Page 25 of Technically Abducted (Nereidan Compatibility Program #4)

The sensation of his tongue working around my finger, the wet heat of his mouth, combined with the empathic feedback of his arousal, makes coherent thought increasingly difficult. When he takes my finger deeper, sucking gently while his tongue swirls around it, I barely manage to suppress a groan.

"You're good at that," I breathe when he releases my finger with a deliberately obscene pop.

"You taste good," he says, voice rough with want. "Sweet from the berries, but underneath... just you."

Before I can respond, he's reaching for me, pulling me toward him until I capture his mouth in a kiss that tastes of strawberries and desire. But instead of letting me take control, Finn breaks away and pushes me back against the cushions.

"My turn," he says, and there's something commanding in his voice that makes heat spike through me. "Sit back. Let me take care of you."

I comply, watching as he positions himself between my legs, running his hands up my thighs with deliberate slowness. "What do you want to do to me?"

"Everything," Finn says simply, then leans down to kiss my hip bone, my lower abdomen, anywhere except where I need him most. "I want to drive you crazy the way you drive me crazy. I want to feel what it's like for you when I use my mouth on you."

His words send a jolt of heat straight to my cock, made more intense by the echo of arousal I feel from him through our bond. "Finn..."

"Tell me what you like," he says, his breath hot against my skin. "I want to hear you say it."

"Your mouth," I manage, my voice rougher than intended. "I want your mouth on me."

"Where?" he asks, nipping at my hip bone. "Be specific."

The deliberate teasing, so different from our first encounter when he was uncertain and I guided everything, makes my head spin. "On my cock. I want to feel your mouth around me."

"Good," Finn murmurs, then finally, finally, wraps his lips around the head of my cock.

The sensation is incredible—wet heat and gentle suction—but what makes it overwhelming is feeling his satisfaction through our empathic bond. I can sense how much he enjoys the taste of me, the way I react to his touch, the power he has over my responses.

"Finn," I gasp, my hands fisting in the cushions as he struggles to take me deeper, his mouth stretched wide around my girth. "I can feel how much you like this."

He pulls off briefly, using both hands to stroke what he can't fit in his mouth.

"You're so big," he breathes, his voice rough.

"I love the way you stretch my mouth, the way I have to work to take you.

Love the way you taste, love feeling how good I'm making you feel.

" Then he's back to using his mouth and hands together, his tongue working around my head while his fingers stroke my length, driving me toward the edge with steady determination.

But just when I'm close, he stops, pulling away with a satisfied look that makes me want to flip him over and take control again.

"Not yet," he says, moving up to straddle my hips. Unlike our first time, when I was the one positioning us, guiding every movement, now Finn takes charge completely. "I want to be in control this time. Want to watch your face when I ride you."

The comparison hits me immediately—how different this is from our first encounter, when I was careful and controlled, when I guided him through every sensation. Now he's the one setting the pace, the one making demands, and the reversal sends heat racing through me.

"You want control," I observe, my hands finding his hips as he settles over me.

"I want to watch you fall apart," Finn says bluntly, leaning down to kiss me hard. "Want to feel what it's like when you completely lose it because of what I'm doing to you."

His confidence is intoxicating, so different from the hesitant human I first brought aboard my vessel. "And if I want to touch you? Guide you?"

"You can touch," Finn allows, rocking against me teasingly. "But I'm in charge. I decide the pace, the depth, everything."

The command in his voice makes my cock throb against him. "Yes," I breathe.

"Good." Finn's smile is wicked as he begins removing his pants, his movements deliberately slow and sensual. "Because I plan to take my time with you."

Finn's smile is brilliant as he begins removing his sleep garments, his movements efficient but unhurried. I follow his example, noting how he watches my skin brighten as more of it becomes exposed to his gaze.

When we're both naked, he settles back into my lap, skin to skin contact sending sparks through our empathic connection. I can feel his anticipation mixing with my own, creating a spiral of shared arousal that makes us both breathe harder.

"Need to prepare you," I murmur, my hands sliding down to trace along his entrance.

"Yeah," Finn breathes, leaning into my touch. "But not too much. I like the intensity now that I know how good it can be."

His admission sends heat racing through me—the idea that he wants to feel the stretch, that he's grown to appreciate the sharp edge of sensation that comes with our connection.

I work him carefully but minimally, just enough to ease the way, noting how he responds to each touch with small sounds of pleasure.

"Ready?" I ask, positioning myself at his entrance.

Instead of answering with words, Finn reaches between us to guide me, then begins to sink down slowly. But halfway through, his control breaks and he drops down faster than I expected, taking me completely in one smooth motion.

"Fuck," he gasps, his head falling back as he adjusts to the sudden fullness. "That's... intense."

The sensation of him taking me like that—eager, impatient, wanting the full impact all at once—is overwhelming in the best possible way. I can feel through our empathic connection how the sharp stretch affects him, how he craves that edge of intensity now.

"Fuck," Finn gasps when I'm fully seated inside him, his head falling back as he adjusts to the sensation. "This is… intense."

Through our empathic connection, I can feel what he feels—the stretch, the fullness, the way this position hits different angles than before. But I can also feel his wonder at the control, his satisfaction at being able to set the pace.

