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He keeps his eyes on me as he lays both palms on his legs, then glides them slowly up his inner thighs. After rearranging himself so he’s sitting cross-legged, giving me a bird’s-eye view of everything in all its masculine glory, he grabs his secondary cock, the one closest to his abdomen.

He palms it. It’s been hard for a long time—we pulled away from the checkpoint at least fifteen minutes ago. It bobs in appreciation as he strokes it from base to tip and back again.

My mouth is dry—like desert dry. I swallow thickly as my gaze flicks from where it was trapped in his to the show he’s putting on below his waist.

He’s pulling on his cock now, gently by the look of it.

“My whole life,” he says as he changes his grip from underhand to overhand as he skims lightly along his flesh, “I thought of a pretty azure-blue Draalian female when I did this.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the little twist he gives himself right under the crown.

When he opens his eyes, his gaze seeks mine immediately, watching my response as he circles the head of his cock with his open palm. What he’s doing must feel so good he can’t control a quick upthrust of his hips accompanied by the tiniest moan.

My core is dripping wet, my nipples are so hard you could read them like Braille through ten layers of clothes. In my wildest and dirtiest sexual fantasies, I never came close to anything this arousing.

“A few nights ago, I couldn’t conjure that Draalian female’s image anymore.”

I’m beginning to regret my decision to be way over here. Part of me would like to be up close and personal to watch the action. Who am I kidding? Part of me would like to be in on the action.

“A few nights ago, all I could think about as I stroked myself were pictures of you , Annora.”

A little sound escapes my mouth—a cross between a moan and a sigh. Maybe Draalians are capable of magic, because it’s as if I can actually feel his palms on my nipples and a gentle pluck on my clit. Moisture has soaked through my panties.

I should stand up right now, climb into the driver’s seat, and hover away. I scold myself even as I urge, “Tell me more,” with a deep, breathy voice.

He answers one of my questions by grabbing his primary cock, the bottom one, with his other hand. It’s just as long and thick as the other. I’m spellbound as he wrings it with a twist of his wrist.

Two-fisted it is. Tipping his head back, he watches me through slitted eyes, his hips thrusting in a cadence with the imaginary drum music I never put on.

“More? You want me to tell you I imagine your hands doing this?” To illustrate, he slides both palms slowly to the base of his hard cocks and sensually draws them up with, I’m imagining, a light touch.

I can see his grip loosen as he gets to the pronounced ridges on the middle of the shafts, then tighten again toward the tip.

“Should I tell you that last night as we slept together in this vehicle I imagined your pretty pink tongue licking me?”

I’m beyond speech, almost beyond thought, but I nod my head earnestly. My blood is pulsing in my clit to the beat of the imaginary drums.

“Just like your sexbots, in my fantasy you told me you liked my taste.”

A little grunt escapes me and my eyes shutter closed to better appreciate the swirling, tightening need that flashes through me starting deep in my pelvis and creating a vortex of desire in my chest cavity as it arcs to my hardened nipples.

Through my lust-fueled haze, I debate whether I should approach him.

As intimate as this is, once I touch him, I’ll cross a line that can’t be uncrossed.

As much as I ache to have him in my mouth, to discover what he tastes like, I’m afraid it will change things between us so fundamentally we’ll never be able to go back to what we were.

I can’t keep my lids shut for long, I have to see the rest of the show.

His head tips back farther, making his Adam’s apple more prominent.

He lets loose a long, deep groan as his hands speed up.

I’ve watched porn since my teens—both for fun and research—and I’ve never seen anything as deeply sensual as this blue reptile pleasuring himself as much for my enjoyment as his own.

Sliding his feet up so his soles are flat on the floor, he uses this new position to thrust into his hands, harder now. He’s holding nothing back. The shy, respectful Draalian is gone. He’s left this living breathing sex machine in his place.

Hips thrusting, groin lifting, thighs and forearms straining, he quickens his pace as he tightens both grips. His face constricts in pleasure, a grimace of ecstasy, as he comes. A thick ropey jet of pearly blue luminescent come spurts onto his chest as he groans in fulfillment.

My channel clenches, quivering in desire and perhaps the tiniest orgasm of my own. Surprising me in the best way.

He pants as he sets his ass back on the floor and allows his head to tip forward until his chin rests on his chest.

I’ve never been in a position like this before, not anywhere close, but I intuit that if I don’t do something right this second everything between us is going to change. He’s going to wake from his own lust-crazed cloud and regret what he just shared with me. I don’t want that to happen.

I toss him a rag I find lying in the corner and watch, amazed, as I find myself aroused at even his act of wiping himself off. Grabbing the blankets, I crawl to sit next to him. I cover us, first with one blanket, then another, then pull the ends, one over his shoulder, one over mine.

We’re cocooned together, hips and shoulders touching. I wish I were naked so I could feel his soft scales slide against my skin. Instead, I place his arm around my shoulders and nestle my head onto his hard-muscled pec.

He’s quiet. Too quiet. I imagine self-recriminations are echoing in his head. To shut them up, I talk.

“That was brave of you, Zorn. Brave and the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I decide against disclosing how many thousands of hours of porn I’ve watched that give my statement substance.

His palm drifts up and down my arm from shoulder to wrist.

“I’m going to apologize one more time,” I tell him from where I’m hiding. “The ‘repulsive’ comment was hurtful and out of line and I’m sorry I said it. I like you, Zorn,” I tell him as I move away enough to look him in the eye. “I find you the opposite of repulsive.”

He grips my chin and strokes my face with the backs of his fingers as he bestows me with the tenderest gaze I’ve ever received.

He just took a huge risk with me, I’m going to return the favor.

“Part of me wants to rip my clothes off and do those things with my mouth. Those things you imagined me doing. But,” I shake my head, “I’m not ready for that.”

He settles my head back on his chest and combs his fingers through my hair.

“I knew it would feel soft,” he husks, his voice filled with awe. “I never dreamed it would be this soft.” Bending lower, he presses his lips to the top of my head, making a quiet kissing sound.

I melt, filled with an affectionate appreciation for his gentle soul. A different person, shanghaied from their home planet and imprisoned in a small cell, deprived of a chair or food or water or even a toilet, would have had every right to be angry and cruel. Zorn never went there.

“I forgive you.” He kisses my head again as I listen to the reassuring thump of his heart.

Zorn

I allow myself to bask in the afterglow of my release and the quiet, peaceful joy of stroking her hair and kissing her head. For a male who grew up knowing I would probably never get close to a female, never experience her touch, I let myself appreciate this for what it is, a small miracle.

Having this soft female body nestling against me, her hand gently resting on my thigh is more than I ever thought I’d have.

Do I want more? Yes. She just admitted she wished she were naked. I wish for even more than that. But I’ll settle for this.

I rise, pulling the blankets off her, then build a little pallet on the floor. After lifting her sleepy form, I place her on it.

“You’re a good female, Annora. You’re beautiful and smart and sexy and forgiven. Get some sleep.”