto the bed next to her. He stroked her hair and her face, a bemused if slightly smug expression on his face.

“My mate,” he murmured. His hands caressed her arms, stomach, hips, and legs, as if mapping her body. He showered her with light kisses, musky with her own flavor.

“Why are you still wearing clothes? This is happy naked time.”

“It is for me. I am incredibly happy about your nakedness.”

“I see.” She brushed her hand against his cock straining the front of his trousers. “Off. Get these off.”

“You do not need to—”

“I want to. Have you had a blowjob?”

“No,” he said quickly, voice almost strangled.

She rolled onto her knees. “I want to taste you.”

That seemed to do the trick. He unfastened his pants and pushed them down, freeing his cock. It bobbed in front of her, the head leaking. Up close, she had to admit it was noteworthy and more than a little intimidating.

Wyn gripped the base, taking her time as she inspected him. Ridges ran up and down his shaft. She gave an experimental stroke, finding the ridge had enough give to be pliable but felt firm.

“These look promising,” she said, before licking a wide swath up the side. The bumps tickled her tongue. Lorran’s entire body tensed, and he gave a long, low hiss.

“Good?” she asked, pulling off to look up.

He bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Very good.”

“If it’s too much, let me know.” She had no expectations of him lasting long. She wanted Lorran to enjoy himself, and she wanted to hear the sounds he’d make with his dick down her throat.

She circled the head, sweeping her tongue across and lapping up his precum. A salty, musky taste filled her senses. Yes, very good.

She licked up and down his length before swallowing him, taking as much of him as possible. His fingers twisted in her hair. Try as she might, she couldn’t fit all of him in her mouth unless she suddenly developed the ability to unhinge her jaw. One hand stroked, and the other cupped his balls, giving them a squeeze.

Lorran’s breath quickened. His grip in her hair tightened, pulling and tugging. His cock twitched under her tongue.

“I’m—” he warned, but she did not pull away. She wanted every drop of him.

He came with a shout, flooding her mouth.

Wyn paused, waiting for him to empty. His grip loosened on her head and she swallowed.

He sank to his knees and kissed her deeply. For a moment, she wanted to push him away because gross. If the taste of himself bothered him, Lorran gave no sign. He claimed her mouth like it was the greatest gift he ever received, and maybe it was, not to sound conceited.

He pressed his forehead to hers and gave a happy sigh.

“I am so going to enjoy practicing with you,” she murmured.

“My forever,” he answered. “My home. My mate.”