Page 42 of Bred By Sor'en

I scream, my orgasm, as I’ve learned they’re called ripping through me like a hot iron. My whimpers muffled by the pillow my face is shoved into until it's gently redirected by Sor’en so that I don’t suffocate. Although I’m quite certain I wouldn’t mind. He brushes my hair away with such tenderness while he whispers pure vitriol. “Pretty helpless little mate. I fear you’re going to have to remind me how badly your paralyzed soft body needs my seed.”

“I need it!” I gasp out as he fucks into me.

He tsks. “Not you, my sweetest gift, my reckoning. Yourcunt, that tight little womb. Tell me it needs me.”

“It needs you, Sor’en. My cunt needs you so bad.”

“See? You can be such a well-behaved mate. I need only keep you soft and spread on my cock.”

“Oh, oh, oh, fuck.”

His cum hits me like a hot jet, making stars burst behind my eyes as he bellows his release, mirroring my climax. I don’t know how long we lie there panting, him draped over me, keeping his weight off until his gentle hands shift me, turning me onto my back.

My lips part as he lifts my limp legs, forcing them to my chest. “What—"

“We mustn’t be wasteful.” I flush as his chest meets my lifted knees, keeping them pinned there. His pristine white hair dancing again over my face as he leans down, pressing the lightest kiss to the long scar that runs up my neck. “You are beautiful, Hue.”

“So are you, Sor’en.”

He smirks at that.

So, I open for him… as much as I can. I tell him how I got the scar. How I got caught sneaking out of the education pod when I was only a few kintics from aging out. I’d dipped deeper into the bowels of Warmar Space Station than I’d ever gone before. That no sooner than I emerged from the walls into the inner rim, I’d swiped a pouch from a Yalmet male. A towering and proud ice species not known for their forgiveness. It’s said they roam their planet on giant beasts made from the same ice core as them millions of orbits ago. He’d turned on me and opened my flesh neck to chin in the blink of an eye.

“My pod keepers barely convinced him not to finish the job, but as soon as we’d reached the nearest medical hub, I was almost gone, anyway. I nearly died, but I still had the pouch.” I chuckle.

My mate does not see the humor in it. His white eyes lethal and hard.

“I didn’t learn shit either.” I beam up at him.

He growls, leaning in to playfully nip at my face. “Horrid little mate.”

I laugh at that, feeling oddly giddy.

That feeling only increases as Melion bursts into the room, expanding himself like a huge crackling blanket and throwing himself over us with happy little warbles.

Sor’en’s laugher mixes with mine and emotion again clogs my throat.

Because I love them.

Both of them.

A lot.

twenty-two

Hue

Another three limtics and I’m becoming something of a botanist myself. Or at least a proper mate to one, as proper as I can be. The only downside is that my back and knees hurt like fucking shit. I roll over in our large bed, not surprised to find Sor’en’s side empty. Nor am I surprised to find my favorite shadow hanging out by the end waiting for me to wake like he does most mornings.

“Morning, Melly,” I offer, groaning as I reach for the balm Sor’en made for me. It’s a combination of his oil and the petals, which, if the data pad I’ve now become absolutely hooked on was correct, have similar properties at least medically to a flower that was once found on Old Earth called poppies. Although the pretty glowing flowers of Silloria have far stronger properties. The thick, round brush swipes wetly through the mixture as Iswirl it, gathering a heaping load before knocking off anything that’s too chunky.

It’s the sound of heated, angry voices that makes me still, the mixture dripping onto my waiting knee.

Melion zips in front of me just as I stand, heading toward the sound. The tincture all but forgotten on the bed.

I frown at his large white orbs as he gives me another tendril in offering, that I now know is his constant and repeated attempt to bond with me. Although I have a sinking suspicion this one is more offered as a distraction than anything. “Melion, move.”

He doesn’t move, though, just warbles nervously.