"Move," I encourage, my hands sliding up to rest on his hips. "Take what you need."

Finn begins to move, slow at first, finding his rhythm. The position allows him complete control over speed and depth, and I watch his face as he experiments with different angles, noting what makes him gasp, what makes the empathic connection flare between us.

"Good?" I ask, though I can feel his pleasure through our bond.

"So good," Finn confirms, his movements becoming more confident. "I can feel everything you feel. The way I feel around you, how much you like watching me…"

The empathic feedback creates an intoxicating loop—I feel his pleasure at taking me, he feels my arousal at watching him, and both sensations amplify as they bounce between us.

Soon we're both lost in the spiral of shared sensation, our first careful encounter forgotten in favor of this much more primal, demanding connection.

"Fuck, Tev'ra," Finn gasps, his rhythm becoming erratic as pleasure overwhelms him. "I can feel... you're so close, and it's making me..."

"Don't hold back," I tell him, my grip on his hips tightening. "Let me feel you come apart."

"Touch yourself," he demands suddenly, his eyes blazing with lust. "I want to feel what it's like when you're inside me and touching yourself at the same time."

The command in his voice sends heat straight through me.

I wrap my hand around my cock where it disappears into his body, and the sensation is incredible—feeling myself inside him while also feeling the pressure of my own grip.

Through our bond, Finn experiences it too, crying out at the doubled sensation.

"Jesus fuck," he breathes, his movements becoming wild and desperate. "That's... God, I can feel everything. How tight I am around you, how good your hand feels..."

"You feel incredible," I tell him, my voice rough with approaching climax. "So perfect, so beautiful riding me like this."

"I can feel how close you are," Finn pants, leaning down to capture my mouth in a desperate kiss. "Come for me, Tev'ra. I want to feel you come inside me."

"Touch yourself," I encourage against his lips. "Let me feel what it's like for you."

Finn wraps his hand around his cock, and immediately I'm flooded with the sensation of his touch through our empathic bond.

I can feel his arousal from his perspective—the way my cock fills him at this angle, the pressure against his prostate with each movement, the overwhelming nature of controlling his own pleasure while feeling mine.

"Not going to last," he warns, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate.

"Good," I breathe, my own orgasm building rapidly. "Come for me. Let me feel you come while riding my cock."

When Finn's orgasm hits, it crashes through our empathic connection with doubled intensity.

I feel his climax as if it were my own—the way pleasure radiates outward from where we're joined, the way his entire body tenses and then releases, the overwhelming satisfaction of taking his pleasure while giving mine.

He comes hard across my chest, his release painting streaks across my bioluminescent skin.

His orgasm triggers my own, and suddenly I'm coming deep inside him while feeling my climax from his perspective as well. The doubled sensation is almost too intense, leaving us both shaking and gasping as we ride out the aftershocks that seem to go on forever through our shared connection.

Afterward, we remain connected, Finn collapsed against my chest as we both catch our breath. The empathic connection has settled to a warm hum, carrying contentment and satisfaction and something deeper that I'm not quite ready to examine.

"That was incredible," Finn breathes against my neck. "I've never felt anything like that. The empathic thing makes everything so intense—not just the physical stuff, but the emotional stuff too. I could feel how much you... how this affects you."

There's something vulnerable in his voice, like he's not sure how to process what he experienced through our connection.

I understand—the empathic bond doesn't just share physical sensation, it shares emotional response as well.

He felt my growing attachment, my satisfaction at his pleasure, my protectiveness and care.

"And how does that make you feel?" I ask carefully.

Finn is quiet for a moment, seeming to consider his answer. "Scared," he admits finally. "But also… safe? Which is weird, because those should be contradictory."

"Not contradictory," I say, understanding exactly what he means. "You feel safe enough to be scared. Safe enough to acknowledge vulnerability."

"Yeah," he says softly. "That's exactly it."

We remain connected for several more minutes, neither of us wanting to break the intimate contact. Eventually practical considerations require separation, but when Finn settles beside me on the seating platform, he stays close enough that we're still touching.

"Your parents were right about the vel'thani, " he says eventually, reaching for the abandoned berries. "Definitely comfort food."

"I'll be sure to tell them you approved," I say, accepting a cream-covered strawberry from his fingers. "And the berries were definitely the right choice for dessert," I add, noting how his eyes darken as he watches me eat from his hand.

"Told you the mess was part of the appeal," Finn says with a grin.

As we finish the remaining fruit, feeding each other with deliberately sensual intent, I find myself thinking about comfort.

Not just the vel'thani , though that achieved its intended purpose perfectly.

But this—the cooking, the playful food sharing, the intimate connection, the way Finn looks completely relaxed against my side.

I have never experienced this level of comfort with another person. Never shared space so easily, never found such satisfaction in simple domestic activities, never felt so… complete.

The thought should disturb me. This assessment is temporary, Finn will return to Earth, and I will submit my report and move on to other assignments. Becoming attached serves no logical purpose.

But as I watch Finn lick cream from his fingers with obvious satisfaction, as I feel the gentle hum of our empathic connection carrying his contentment, I find myself less concerned with logic than I should be.

For now, this is enough. This comfort, this connection, this unprecedented experience of caring for someone who cares for me in return.

Whatever the future holds, I will treasure this.