Page 26 of Accidentally Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #1)
Jake
I've been staring at the same job application for forty minutes, the words blurring together in a meaningless jumble.
Something about "implementing evidence-based therapeutic interventions in a client-centered environment.
" Two beers in and it sounds like corporate bullshit designed to make glorified listening seem revolutionary.
Ten days. Ten days since I came back. Ten days of trying to reach Zeph through the communicator, of straining to feel something, anything, through our empathic bond. Ten days of absolutely nothing.
I take another swig of beer. Not enough to get drunk, just enough to dull the hollow ache in my chest that never seems to go away.
Sleep deprivation is doing the rest, blurring the edges of reality into something almost dreamlike.
If I close my eyes, I can almost feel the gentle current of the cleansing pools, almost smell that spicy-sweet scent that clung to Zeph's skin.
Almost, but not quite.
The communicator sits on the coffee table, silent and useless. I've tried everything, holding it different ways, whispering to it, shouting at it, sleeping with it under my pillow. Nothing works. Either it's broken, or Zeph isn't listening.
Or he's forgotten me already.
I close the laptop, giving up on the job application. What's the point? Even if I get an interview, I'll just be going through the motions. Nothing feels real anymore. Nothing feels important.
"Fuck this," I mutter, picking up the communicator again. "One more try, and then I'm done."
I don't know why I'm still trying. Hope, probably. That most persistent and annoying of human emotions.
I close my fingers around the smooth stone, focusing on the faint vibration that tells me it's still active. I close my eyes, trying to reach through the void, trying to find that connection that felt so vivid just days ago.
I'm still here. I'm still waiting. Please, just give me something. Anything.
Nothing. Not even the faintest echo.
"Fine," I say to the empty room, tossing the communicator back onto the coffee table. "Message received. Or not received. Whatever."
I lean back on the couch, exhaustion dragging at my limbs. Maybe tonight I'll finally sleep. Maybe exhaustion and beer will do what willpower couldn't. I let my eyes close, just for a moment.
I don't know how long I've been dozing when a familiar blue light begins to seep under my eyelids.
Great. Now I'm dreaming about the abduction. My subconscious isn't exactly subtle.
The light intensifies, and I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, not wanting to wake up. Dream-Zeph is better than no Zeph at all. But the light only grows brighter, pulsing in a pattern I recognize from that first night. Not a dream-light. A real light.
I force my eyes open, sitting up so fast my head spins.
The blue light is filling my living room, emanating from a central point that's beginning to take shape. A form coalescing out of pure energy, tall and broad-shouldered and achingly familiar.
Zeph.
For a moment, I can't move, can't breathe, can't do anything but stare as he materializes fully in my living room.
He's wearing what looks like formal attire, deep blue with silver accents that make his skin look even more otherworldly.
His golden eyes find mine immediately, and even across the room, I can see the emotion in them.
"Jake," he says, my name carrying a weight that breaks whatever paralysis was holding me in place.
I don't speak. I don't think. I just move, launching myself across the room and into him with enough force that he actually takes a step back.
My hands find his face, his shoulders, his chest, making sure he's real, that he's actually here, before I crush my mouth against his in a kiss that's as much anger as it is relief.
He responds immediately, arms wrapping around me with that inhuman strength, lifting me slightly off the floor as he returns the kiss with equal desperation.
The moment our lips touch, the empathic bond flares back to life, a burst of sensation so intense it makes my knees buckle.
All those emotions I couldn't feel across the void suddenly rushing back, his relief, his joy, his hunger.
"You're here," I manage to gasp against his mouth. "You're actually fucking here."
"I am here," Zeph confirms, his voice rougher than I've ever heard it. His hands are everywhere, as desperate as mine to confirm this is real. "Jake, I—"
"No," I interrupt, already tugging at the fastenings of his formal clothes. "No talking. Not yet."
I don't want explanations or apologies or whatever diplomatic speech he's prepared. I want him. Now. After ten days of nothing, of emptiness, I need to feel him.
I grab his hand and pull him toward my bedroom, my fingers working frantically at the complicated closures of his formal attire.
