Page 7 of When She Wishes (Risdaverse)

Chapter

Seven

BODHRRI

F inally.

I've been smelling Payton's arousal for weeks now, and it's been driving me wild. Every day, I'd enter the house and be hit with a wall of her sweet perfume. I've jerked off in the barn (and in the lavatory) more times than I care to think about it, all because her scent is so intoxicating that it's leaving me in a perpetual state of need.

Thank kef she's finally said something.

But she still looks shy and her scent has a hint of nervousness to it. That won't do. I rub her belly gently, since she seems to enjoy that. "Tell me more about your needs, my Payton."

"Oh..." Her gaze drops to my mouth and she shifts on the couch, as if her discomfort with the bluntness of my question makes her want to leave the room. "I just...what I said. Some pregnant women get turned on. I've heard it's normal."

"Of course it's normal," I soothe. "You are pregnant, not dead."

"Yes, but we're still strangers, aren't we?"

"Do you feel like a stranger? I don't." I reach out and caress her cheek. "I feel like I know you quite well."

She scoots closer to me, tilting her face towards mine, and then pauses. "Do your people kiss?"

Good, we are past the questioning. "I hope so, as you and I have kissed before."

Payton looks alarmed. "We did? Shit. I don't remember."

"You were very drunk. Ooli brew is powerful."

Her expression turns to misery. "I feel like such a jerk. I don't remember anything about that night and I wish I did. Apparently I'm a real fun time."

I chuckle, rubbing her belly lightly again. "Do not feel like a jerk." Whatever that is. "Our antics that night made these children, and I am very thankful for that."

She leans against my shoulder and gazes up at me as I continue to rub her belly with small, caressing circles. "So what else did I do that night that I don't recall?"

"You have nothing to worry over." I think at one point she'd picked up a clod of dirt and cried over it, but that will just embarrass her more so it will remain my secret. I won't tell her about how often she touched my face or demanded I purr for her. How she played with my whiskers and booped my nose and then gushed effusively about how big my cock was. How it had been so long since she'd had sex. She'd stroked my tail as if it was the most erotic thing she'd ever encountered and then had climbed atop me like a wild creature. We'd fucked, flopped onto our backs and stared up at the stars, and then had fucked twice more before dawn, each time pausing to point out the stars falling in the skies around us.

Payton looks suspicious of my answer. "So you say. You're the one with the memories of that night."

I lean in and rub my nose against hers, enjoying her scent and the softness of her skin. "And if it was anything terrible, would I be here now? Eager to touch you?"

"Oh," she breathes, and then her arms go around my neck. She presses her mouth to mine in a kiss, and this one is far more experienced and pleasant than the sloppy, enthusiastic ones she gave me that night. Not that I didn't like those—I'd been fascinated by the erotic nature of using tongues against one another. This is even better, though. Kissing Payton is more than just tongues colliding—it's the soft taste of her, the whimpers she makes as we come together, the scent and feel of her. This moment is utterly addictive, and I love most of all that she reached for me.

I nip at her lower lip before pulling away and focusing on her face. "Is this all right?"

She nods, her eyes shining, pupils dilated.

"Can I keep touching you?"

Payton nods again.

She reaches for me, and I capture her hand, nuzzling against her palm. "Me touching you," I point out. "Just let me enjoy this."

"I can't touch you?"

"You can...next time. Tonight, it is about your needs." Because I need to go slow with her. I don't want to be too intense right away, because I have memories of that night and she does not. I need to ease her into being fully comfortable with me. Once she trusts that I will be everything she needs in a sex partner, then it can be time for my pleasure, too.

She leans back and licks her pink lips, flushed from our kissing. In fact, her entire lower face is flushed from where it has rubbed against mine, which is adorably charming. "So I just, what, starfish and let you take care of me?"

"If you like." I'll ask what a starfish is later.

I reach up and caress her cheek, brushing it with my knuckles. She closes her eyes and leans into my caress, and I remember this from before. That I couldn't touch her enough. That she seemed absolutely starved for affection. I want to give her everything she desires. So I take my time, running my hands over her body, exploring her over her clothing with gentle caresses and light strokes. Her arousal perfume fills the air, and my cock fills my trou, but I keep my focus on her needs. I cup one heavy teat in my hand and it spills over my fingers. Her nipple is hard against my palm and I adjust my hand so I can rub that hard peak with my thumb.

