Page 9 of Defiance (The Intersolar Union #7)

Everywhere Novak looked, Charlie’s chemia decorated the air in bright magenta spots, blanketing her in a halo that dripped sex. It coated his hands where he held her thighs, keeping her balanced over one shoulder. It made his colear? tingle where he’d rubbed his muzzle against the blood rushing just beneath the surface of her wrist.

Charlie was so potent. So willing.

May you find me anywhere, anytime.

His abdomen clenched painfully where his cloaca was hidden beneath his plume mail, helices swollen and desperate to spin.

We’re using her as bait, Ferulis had said when he called to check if what Vin had told him wasn’t actual shit. Make her your quarry. Get it done. And don’t call again, Agent Gaul. I trust you to handle it.

If Ferulis thought handling it meant fucking her in the mud, then he deserved top commendations.

“My chair,”

she gasped, breasts heaving against his shoulder.

“It won’t sink.”

Novak snapped his tail around the chair and expanded it with a flick. It clattered to the river rocks and clay, and he kicked it back upright.

Then he froze, clenching his fangs together so hard that he tasted blood. His vision blurred as blood rushed in his ears, cocks, fangs, and claws. He tightened his grip on Charlie’s legs, eliciting a whimper from somewhere behind his head.

“No struggling,”

he managed like his mouth was full of angry razorblades. “My bite—”

“Can’t be worse than getting a fecking linguitor,”

Charlie breathed, her solar plexus jammed into his shoulder.

“Just don’t nick an artery.”

Novak swayed, all of his senses on overdrive. The truth was he didn’t know if it was worse. Anonymous hands and lust-fueled gazes were the grand sum of his experience. Advenan men were kept on a tight leash in the Union. Too profitable to deport, but too beastly to trust.

Novak dropped Charlie in her chair and she bounced, squeezing her knees together.

They looked at each other and Novak found that familiar feeling from the bullpens hidden in the shadows of his soul. This could be like that, he decided, unlatching his pants. A numbness washed over him, seeing how Charlie wanted not him, but an erotic novelty. Her trepidation and lust mixed together in her halo, a cocktail he recognized.

His pants fell open and his cloaca bulged, warping his plumes. He pushed the soft opening down, and all three of his helices spilled out, curling in the air like wet tongues.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open. Such an invitation made him rumble in excitement.

“Holy shite.”

Novak grinned, breathing in her chemia until her edges glowed like burning parchment. The crackle and burn was almost audible, igniting his plumes.

“Turn around, Charlie.”

“I-I only have one…one, ah…”

Novak licked his fangs and tasted the air, a drop of venom landing on Charlie’s knee. He slipped his fingers around his helices and squeezed them together until they spun into a single spiral. They throbbed in his grip, bumping and clashing against each other in chaotic excitement. He gripped them hard and lubrication oozed along the seams of their spiral.

“Turn around.”

Charlie swallowed hard, her halo of lust thickening. Novak squinted into the haze of her chemia, hallucinating daylight from the strength of the burn. The sky was turquoise and the water bright green. The rocks and ferns were neon pink and yellow, swaying back and forth as he tilted his head. Could his muzzle orgasm? Because his colear? throbbed, pumping venom into his fangs until it was too uncomfortable to keep his mouth closed.

A single clear thought echoed in Novak’s mind. He didn’t need to go further. Charlie was his quarry now, burning his senses to char. She overexposed every nerve-ending from the tip of his tail to the tips of his ears. He could tell her it was enough. He could leave.

Charlie turned over, planting her knees on the chair seat, her forearms on the back rest. She looked back at him as her plait of copper silk slid off her shoulders.

Novak curled his tail around her thighs in a figure-eight, cinching them closed, and sliced open the black fabric hiding her cloaca. Beneath was a puckered entrance with a long, vertical slit, plump and glistening like a persici fruit. His knees went weak at the sight, reality crashing into his chest at full force.

He was on the Hunt, quarry trembling beneath him.

May you find me anywhere, anytime.

The agent groaned at the memory of her words, pumping his cock in a slow death grip. He took some of his own lubricant, a thing he never gave himself enough time to accumulate when donating, and spread it over her cloaca, testing her impossibly tight entrance. Perhaps it would ease open if—

Charlie slapped a hand over the pucker, cheeks red with heat.

“Not this one,”

she panted, biting her bottom lip swollen.

Novak slid the pad of one finger down the length of the long crease instead, gathering slippery fluid as his claw parted her thighs.

“This then?”

His quarry nodded, leaning her cheek on the back of the chair. She fisted her own hip, pulling the slit open enough for him to see and scent. Saliva pooled in his mouth, his own venom making him drunk.

