Page 18 of Accidentally Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #1)
We move together, finding a perfect rhythm, the empathic bond creating a feedback loop of sensation that builds with each thrust. I can feel what he feels, the tight heat of my body around him, the way my inner muscles clench when he hits just the right spot, and he can feel what I feel, the perfect pressure of his cock against my prostate, the dual stimulation of his hand stroking me in time with our movements.
It's sex, yes, but it's also something else, a conversation without words, a promise without hope, a goodbye neither of us is ready to say.
"I'm close," I warn him, my thighs beginning to tremble as heat builds at the base of my spine. "So close, Zeph, I can feel you—"
"Let go," he urges, his thumb sliding over the head of my cock in a way that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. "Let me feel you come apart."
When release finally hits, it's less like an explosion and more like a wave, washing through both of us simultaneously, amplified by the empathic bond until it's almost too much to bear.
I cry out his name as I come across his chest and stomach, and he responds with mine, his cock pulsing inside me as his own orgasm crashes through him.
For a moment, just a moment, it feels like we might actually merge into one being, never to be separated.
The empathic bond flares so bright, so intense, that I can't tell where my pleasure ends and his begins, can't distinguish between my emotions and his, can't remember why we're supposed to be two separate people at all.
But then reality reasserts itself, and we're just two bodies, two separate individuals, clinging to each other as if we could somehow prevent the inevitable.
"I don't want to let you go," I admit, my face pressed against his neck, his cock still inside me, my come cooling between our bodies.
His arms tighten around me. "I know."
"What if—" I start, then stop myself. There is no 'what if.' There's only what is, and the knowledge that our time is running out.
We stay like that for a long time, neither of us willing to be the first to pull away. Finally, Zeph shifts beneath me, his hands sliding to support my thighs.
"Hold on to me," he says, his voice low. "I want to take you somewhere."
I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, keeping him inside me, my fingers tangling in his hair as he rises from the bed with seemingly effortless strength. The movement causes his cock to shift inside me, sending a shiver through me.
"Where are we going?" I whisper, still joined with him as intimately as possible.
"To the water," he answers simply. "It helps... clarify thoughts."
He carries me through the ship like that, still connected, my legs around his waist, his hands supporting my weight, his cock buried deep inside me.
It should be awkward or uncomfortable, but it's not.
It's intimate in a way that transcends the physical, as if neither of us can bear the thought of separation, even for a moment.
The cleansing pools are still illuminated with that soft blue-green light, the water gently rippling as if welcoming us back.
Zeph carries me directly into the water, descending the steps without hesitation, until we're both submerged to our shoulders.
The warm water swirls around us as he settles on an underwater ledge, our bodies still joined, my fingers still tangled in his hair.
For a while, we just float there, the gentle current of the pool supporting our weight, the soft glow of the water mingling with Zeph's bioluminescence. I open my mouth to say something, then close it again, not knowing what words could possibly be adequate.
"Tell me about your world," I say finally, my voice barely audible over the soft lapping of the water. "Something I don't know yet. Something I'll never see."
Zeph is quiet for a moment, his golden eyes studying my face as if memorizing it. His hands never still on my body, one palm sliding up my back to rest between my shoulder blades, the other tracing idle patterns on my thigh beneath the water. When he speaks, his voice is gentle, almost hypnotic.
"There are creatures in our deepest waters," he begins, pulling me fractionally closer, as if even the slightest distance between us is too much to bear, "that glow more brilliantly than I ever could.
They live where sunlight cannot reach, where the water grows cold and still, and they create their own constellations beneath the waves. "
I close my eyes, trying to picture it, while his fingers continue their gentle exploration of my skin, trailing across my shoulders, down my arms, back up to brush through my hair with reverent care. "What do they look like?"
"Some are small, no larger than your hand, with tendrils that trail behind them like living silk," Zeph murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along my spine as he speaks, each touch leaving trails of warmth that mirror the creatures he's describing.
