Page 6 of Accidentally Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #1)

Zeph

I am experiencing what I can only describe as complete system failure.

The climax Jake just gave me has left my entire nervous system firing in chaotic patterns, the bioluminescence under my skin still pulsing in fading waves as I struggle to remember basic functions like breathing.

My hands are trembling as I gently guide Jake's mouth away from my oversensitive flesh, and when I look down at him, still on his knees, lips swollen and glistening, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, something fundamental shifts in my chest.

"That was..." I begin, then realize that no Nereidan vocabulary exists for what just occurred.

Jake slowly gets to his feet, using my thighs for support, and I have to steady him when he sways slightly. "Incredible?" he suggests, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb in a gesture that makes my spent cock twitch with renewed interest. "Mind-blowing? Life-altering?"

"Unprecedented," I manage, reaching up to touch his face with hands that are still not entirely steady.

"Unprecedented, huh?" Jake grins as he stands, and I notice immediately that he is still aroused, his cock jutting out from his open jeans, flushed and leaking. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The sight of his arousal sends a new wave of heat through me, different from before but no less intense. Through the empathic connection that seems to have strengthened considerably during our intimate contact, I can feel the edge of his desire, the way his body is thrumming with unfulfilled need.

"Jake," I say, my voice rougher than intended, "you are still..."

"Yeah, well, turns out giving head to a gorgeous glowing alien is pretty arousing," Jake says with that casual directness that I am learning to both expect and treasure. "Who knew?"

I study his face, searching for any sign of discomfort or expectation. In Nereidan culture, intimate encounters are typically reciprocal, pleasure given and received in equal measure. But Jake seems genuinely unconcerned with his own state, as if his satisfaction came entirely from my response.

"Do you not require... attention?" I ask carefully.

"Require? No. But would I like it? Absolutely." Jake's grin turns slightly wicked. "Though I should probably warn you, I'm pretty worked up. Might not take much."

The honesty in his admission makes the glow under my skin pulse brighter. "I would very much like to touch you," I tell him. "If you will permit it."

"Permit it? Zeph, I've been fantasizing about your hands on me since approximately ten minutes after we met."

"Ten minutes?" I am genuinely curious about this timeline.

"Yeah, right around the time you did that head-tilt thing when you were confused about human dating customs." Jake reaches up to touch my face, his fingers tracing along the fading luminescence on my cheekbone. "You have very attractive hands. And arms. And... well, everything, really."

The casual compliment makes warmth spread through my chest in a way that has nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with the growing certainty that Jake Morrison is unlike any being I have ever encountered.

"Your responsiveness is..." I pause, trying to find adequate words. "I could feel what you were feeling. Your pleasure in giving me pleasure. It was..."

"Intense?" Jake supplies.

"Revelatory," I correct. "In Nereidan intimate encounters, the empathic connection allows us to sense our partner's physical responses, but with you, it was more than that. I could feel your emotional satisfaction, your genuine enjoyment of my reactions."

Jake's expression grows thoughtful. "Is that unusual?"

"Extremely. Most intimate connections focus on physical sensation and immediate pleasure. But you..." I touch his face, marveling at the warmth of his skin. "You derive genuine happiness from giving pleasure. It is not merely a means to an end for you."

"No, it's not," Jake agrees quietly. "I like making people feel good. I like being the reason someone loses control."

"You certainly succeeded in that objective," I tell him, and his answering smile makes the glow under my skin flare again.

"Good." Jake glances down at himself, then back up at me with raised eyebrows. "So, about that touching you mentioned..."

I follow his gaze to his arousal, then look back at his face. "How would you prefer to be touched?"

"However you want to touch me," Jake says immediately. "I'm not picky. I'm just..." He gestures vaguely at his erection. "Pretty desperate at this point."

The blunt admission sends heat racing through my system. "Jake, may I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Earlier, when I called you a good boy, your response was... significant. Was that your first experience with that particular form of praise?"

Jake's cheeks flush pink, which is fascinating given his general lack of embarrassment about most topics. "Yeah, that was... unexpected. I had no idea I was into that."

"And how do you feel about the discovery?"

"How do I feel about learning that my gorgeous alien roommate calling me a good boy makes me harder than I've ever been in my life?" Jake grins. "I feel like I want to explore that discovery very thoroughly."

The frankness of his response makes my cock, which had barely begun to soften, take renewed interest in the proceedings. "In that case," I say, wrapping my hand around his erection and enjoying the way his breath catches, "let me show you how good you have been."

Jake's response is immediate and gratifying, his head falls back, his hands grip my shoulders for support, and through the empathic connection, I feel the spike of his pleasure as clearly as if it were my own.

"Fuck," he breathes, his hips jerking into my touch. "Your hands are..."

"Are what?"

"Perfect," Jake manages. "Hot and perfect and... oh god, right there."

I file away this information for future reference, adjusting my grip and rhythm based on both his verbal feedback and the emotional echoes I am receiving through our connection. His arousal tastes different in my mind than my own, brighter somehow, more immediate and uncomplicated.