Novak loomed over Charlie’s back, his thighs caging in her calves, and opened his jaws for her to see. His fangs extended from the roof of his mouth, dripping, their roots swollen red. Her eyes went wide, pulse racing. He felt more than saw the tremor in her limbs as he gripped her hand on her hip, trapping it in his grasp so that she had to bear some of his weight as he blanketed her back.

She was so hot to the touch. Scorching.

Novak fitted his fangs over her shoulder and their roots pumped freely like an orgasm. They sank into the top of her breast as his other teeth clamped down on the meat of her trapezius, holding her in place.

Charlie’s breath hitched in pain, tendons tight as bow strings in an effort not to move.

Then she groaned, going loose beneath him.

“Oooh my god,”

she slurred, swaying on her knees.

Novak’s plume mail erupted across his back, shoulders, and the length of his tail like curved knives, shivering in excitement and victory. He milked his venom sacs with his tongue, pushing it up against them to empty them both into Charlie’s lymphatic system. Her hips pushed back against his groin.

Every clear thought vacated as Novak lined himself up, painting Charlie’s slit as he spread her lips and searched for… for… yes. A dip. An entrance. It was smaller than him, but when he notched his tapered three-part head against it, Charlie pushed back, swallowing him inch by tight inch.

Novak pulled his fangs out of her breast and clutched her waist in his longer fingers, staring with blurred, intoxicated vision at where their bodies joined.

His brow creased, a snarl exposing his teeth in disbelief. Though he was frozen in a heady mix of fear and victory, Charlie, delirious on his venom, moved of her own accord. He watched as her body swallowed his helices, sucking him in little by little until their hips bumped with a delicious, wet sound.

Then he was rocking his hips on instinct to meet her. Stiff at first, jolting hard enough that she bowed her spine out, lowering her cloaca. He pushed down on the small of her back to arch her ass up and clenched his stomach, rolling into her in a smoother stroke.

“Yes!”

she gasped, holding onto her chair with white knuckles, tension drawing out the fine lines around her eyes and mouth as her lips fell open.

Novak growled in victory and drove his muzzle into her neck. His tail wound through her legs and skirt, cutting across the soft dip of her belly, twining through her fingers. His arms and shoulders bulged from the effort of holding himself up while he hammered into her and soaked up her chemia.

The small of his back pulled taut and his hips flexed. His shaft grew harder, longer, the seams tingling, ready to come.

Novak groaned into Charlie’s throat as his helices strangled each other in release. His seed soaked his shaft, dripping from her cloaca to the chair and clay. He slid in and out of their shared fluids with relish as the scent mingled in his colear?, branding her.

Then his tongue flicked out and brushed the taste of iron. His eyes flew open, fixating on two trails of red that soaked the front of Charlie’s dress. His pupils contracted to slits, the scent burn receding. The psychedelic colors and sensitivity to light faded, leaving his eyesight dull and dark. It was enough for him to smell other scratches and damaged capillaries beneath her translucent flesh.

“That was grand,”

she murmured intimately, her breath tickling his muzzle.

Novak pulled out and stumbled back a step, his helices wet and cold in the air as they slowly lost the strength to spin. He stared at Charlie’s cloaca and the claw marks he’d left on her hips. The sweet slit was swollen as seed dribbled onto her bound thighs, marked with a twinge of red human blood. He clamped down on his plume mail, hugging it tight to his flesh and unwrapped his tail from her ankles and legs. Angry little knicks blossomed on her skin where he’d wrapped the dangerous appendage too tightly.

But she was still smiling, completely unaware with her forearms crossed beneath her cheek and her hands limp.

“You’re bleeding,”

he ground out, using his trembling hands to extract his tail.

“S’alright,”

she managed.

“It felt good.”

“Good...”

Novak stared at her bloodied ankles, his ears turned backwards, nostrils closed tight. He held the end of his tail in an iron fist as it tried to wrestle free.

“Mm,”

Charlie confirmed, stretching her back with a hiss of discomfort.

“If you ever want to go on another date—”

Novak stared at his marks. “I won’t,”

he promised.

Charlie inhaled sharply and sat back on her calves, hiding her womanhood from him. She wasn’t smiling anymore, instead brushing her silk away from her face, looping it behind the round shells of her ears with sudden sobriety.

“Oh, um.”

She cleared her throat.

“Right. Forgot this was an arrangement. Sorry for assuming—”

Standing up, she stumbled barefoot in the clay while Novak stood as still as a statue.

“For feck’s sake,”

she admonished herself.

“Meet me on the tarmac tomorrow at sixth turn,”

Novak said in a detached tone that hid his panic.

“Sixth turn, got it.”

She pressed her lips together in a human smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Best not linger, Agent Gaul. Someone may get the wrong idea.”

Novak bobbed his head in a sharp nod then fled for the treeline and his fake patrol like a coward. His tail snatched the bag full of things she’d brought for him in defiance as he left his quarry to fend for herself. Bruised, bleeding, and ruined in a mess of his own making.