That elicits a much bigger response from her than the small sighs and hums. Payton whimpers, trying to move closer to me again, her lips parting. I bend over her, mindful of the protruding belly between us, and kiss her mouth lightly even as I work her teat. "Feel good?"

She whines her response, sucking eagerly on my tongue.

I tug on her nipple and her kisses become urgent, her arousal scent thicker. "Can I touch you lower?" I ask her, abandoning her teat to stroke the leg closest to me. In response, she spreads her thighs for me.

Beautiful. Perfect.

Lifting up the lightweight skirt of her long tunic, I slide my hand under the fabric and press against her cunt. I know from before that she has a triangle of soft fur here between her thighs, and I'm not surprised to find it completely soaked with her need. With gentle fingers, I press into her folds, seeking out the spots she'd more or less demanded that I touch that night. I find her clit—the small pearl of flesh that is so very sensitive—and swirl my finger around it.

Payton's fingers dig into my mane and she sucks in a loud breath.

"Too much?" I ask, reveling in her response.

Mutely, she shakes her head and pulls me in for another kiss. This one is less teasing and more of just her putting her hot, hungry mouth on mine, but I don't mind. I like that she's losing control. I stroke through her slippery folds, making sure to keep my thumb teasing against her clit as I seek her core. My claws are retracted, my fingertips blunt, and when I find the opening to her core, Payton moans with need.

I stroke a finger into her. She's tight and warm and wet and so keffing good, just as good as I remembered. I crook the finger I have inside her to search for the textured spot on her inner walls and I know when I've found it. Payton squeals aloud and practically pulls out a double handful of my mane. She quivers all over, her mouth open against mine as I tease that secret spot deep inside her.

She comes, and it's a thing of beauty. Her thighs tighten around my hand and she lets out a sobbing breath as she clenches all around me. Her cunt squeezes my finger in a vise, but I don't let up, not until I'm positive that she's spent. When I pull my hand free from her thighs, it's drenched with her juices, and I can't resist licking my fingers clean. "Delicious."

Payton whimpers, still spent.

I move in and press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll make you some tea."

A tired laugh bubbles out of her as I get up, and she gives me a dazed look. "You...that was incredible. How did you know how to do that?"

In the kitchen, I fill the teapot with water and put it on the hot pad. "What do you mean? We had sex, Payton. That is how you became pregnant."

"Not sex," she says, struggling to sit up. I head back to her side and help her get comfortable, pulling her dress back down around her knees and then fluffing her pillows. Payton reaches absently for me, trailing her fingers through the fur on my arm as I return to the kitchen, as if she's reluctant to let me go, and I purr low in my belly. "The thing," she says. "With your fingers. Inside me. How did you know to do that?"

"You told me about it," I remind her. "In fact, you yelled instructions in my ear until I got it right that night we were together."

She's silent. I pour her tea and when I look over, her hands are over her face.

"Are you well?" I ask, bringing her favorite mug.

"I am utterly mortified, thanks for asking."

I chuckle at her reaction. So very modest. "There is no need for mortification. You directing me helped me immensely. I would have been far more embarrassed if I'd been unable to please you."

"You pleased me," she says, even as she takes the cup of tea from me. "My toes might never uncurl."

It is a small compliment, but one that fills me with pride. I am seeing to her needs—all of them. For me, it is no longer about just wanting to stay here on this planet. It is about wanting to stay with her. With my children. If she left for a space station, I would follow despite the havoc it would wreak on my lungs, simply because I need to be with her. "Drink your tea and then I will help you clean up and get to bed," I tell her. "You look tired."

She smiles up at me, her eyelids heavy, and I can't resist stroking my knuckle over her cheek. Go slow, I remind myself. Don't scare her away. But when she gestures at the couch and indicates I should sit with her while she drinks, I sink down next to her and pull her close. She leans against me, her musky scent lingering in the air and mingled with notes of tea. "You and your tea."

"Tea is soothing. Breathing in the steam helped my lungs when they hurt," I say, running my fingers through her hair. "After a while, it just became a thing. It makes me feel better. Tell me you don't feel better after a nice warm mug."