By the time we cross the threshold, I've managed to get his jacket off and his shirt open.
The sight of his blue-tinged skin glowing beneath my touch sends a surge of possessiveness through me so intense it's almost frightening.
"On the bed," I command, pushing him backward until his legs hit the mattress. "Now."
Zeph complies immediately, his golden eyes never leaving mine as he sits, then reclines on my rumpled sheets.
The contrast is striking, this formal, otherworldly being sprawled across my Target bedding, his chest already glowing with arousal, his expression a mixture of desire and surprise at my sudden dominance.
I strip off my t-shirt and climb onto the bed, straddling him.
My hands push his shirt the rest of the way open, exposing more of that beautiful skin that lights up golden wherever I touch.
When I lean down to kiss him again, it's less frantic but no less intense, a claiming, a reestablishing of connection.
"I missed you," I breathe against his mouth, my hands exploring every inch of exposed skin. "I tried to reach you. Every fucking day."
"I know," Zeph says, his hands sliding up my bare back. "I felt it. I could not respond—"
"Later," I insist, moving my mouth to his neck, tasting the salt-sweet flavor of his skin. "Explanations later."
I work my way down his chest, my tongue tracing patterns that make his bioluminescence flare brighter. When I reach the waistband of his formal pants, I look up to find him watching me with an intensity that steals my breath.
"Let me," I say, and it's not quite a question but not quite a demand either.
Zeph nods, understanding immediately what I'm asking. "Yes," he says simply.
My hands work at the fastenings of his pants, pulling them down his long legs along with whatever serves as Nereidan underwear.
When he's finally naked beneath me, I take a moment just to look at him, the lean strength of his body, the blue-tinted skin now glowing golden with arousal, the impressive length of his cock already glistening with that natural lubricant that makes everything so much better.
"You're beautiful," I tell him, and I mean it. He's alien and strange and the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen.
I kick off my sweatpants and settle between his legs, running my hands along his inner thighs.
The glow beneath his skin follows my touch, creating trails of light that pulse in time with his breathing.
When I lean down to take him in my mouth, the sound he makes is somewhere between a gasp and a moan, his back arching off the bed.
The taste of him is exactly as I remember, sweet and clean, with that strange alien tang that's become so familiar. His natural lubricant makes it easy to take him deeper than I normally could, and I collect some of the slick substance that's coating his shaft on my fingers.
Without breaking rhythm, I slide my slick fingers lower, circling his entrance while I continue working him with my mouth. Zeph makes a startled sound of pleasure, his hips jerking slightly at the dual sensation.
"Jake," he gasps, one hand tangling in my hair as I press the first finger inside him. "Oh—"
I hum around his cock, the vibration making him writhe beneath me as I slowly work my finger deeper.
His body is hot and tight around the intrusion, but the natural lubricant makes the glide easy.
When I feel him relaxing, I add a second finger, curling them to search for the spots that make his bioluminescence flare brighter.
The glow beneath his skin pulses in waves now, synchronized with my movements as I work him open while continuing to suck him. His thighs tremble on either side of my head, and through our empathic bond, I can feel the overwhelming pleasure of the dual stimulation.
"Please," he begs, his formal speech patterns breaking down completely. "Jake, I need—I need you inside me. I never stopped wanting you. Never stopped feeling for you."
I pull back, my lips releasing him with an obscene pop, but instead of immediately crawling up his body, I take my time, dragging my tongue up his abdomen, stopping to bite at his ribs.
His skin tastes faintly of salt and something alien I can't name, and every place my mouth touches leaves a brighter trail of golden light.
Zeph's hands find my hair, fingers tangling in the strands with desperate need as I work my way higher.
When I reach his chest, I let my teeth graze one nipple, then bite down just hard enough to make him arch off the bed.
The sound he makes, halfway between a gasp and a growl, sends heat straight to my cock.
"Jake," he hisses, nails digging into my scalp. "Don't tease—"
"Not teasing," I murmur against his skin, moving to the other nipple while maintaining the rhythm of my fingers inside him. "Just making up for lost time."