"Others are massive, ancient beings that have lived in the depths for centuries, their bodies transparent except for the patterns of light that pulse along their flanks. "
His hand drifts up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair with gentle reverence, as if memorizing its texture. I lean into his touch, desperate for the connection, my own hands clutching at his shoulders, unwilling to let go even for a moment.
His voice washes over me, and I can almost see these creatures, can almost feel the cold, dark water and the unexpected beauty of living light. The gentle current swirls around us as Zeph's other hand traces the curve of my hip, his thumb making small, soothing circles against my skin.
"When I was very young," Zeph continues, drawing me impossibly closer, our foreheads touching as his words vibrate between us, "my creator-parent took me to the Deep Reaches, a canyon in our ocean floor that stretches for hundreds of kilometers."
I shift slightly in his lap, causing his breath to catch. His hands tighten reflexively, one at my waist, one still tangled in my hair, before resuming their restless exploration of my skin.
"We swam down until the pressure made our ears ache and the water turned so cold it burned," he whispers against my temple, his lips brushing my skin between words.
"And there, in that darkness, we witnessed the Great Migration, thousands upon thousands of luminous beings, all moving together in patterns so complex they seemed orchestrated. "
I cling to him, my fingers digging into the solid muscle of his shoulders, my face pressed against his neck where I can feel his pulse, that strange, slightly faster rhythm that I've somehow come to find as comforting as my own heartbeat.
His hands never stop moving, tracing my collarbone, brushing back a strand of wet hair from my forehead, skimming down my sides, as if he's trying to map every inch of me before time runs out.
I can feel the rumble of his voice through our connected bodies, can sense the reverence in his tone. This isn't just a story, it's a treasured memory, something precious he's sharing with me.
"Sometimes I still dream of it," he says softly, his fingers now trailing along my jawline with exquisite tenderness. "The cold and the dark and the unexpected wonder. The feeling of being very small in the presence of something ancient and beautiful."
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, trying not to cry. This is a world I'll never see, experiences I'll never share, a part of him I can only know through stories. I press myself closer to him, trying to absorb his warmth, his essence, through my skin.
"Thank you," I whisper, not trusting my voice with more.
Zeph seems to understand what I'm not saying.
His arms tighten around me, one hand spanning nearly my entire back while the other cups the nape of my neck, and through our empathic bond, I feel a surge of emotion too complex to name, regret and tenderness and something deeper that makes my chest ache.
We stay in the water for what feels like hours, Zeph telling me about his world in that quiet, steady voice while his hands maintain constant contact with my skin.
His fingers trace the line of my spine, brush through my hair, slide along my arms to intertwine with mine.
I respond in kind, mapping the broad planes of his shoulders, the curve of his neck, the sharp angles of his face, committing every detail to memory.
He describes the twin moons that create complex tidal patterns, his palm warm against my cheek as he speaks.
He tells me about the floating cities that rise and fall with the seasons, his fingers trailing down my sides as if counting ribs.
He explains the annual gathering where thousands of Nereidans come together to synchronize their bioluminescence in patterns that can be seen from space, his hands cradling my face as if I'm something precious.
I listen, memorizing every detail, trying to build a picture of his home in my mind while absorbing the sensation of his touch. A place I'll never visit, but that I want to be able to imagine when I'm back on Earth, alone in my apartment with nothing but memories.
Eventually, the ship's announcement breaks the spell, its mechanical voice reminding us that the transportation cycle will be ready soon. Too soon.
Zeph carries me out of the water, our bodies finally separating as he sets me gently on my feet. The loss of connection feels symbolic somehow, a foretaste of the greater separation to come. His hand lingers on the small of my back, unwilling to break contact completely, even as we dry off.
We dry off in silence, both avoiding each other's eyes, as if looking directly at our pain might make it unbearable. Zeph becomes busy suddenly, checking readings, preparing equipment, explaining the process to me in technical terms I only half understand.