"It's just...thoughtful." Payton takes another sip. "I'm not used to being taken care of, not before you got here. I was a slave for so long and even back on Earth, no one took care of me. I was the one that did all the work. It's taking some adjusting."

"I enjoy doing things for you."

"Because you want to stay here on this planet," she teases.

"At first that was why, yes." I say the words slowly, because I don't want her to feel pressured. "But I like taking care of you, because I am taking care of our children, too."

"Right. The children."

It feels like the wrong thing to say. Like I've messed things up somehow. I would take care of her even if there were no children, but confessing that feels like I would be putting too much pressure on her too soon. So I say nothing, simply rub her arm. "I should return to the barn. The new pen should be finished tomorrow and I want to make sure the bots are programmed to bring the meat-stock to the new location."

I get to my feet, but Payton grabs my arm before I can leave. "Wait."

I glance down at her. "Yes?"

"You could sleep in the house." Payton gazes up at me, her cheeks still flushed from our touching. "Seems wrong to have you in the barn. It can't be comfortable."

It's not, but it's what I agreed to. "I will sleep wherever you want me to sleep. It's fine."

"It's not fine." She shakes her head, and I notice she does not let go of my hand. I curl my fingers around her wrist, holding her tight as she continues. "You can sleep in the house."

"Are you sure you want that?"

Payton seems shy as she responds. "You could sleep on the couch...or you could sleep with me. Though there might be more room on the couch."

She waves the mug at her belly.

An invitation to her bed—even if it's just to sleep—fills me with joy. "I would love to bed with you."

Her smile of response is sweet and she quickly gulps down the rest of her hot tea, then holds the mug out to me. "Help me up?"

I do, and then we head to the lavatory. I'm eager to wash her but she insists she can do it herself, so I pace in the hallway. I don't know what to do with myself. This isn't my house, so it's not like I can just kick off my shoes and relax while she bathes. I need to get my cues from her, first. If she's uncomfortable, even in the slightest, I'll head back to the barn.

But Payton eventually emerges, and she smells like soap, and it makes my cock jerk in response, because that's her soap. I've used it a dozen times but this is the first time I've smelled it on her skin. Incredible. The purring in my chest starts and I quickly tamp it down again.

She wears a shorter dress, this one soft and flowing and tents out around her large belly. Her hand supports the underside of it as she gives a sleepy yawn, her cheeks flushed. "Do you mind taking the right side of the bed? I have to sleep on my left side."

"Whatever side you do not want."

"Great." She climbs into bed.

I tuck the blankets around her, then peel off my boots and clothing, folding them neatly and setting them on a nearby trunk. I hesitate before getting into bed. "Do you mind if I sleep naked?"

"Mmm. At this point the cat's out of the bag, right? So to speak." Her words are soft and drowsy.

Still I hesitate. "Is...that a yes?"

"I don't mind." She reaches behind her and pats the bed. "Come on. You can be the big spoon."

I know what a spoon is, as I've seen them in her kitchen. Pleased, I climb into bed with her and she immediately pulls me against her, nestling our bodies together, her back to my front. She adjusts my arm, setting it on the lower slope of her belly, and I could swear I feel a flutter inside.

All is quiet. I wait for her to say something. The quiet is strange for me. The barn has meat-stock, and they're never silent. There's always shuffling and snorting. The apartments I lived in before this were full of rowdy crew who loved to get noisy and gamble in their time off, so never quiet then, either. And on station? Quiet is a mere fantasy. The stillness in Payton's bedroom is nice, if unnerving. Should we talk about this day, perhaps? About our changing relationship?

"I marked your door," I whisper. "I hope that is all right."

She makes a soft, sleepy sound that seems positive.

Encouraged, I draw little circles on her belly as my thoughts race ahead. If she doesn't mind that I have declared my intent, perhaps we should move things forward. I wait for her to comment on this—or anything else—but the silence gets to me. Eventually, I speak up again. "Will you be able to sleep like this?" I ask. "Are you comfortable?"

A small, whuffing snore is my answer. Payton is already asleep.

I smile at that. Of course she is. She has been well-pleasured and is in the arms of her mate. Content, I relax and fall to sleep, too.