Page 34 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)

Owen

Ry's quarters are exactly what I would have expected—meticulously organized with carefully displayed specimens that I'm guessing hold scientific significance beyond their beauty. It's a space that reflects him perfectly—precision with unexpected moments of wonder.

But it's not the room I'm focused on. It's the man standing before me, blue skin glowing with patterns that I'm learning to read like a language. Nervousness. Anticipation. Desire. All shifting beneath the surface in waves of light that he's not trying to hide anymore.

"You're beautiful," I say, the words coming out before I can consider them. "The way you light up... I've never seen anything like it."

The compliment sends a fresh cascade of light across his skin, concentrating at his cheekbones in what I've come to recognize as the Nereidan equivalent of a blush. "It only happens with you," he says softly.

My hands move to the fastenings of his clothing, taking my time with each one. This isn't like the rushed urgency in the shower or our previous encounters. Tonight feels different. I want to savor every moment.

He stands still, watching me with those golden eyes as I slowly undress him, revealing his blue-tinted skin inch by inch. His bioluminescence brightens wherever my fingers brush against him, leaving trails of light that fade slowly. With each layer removed, his breathing becomes less even.

When I finally remove the last piece of his clothing, he stands naked before me, the blue of his skin deepening in certain areas—the hollow of his throat, the planes of his chest, the curve of his hips. Everywhere, beneath the surface, light pulses in patterns that match his quickening heartbeat.

He reaches for me then, pulling my shirt over my head with surprising urgency. His hands explore my chest, my sides, his touch both curious and possessive. I let him undress me completely, enjoying the growing confidence in his movements.

When we're both naked, the size difference between us becomes more apparent.

His frame is leaner than mine, his shoulders narrower, his height slightly less.

But there's nothing diminutive about the way his cock stands fully erect against his abdomen—impressively sized, adorned with subtle ridges that I know will create incredible sensations, and glowing with the same bioluminescence as the rest of his skin, though more intensely at the tip.

I guide him toward the bed, our hands intertwined.

His fingers are longer than human proportions would suggest for his size, elegant and precise in their movements.

As he lies back, the bioluminescence beneath his skin casts enough light to see him clearly even in the dimness of the room.

I join him, propping myself on one elbow beside him.

"I want to touch you everywhere," I tell him, my voice low. "Make you feel good."

"Yes," he says simply, reaching for me.

I start with his mouth, kissing him deeply as my hands explore his body. His skin is cooler than human temperature but warms quickly under my touch. The bioluminescence brightens wherever my fingers trail, creating paths of blue-green light across his torso.

When I find a particularly sensitive spot just below his ribcage, his breath hitches, and the light beneath his skin pulses brightly.

"Like that?" I murmur against his skin.

"Yes," he gasps, arching into my touch.

I replace my fingers with my mouth, using my tongue and teeth gently against the sensitive area. His whole body responds, a moan escaping him that sends heat rushing through me.

I continue exploring, discovering all the places that make him gasp and glow brighter.

His neck, just below his jaw. The inside of his wrist. The hollow of his hip.

All the while, I tell him how gorgeous he is, how much I love the way he responds to me, how I've thought about this every night since we parted.

Each compliment triggers fresh waves of bioluminescence, his body glowing brighter with my words. By the time my mouth reaches his inner thigh, his skin is almost too bright to look at directly, pulsing with need.

I can't resist any longer. I take his cock in my hand, stroking slowly, feeling the ridges beneath my palm.

The natural lubricant his body produces makes my hand glide easily, and I marvel at how his bioluminescence pulses in time with my strokes, brightest at the tip.

When I lower my head and take him into my mouth, he lets out a sound I've never heard before—something between a gasp and a moan, but distinctly alien in its musical quality.

His hands find my hair, not guiding, just touching, connecting.

I take my time, exploring the different texture, the unique taste—slightly sweet with mineral undertones.

The ridges that run along the underside create an interesting sensation against my tongue, and I experiment with different techniques until I find what makes him glow the brightest.

"Owen," he gasps, fingers tightening in my hair. "I want more."

I look up, meeting his golden eyes. "Tell me what you want, Ry."

"I want you inside me," he says, the words coming out in a rush of breath and light.

The directness of his request sends heat coursing through me. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he says, pulling me up for a kiss. "I've wanted this since I first saw you in my doorway."

I kiss him deeply, my hand sliding down to stroke him, feeling the slick fluid that's already forming there and on his skin. The natural lubricant his body produces coats my fingers as I touch him.

"Turn over," I suggest between kisses.

"No," he says immediately. "I need to see you."

The certainty in his voice, the clear desire in his eyes—it unravels something in me. I position myself between his legs, gathering some of the slick fluid his body is producing. When I press one finger inside him, his eyes widen, and a gasp escapes him.

