Page 10 of Hunted By Khor (Alien Mate Hunt #1)
T he den is bigger than it looked from outside. The main chamber opens into smaller alcoves, each serving a purpose. Storage. Sleeping. The thermal pool that steams in blue-green phosphorescence. All of it carefully prepared, waiting.
“Strip,” Khor says.
Not a request. A command. My body responds immediately, wetness gathering between my legs just from his tone.
“Why?”
“Your wounds need tending. The suit is ruined. And I want to see what's mine.”
That last part makes me clench around nothing. I peel off what's left of the suit, letting it fall in strips. Standing naked before him while he remains clothed in his natural scales feels like power imbalance. Feels right.
He circles me slowly, not touching. Just observing. His golden eyes track every mark he's left. Every bruise. Every scratch from the stones.
“You're leaking,” he observes.
I am. Can feel it on my thighs. The wetness that never stops now, worse since yesterday's seven orgasms that satisfied nothing.
“You left me empty.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when I finally fill you, I want you to remember exactly how empty you were without me.”
He moves to the supplies, pulls out a jar of something that smells medicinal. Returns to stand behind me, close enough I feel his heat but still not touching.
“This will sting.”
The salve does sting. But his fingers on my skin burn worse. He tends each scrape with careful precision, and I have to lock my knees to keep from pressing back against him. He starts with my shoulders. Down my arms. My scraped palms that make me hiss when he applies the medicine.
“Sensitive?”
“Everything's sensitive.”
“Good.”
His hands move to my back. Lower. When he reaches my hips, I can't help the small sound that escapes.
“Already desperate? I've barely touched you.”
“You made me come seven times yesterday then left me with nothing inside me. My body hasn't stopped screaming since.”
“Tell me what it's screaming.”
“You know.”
His hand slides around to my stomach. Not going lower. Just resting there, possessive.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“My body wants you to fill me. Breed me. Claim me. Ruin me for anyone else.” The words pour out without thought. “It wants your cocks inside me until I can't remember what empty feels like.”
“Cocks. Plural. You remember.”
“Hard to forget when they're all I can think about.”
His hand moves lower. Still not where I need it. Just tracing the crease where thigh meets hip.
“You're dripping on my floor.”
I look down. He's right. There's actually a small puddle forming between my feet.
“That's your fault.”
“Everything about your body is my fault now.” His finger traces through the wetness on my thigh. Brings it to his mouth. Tastes. “You taste different. Sweeter. The tonic is completing its work.”
“What work?”
“Making you perfect for breeding. Your body chemistry is changing to match mine. To need mine.”
His hand finally moves between my legs. Just one finger, tracing my folds but not entering. I try to press against him but he pulls back.
“Stand still.”
“I can't.”
“You will.”
He continues that maddening touch. Barely there. Just enough to make me aware of how swollen I am, how wet, how empty. When his finger brushes my clit, I nearly collapse.
“Responsive.”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Touch me properly.”
“I am touching you.”
“Inside. I need something inside.”
He slides one finger in, and my body clenches around it desperately. So empty for so long that even this small invasion feels enormous.
“You're tighter. The emptiness has made you desperate to hold onto anything.”
He moves that finger slowly. In. Out. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
“More.”
“No.”
“Please. Please, I need more.”
“You need to learn patience.”
“I've been patient for days.”
“You've been performing patience. Now learn to actually feel it.”
A second finger joins the first. The stretch is perfect and insufficient simultaneously. He curls them, finds that spot inside that makes me see stars. Then stops.
“Why?”
“Because I want you to focus. Tell me about Earth. Why you really came here.”
“Now? You're fingering me and you want to talk about Earth?”
“I want you to think through the desperation. Form words while your body screams. Show me your mind is still present even when your cunt is dripping down my hand.”
He moves his fingers again. Slow. Deliberate. Just enough to keep me on edge but not enough to push me over.
“I... Earth is dying. You know that.”
“Tell me what I don't know.”
“My sister. Lily. She's sick. Has been since she was twelve. Genetic disorder that's eating her bones from the inside.”
His fingers continue their maddening rhythm as I talk. Every few words I have to pause, breathe through the pleasure that builds but never crests.
“The surgery costs more than I'd make in three lifetimes. But the Mate Hunt...” I gasp as he adds a third finger. “The credits would save her.”
“So you sold yourself.”
“I traded myself. There's a difference.”
“What difference?”
“Selling implies permanence. Trading means both sides get something.”
His thumb finds my clit, and I nearly scream. But he just rests it there. Not moving. Just pressure.
“What do you get?”
