Page 37 of Reluctantly Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #3)

"So I observe," Kav'eth replies dryly. "Have you noted any indication of bond formation?"

Ry glances up at me, a flash of excitement visible in his eyes. "Yes," he says, turning back to his brother. "It just happened, actually. Owen felt what I was feeling without me saying anything."

Kav'eth's expression shifts, showing interest rather than surprise. "Already? That's promising."

"Yes," Ry says, and I can feel his excitement and happiness flowing through our new connection. "When our first attempt failed, I wasn't sure if it would ever happen."

"The Council will be very interested in your findings," Kav'eth says, that almost-smile appearing again. "I will inform them of this initial positive indication."

"Thank you, Councilor," Ry replies formally.

Kav'eth hesitates, then adds in a slightly less formal tone, "Congratulations, brother. To both of you."

Before Ry can respond, the communication ends, the holographic display dissolving into nothing.

For a moment, we sit in silence, the implications of what just happened settling over us. Then Ry turns in his chair to look up at me, wonder and scientific curiosity battling for dominance in his expression.

"We're bonding," he says, his voice soft with amazement. "It's actually happening this time."

"How does it feel?" I ask, still adjusting to the echo of his emotions alongside my own.

"It's..." he pauses, clearly searching for the right word. "Extraordinary."

I smile, leaning down to kiss him properly. Against my lips, I feel him smile too, his happiness flowing into me just as mine flows into him—a feedback loop of emotion that intensifies with each passing second.

When we break apart, his bioluminescence is pulsing in a pattern I haven't seen before—complex whorls and eddies of light that seem to follow some mathematical pattern too intricate for me to grasp.

"What now?" I ask, my thumbs tracing small circles on his shoulders.

"Now," Ry says, his voice taking on that tone of scientific determination I've come to find oddly endearing, "we need to document this. See how this bond differs from our first attempt."

I laugh, feeling his excitement through our connection. "Of course we do."

"This is incredible, Owen," he continues, standing and taking my hands in his. "After our first attempt failed, I wasn't sure if we'd ever bond. But it's happening now, just like I hoped."

"Maybe we're just that compatible," I suggest, pulling him closer.

"That's one way to look at it," he agrees with a smile, his body pressing against mine. "We should test it more, see how strong it is."

"Thoroughly," I repeat, sliding my hands down to his waist. "And how exactly do we do that?"

The bioluminescence beneath his skin brightens at my touch, patterns shifting with his thoughts. "We could try distance tests," he says. "See how emotions transfer between us. Maybe measure how our bodies sync up..."

"Sounds very scientific," I murmur, my lips finding the sensitive spot just below his ear.

"We should maintain consistent testing parameters to—" he breaks off as my teeth graze his skin, a small gasp escaping him. Through our new connection, I feel his desire flare, mingling with my own.

"You were saying?" I prompt innocently, pulling back to look at him.

"Testing can wait," he decides, the shift from scientific curiosity to desire so quintessentially Ry that I smile. "I have more immediate priorities right now."

"I can feel that," I tell him, the double meaning making him flush with blue-tinged light. "Want to head back to your quarters?"

But instead of answering, Ry gives me a look that sends heat straight to my groin. In one quick motion, he's up from his chair and pressing against me, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth and need.

"Fuck going back to quarters," I growl against his mouth, already backing him toward the counter. "I want you right here."

His skin practically lights up the entire room at that, those blue-white patterns flaring bright as I push him against the counter. I slide my hands down his chest, feeling him shiver under my touch, then tug at his pants.

"We're in the nutrition center," he says, but I can feel through our weird new connection that the impropriety of it turns him on as much as it makes him nervous.

"We're also alone on the entire ship," I tell him, dropping to my knees and yanking his pants down. "And I really need to taste you right fucking now."

I don't waste time with teasing. I take him in my mouth, feeling his knees buckle slightly as I work him with my tongue. His alien cock is different from a human's—smoother, with those same glowing patterns running along the underside—but the way he moans when I suck him is universal enough.

"Owen," he gasps, his fingers digging into my shoulders. "I can—I'm feeling what you're feeling—"

That's when it hits me too—this echo of sensation, like I'm experiencing both sides at once. I can feel my own pleasure in giving and somehow feel what he's receiving too. The bond is letting us feel each other's sensations, and holy shit, it's intense.

"Turn around," I tell him, my voice rough. "Hands on the counter."

He complies immediately, which is fucking hot coming from a guy who usually overthinks everything. I run my hands over his ass—another place where his anatomy is subtly different, more muscular with those glowing patterns that pulse brighter when he's turned on.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I tell him, because he is, especially like this—bent over the kitchen counter, glowing with desire, all that scientific control completely shot to hell.

I spread him open and put my mouth on him, feeling him jerk and hearing him curse in that alien language of his. Through our connection, I can feel exactly what he likes, adjusting the pressure and movement of my tongue to make those glowing patterns on his skin pulse brighter.

"Owen," he groans, pushing back against my face. "Please—I need—"

"I know exactly what you need," I tell him, because I do. I can feel it. I work him open with my fingers, my own cock so hard it hurts just from the sounds he's making.

When I finally push into him, we both shout. The sensation is doubled, maybe tripled—I'm feeling my cock inside his tight heat and somehow feeling what it's like for him to be filled by me. It's so intense I have to grip his hips hard just to stay upright.

"Fuck," I pant, trying not to come immediately. "Can you feel—"

"Everything," he gasps. "I feel everything."

I start to move, finding a rhythm that has those glowing patterns on his skin pulsing in time with my thrusts. I reach around to stroke him, and the doubled sensation nearly tips us both over the edge.

"Harder," he demands, and who am I to argue?

I fuck him against the counter, my hand working his cock, our shared pleasure building through the bond until I can't tell where my sensations end and his begin. His skin is practically blinding now, illuminating the kitchen in pulses of blue-white light.

When he comes, I feel his orgasm as if it's my own, triggering my release so hard that my vision actually whites out for a second. I empty myself into him, still thrusting through the aftershocks, our combined pleasure bouncing back and forth through the bond like some kind of sexual echo chamber.

We stay like that for a minute, both of us catching our breath, my chest pressed against his back, my face buried in his neck. I can feel his satisfaction mixing with mine, a pleasant warmth flowing between us.

"Fuck, that was intense," I finally manage, slowly pulling out of him.

He turns around, his face flushed blue, his eyes dazed. "The bond appears to enhance sexual pleasure by creating a neurological feedback loop of sensation."

I laugh and kiss him to shut him up. "Only you would analyze mind-blowing sex like a science experiment."

"You like it when I analyze things," he says, and I can feel through the bond that he knows it's true.

"Yeah, I do," I admit, helping him pull his pants back up. "But maybe we should clean up and move to your quarters. I'm not done with you yet, and I want a bed for round two."

He nods, adjusting his clothing with those precise movements I've come to find weirdly endearing. "The bond will likely continue to develop. We should document the changes in sensation and emotional transference."

"If by 'document' you mean 'fuck until we can't move,' then I'm totally on board with your research plan," I tell him, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door.

As we head for his quarters, I can still feel his emotions mingling with mine—satisfaction, excitement, and a surprising contentment I never expected to feel with him, of all people.

So we've got a working bond this time. No idea what that means long-term, but honestly?

Right now I'm just thinking about getting him back to his quarters so I can make him light up like neon signs all over again.

Who would've thought I'd end up actually glad I got abducted by a glowing alien with a protocol fetish? Life is fucking weird sometimes.