"Good?" I ask, watching his face.

"More," is all he says, hips shifting to take my finger deeper.

I take my time, adding another finger when his body relaxes, then another. His natural lubricant makes everything easier, his body producing more as his arousal increases. The patterns of light beneath his skin grow more complex and intense, his breathing becoming ragged.

When I finally line myself up, I reach for his hands, interlacing our fingers and pressing them into the bed on either side of his head. The position brings our faces close, creates a connection beyond the physical.

"Look at me," I whisper, and his golden eyes lock on mine as I push in slowly. The sensation is incredible—the cool heat of him, the slight difference in texture from a human, the natural lubricant making the slide smooth and easy.

"Breathe," I remind him, noticing he's holding his breath. "Stay with me."

He exhales, his body relaxing around me as I continue pushing in until I'm fully seated. I hold still, letting him adjust, watching the play of emotions across his face.

"You feel amazing," I tell him, my voice rough with restraint. "How are you doing?"

"Don't stop," he says, his hands gripping my shoulders. "Please, Owen."

I begin to move then, maintaining a slow pace at first, still holding his hands, watching his face for every reaction.

His eyes flutter closed at one point, then open again as if he doesn't want to miss seeing me.

The bioluminescence continues to build, creating patterns I've never seen before—swirls and eddies of light that seem to flow with each thrust.

"You're so beautiful," I tell him, the words completely inadequate for what I'm seeing. "So perfect."

A particularly bright wave of light pulses through him at the praise. "Harder," he gasps, legs wrapping around my waist. "I need you deeper."

I release his hands, shifting my grip to his hips, my fingers digging into the blue skin there.

He immediately reaches for my forearms, holding on as I increase my pace, still watching him carefully.

The feeling of his smaller frame beneath me, his hands gripping my arms, the contrast of his blue skin against my tanned forearms—it all adds to the intensity of the moment.

The change in angle pulls a groan from me that I don't try to suppress.

"Yes," he says, responding to the sound. "Let me hear you."

It's surprisingly intimate, this request. I don't hold back, letting him hear how he affects me with each movement, each shift of his body beneath mine. His own sounds become less controlled, more instinctive—gasps and moans that I commit to memory.

As his pleasure builds, the bioluminescence increases in intensity, pulsing faster, brighter. I can feel him getting close, his body tightening around me, his breathing becoming more erratic.

"That's it," I encourage him, my own control fraying. "Let go for me."

When he comes, it's with an intensity that takes my breath away. His back arches, his eyes widen, and the bioluminescence beneath his skin explodes in a supernova of blue-white light so bright I have to close my eyes. I feel him pulsing around me, his whole body shuddering with release.

The sight, the sensation, the knowledge that I've brought him to this point—it's too much. I follow him over the edge, my own orgasm hitting with unexpected force. For a moment, everything disappears except the connection between us, physical and something more, something I don't have words for.

As we both come down, I'm careful not to collapse on him, though my arms are shaking with the effort of holding myself up. His eyes open slowly, the golden irises seeming to glow in the aftermath of so much bioluminescence.

"That was..." he begins, then stops, at a loss for words.

"Yeah," I agree, understanding perfectly. "It was."

I carefully pull out, noting his slight wince, and move to lie beside him. Immediately, he turns toward me, an arm draping across my chest in a gesture that seems both possessive and vulnerable.

"Are you okay?" I ask, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

"I feel..." he starts, then pauses, seeming to search for the right words. "Incredible. Connected to you in a way I didn't know was possible." His hand traces patterns on my chest, matching the glow beneath his skin. "Words aren't enough."

I smile, pressing a kiss to his temple. "We should clean up," I suggest, though I make no move to leave the bed.

"Not yet," he says, his arm tightening slightly around me. "I want to stay like this a little longer."

"As long as you want," I tell him, wrapping my arm around him in return.

We lie together in comfortable silence, his bioluminescence gradually settling into a gentle, steady glow that pulses in time with his heartbeat. It's hypnotic, soothing, and I find myself matching my breathing to its rhythm.

"Owen?" he says after a while, his voice soft.

"Mm?"

"Thank you."

The simple words carry a weight that makes my chest tighten. "For what?"

"For coming back," he says, his face pressed against my shoulder. "For this."

"Always," I promise, knowing as I say it that I mean it beyond this moment, beyond this room.

As Ry's breathing gradually evens out into sleep, I find myself watching the patterns of light beneath his skin. Even in unconsciousness, they continue to shift and flow, like a visual representation of dreams.

I wonder if he's dreaming of me. Of us. Of the possibility that exists within these seventy-two hours.

I hope so. Because I'm already certain that when our time is up, I won't be ready to say goodbye.