The natural lubrication that coats my skin when I am aroused has transferred to my hands, making my strokes smooth and slick. Jake seems fascinated by this, looking down to watch the way my hands glide over him with an expression of wonder and desperate arousal.

"Is that...?" he starts to ask, then loses the words as I twist my wrist in a particular way that makes him gasp.

"From before," I explain, maintaining the rhythm that seems to drive him highest. "We produce more than enough for... extended activities."

"Extended activities," Jake repeats with a breathless laugh. "I love the way you talk about sex like it's a research project."

"Is it not a form of research?" I ask, genuinely curious, and the question makes him moan.

"God, you're going to kill me," he says, his hips bucking into my grip. "Only you could make dirty talk sound like an academic inquiry."

I lean closer, speaking directly into his ear while maintaining the steady rhythm of my hand. "Then perhaps I should conduct a more thorough investigation. Test various hypotheses about what brings you the most pleasure."

Jake shudders against me. "What kind of hypotheses?"

"For instance," I murmur, changing my grip slightly and watching his reaction, "I hypothesize that you respond particularly well to pressure here." I focus my attention on the head of his cock, using my thumb to trace patterns that make him gasp and shake.

"Fuck, yes," Jake confirms breathlessly.

"And I believe," I continue, using my other hand to trace along his hip bone, "that you enjoy multiple points of stimulation simultaneously."

"You believe correctly," Jake manages, his voice strained with pleasure.

"You are remarkably responsive," I tell him, fascinated by the way his face changes as pleasure builds. "So honest about what you want. I can feel through our connection how much you enjoy this, not just the physical sensation, but the way I am learning you."

"Keep talking," Jake gasps, his grip on my shoulders tightening. "Your voice... I love your voice."

"Do you?" I lean closer, speaking directly into his ear while my hands continue their work. "Do you like the way I sound when I tell you how beautiful you are like this? How much I enjoy watching you come apart under my hands?"

Jake makes a sound that is somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and I feel his pleasure spike higher through the connection.

"I can feel what you feel," I continue, my voice low and intimate. "The way your entire body responds to my touch. The way your mind goes quiet when I do this." I increase the pressure slightly, and his back arches.

"Yes," he breathes. "Fuck, yes."

"Such a good boy," I murmur, and his entire body shudders. "Taking everything I give you, asking for more. So eager to please."

Through the empathic connection, I can sense that he is close, his pleasure building to a crescendo that threatens to overwhelm us both. I adjust my rhythm, using everything I have learned about his responses to drive him higher.

"That's it," I encourage, my own arousal building again from the feedback loop of his pleasure. "Let me feel how good this is for you."

Jake's breathing becomes ragged, his movements less coordinated as he chases his climax. "Zeph, I'm going to, I can't—"

"Then come," I tell him simply. "Come for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

And he does, with a cry that echoes off the walls, his release coating my hand and his stomach as his whole body trembles through the climax.

Through the empathic connection, I experience every wave of his pleasure, and it is almost enough to bring me to climax again just from the intensity of his response.

The aftershocks seem to go on forever, small tremors of pleasure that I feel as clearly as he does, until finally he goes limp against me, breathing hard and looking thoroughly debauched.

I look down at my hand, coated with his release, and without really thinking about it, I bring my fingers to my mouth and lick them clean. The taste is uniquely Jake;slightly salty, but with an underlying sweetness that is quite pleasant.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jake says, his voice strangled.

I pause, suddenly concerned. "Is there a problem?"

"Problem?" Jake stares at me with an expression I cannot quite identify. "Zeph, that's the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Cleaning my hands?"

"Licking my come off your fingers like it's the most natural thing in the world," Jake clarifies, and his breathing has picked up again despite having just climaxed. "Do you have any idea what that shit does to me?"

I study his face, noting the renewed flush across his cheekbones and the way his pupils have dilated again. "I am beginning to understand that you have many previously undiscovered preferences."

"You think?" Jake laughs, shaky and breathless. "First the praise thing, now this. I'm starting to wonder what other kinks you're going to accidentally unlock."

"I was not attempting to unlock anything," I say honestly. "I simply did not wish to waste anything of you."

His eyes flutter closed and he makes a small, desperate sound. "You're going to be the death of me."

"I certainly hope not," I tell him seriously. "I am finding you far too interesting to lose."

"Wow," Jake says eventually, his voice rough. "That was..."

"Unprecedented?" I suggest with a small smile.

"Yeah," he agrees, looking up at me with an expression that seems somehow softer than before. "Definitely unprecedented."

I help him clean up, then guide him to the seating area where we settle together, Jake curled against my side in a way that feels remarkably natural. The bioluminescence has faded to a gentle glow, and the quarters feel peaceful in a way they never have before.

"Zeph?" Jake says quietly.

"Yes?"

"I think we might be past the compatibility testing phase."

I consider this observation seriously. "I believe you may be correct."

"So what happens now?"

It is an excellent question, and one that I find I am eager to explore. "Now," I say, tightening my arms around him, "we figure out what comes next. Together."

"Together," Jake repeats, and through the lingering empathic connection, I feel his contentment mix with something that might be hope.

"Together," I confirm, and realize that I have never meant anything more in my life.