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“You take me so well,” I pant out.

I throb at the juncture of my thighs as I feel the tight hold and resistance against my fingers. I’m only able to fit two fingers in and fold my ring and pinky fingers close to my palm so I can reach the terminus and the slick, delicate membrane.

From my experiments the last time, I know that stroking from the top then down and around, in aCshape, but with the one on my right backward, elicits the most excited chittering.

With each stroke, I increase the pressure and speed, my clit throbbing in time with my rising excitement. Kroaicho is holding back zha’s expellent until zha’s release. I want to make this as pleasurable for zha as possible, but the idea of pulling a long breath of that heady scent into my body and exploding with pleasure makes me impatient.

Every few strokes of my fingers I have to remind myself to slow down, but after a while I’m too caught up in how low Kroaicho’s chitters are to pay attention to taking it slow.

“Let go for me,” I order.

Immediately, Kroaicho starts shuddering and suddenly lets out a bellowing breath, the mist of zha’s expellent invading my lungs and making neurons fire.

I thrash, my moans echoing in the cave as the waves of orgasms hit.

36

Kroaicho

Oliviaisstillholdingtight to my tusks as my release pulses through me. As it recedes, I focus on the sounds zha is making. Ones I never thought would ever bring me satisfaction, but they do. Zha has lost control, wriggling in my arms and it is a singularly delightful sensation.

I take in a long breath, appreciating the musky way zha smells as soon as my expellent is released.

Suddenly, Olivia stops thrashing, zha’s back arching. Zha’s eyes open wide, then zha coughs. And coughs again.

My skin lights blue, then red, but before I can ask if zha needs help, I see the expellent wafting from zha’s small nose.

I have no time to wonder at it before it reaches me. Olivia’s fingers are still stroking me as the tremors of pleasure hit, rippling along my limbs, making my body jerk.

The expellent is in my upper segment, begging to be pulled in farther. The temptation to open up my inner membranes and pull it all the way down into my lower segment is almost overwhelming.

After all of the missed mating seasons, this is my chance.

This is exactly what a zhasie does. Exactly what my zhann would expect of me. There is no guarantee there will ever be another opportunity…

But then I remember my conversation with Olivia and our agreement and I push back my instinct, ensuring that my middle and lower segment membranes remain tightly shut.

I let myself simply enjoy the thrumming, rolling sensations of Olivia’s expellent in my upper segment as long as it lasts, finally realizing that zha is trying to speak with me.

“Kroaicho! What did I do? You said it can be a weapon. Oh myGod. Kroaicho!” zha says frantically.

When I open my eyes, there is wetness trailing zha’s face, skin lighting purple and pink.

“I am well, Olivia,” I assure zha. “You used the correct mix.”

“Oh fuck, Kroaicho. I don’t even know how to fucking mix whatever that is. I could kill you!” zha hisses back.

“No, you can’t,” I counter.

“Oh no… did I just get you pregnant? I’m not ready for that. I mean, I will, but I’m not—”

I stop Olivia before zha causes mental harm. “There will be no zhannel until we are both ready.”

Zha’s small forehead wrinkles. “You can control that?”

“Yes, easily,” I respond. “We will do this many, many times. I will do exactly as you say.”

She snorts. “You can tell me to do things too.”