“Besides Lily's life? I get... this. To be something other than responsible. Other than careful. Other than good.”
“You get to be primal.”
“Yes.”
He withdraws his fingers completely. I do scream then, at the loss.
“No! Please, I was answering, I was?—”
“Taste yourself.”
He brings his fingers to my mouth. I suck them clean without hesitation, tasting my own desperation. Sweet like he said, but also musky. Different than on Earth.
“You taste like mine already,” he says. “Your body knows who it belongs to.”
He walks to the thermal pool, leaving me standing there, empty and shaking. Starts removing his own coverings, what little he wears. When his cocks emerge, both fully hard, I make a sound that's pure need.
The breeding cock is massive. Ridged in ways that will destroy me. The pleasure cock beside it dances with those bioluminescent patterns, smaller but still substantial.
“Come here.”
I practically run to him. No dignity left.
“In the water.”
The mineral pool is hot, almost too hot. But it soothes the aches while making my arousal worse. Everything is heightened in the water.
He sits on a carved ledge, water to his waist. Both cocks visible above the surface.
“Kneel.”
I kneel between his legs. The water comes to my breasts, making them float. His hand tangles in my hair.
“You're going to use your mouth.”
“Yes.”
“On both.”
I look at his cocks. The breeding one is too big. I'll choke. But the pleasure one...
I start there. Tongue tracing the patterns that pulse with light. He tastes like the storm. Electric and dangerous. His grip tightens in my hair.
“The other.”
I switch to the breeding cock. Can barely get the head in my mouth. My jaw aches immediately. But the sound he makes, that grinding rumble, makes it worth it. I use my hands on what won't fit, feeling every ridge.
“Your throat. Open it.”
I try. Gag. Try again. He doesn't force, just holds my hair while I work out the angle. When I finally take him deeper, his control slips. Both cocks pulse, leak precum that tastes like that purple fruit but stronger.
“Enough.”
He pulls me off. Lifts me like I weigh nothing, sets me on the pool's edge. Spreads my legs wide.
“My turn.”
His tongue extends. That impossible fork that destroyed me yesterday. But now I can see it properly. Over a foot long, ridged, able to move each fork independently.
“Watch,” he commands.
I watch as his tongue enters me. Both forks, spreading inside, finding different spots. The ridges drag against my walls in ways that make me scream. He doesn't build slowly this time. Goes straight for destruction.
One fork finds my g-spot. The other goes deeper, impossibly deep. His mouth covers my entire pussy, that strange jaw making a seal that means every sound vibrates through me.
I come in seconds.
He doesn't stop.
Keeps working his tongue, adding suction, his teeth carefully grazing my clit. The second orgasm builds before the first ends.
“Please, I can't?—”
He pulls back just enough to speak. “You came seven times yesterday. Today we're going for ten.”
“I'll die.”
“You'll beg.”
His tongue returns. This time one fork stays inside while the other traces my ass. The sensation is too much. Too foreign. Too good.
The third orgasm makes me sob.
The fourth makes me try to crawl away.
He holds me in place for the fifth.
By the sixth, I'm babbling. Begging. Offering anything if he'll just stop. Just let me breathe.
“What will you give me?” he asks between seven and eight.
“Anything.”
“Your submission?”
“Yes.”
“Your obedience?”
“Yes.”
“Your bond?”
“Yes! Please, just?—”
The eighth orgasm cuts off my words.
Nine has me seeing colors that don't exist.
For ten, he adds his fingers. Tongue on my clit, three fingers stretching me, and one sliding into my ass. The combination breaks something in my mind. I come so hard I squirt, covering his face, and he drinks it like nectar.
When he finally stops, I'm boneless. Can't move. Can't think. Can only exist as sensation.
He carries me to the furs. Lays me down gently. His cocks are painfully hard, dripping steadily, but he doesn't take me. Just lies beside me, one hand possessive on my stomach.
“Why?” I manage to ask. “Why not... finish?”
“Because when I finally claim you, I want you coherent enough to remember every second. Tonight you're too destroyed. Tomorrow...”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow I'll fill you with both cocks. Breed you properly. Make you understand what empty really meant.”
I shiver. His hand slides lower, cups my oversensitive pussy. Just holds it. Possessive. Warm.
“Sleep,” he commands.
“I can't. Too...”
“Desperate?”
“Alive.”
He laughs, that grinding sound. “Then stay awake. Feel it. Your body preparing for tomorrow.”
The storm rages outside. Inside, his hand stays between my legs. Not moving. Just reminding me who I belong to.
I don't sleep.
I burn.
And tomorrow... tomorrow he'll either save me or destroy me completely.
Probably both.