“A mating blanket for our first-whelped,” gently unfolding it so that he can see.
I haven’t kept its creation a secret, exactly, but this is the first time he’s seen the whole of this treasure I’m crafting. A mating blanket is an item of great pride among our people; a courting tool and custom, what a male displays for his intended, with the flashing, lustrous scales of his ancestors carefully sewn onto the fabric. It’s his pedigree, laid out in cloth and scales and string, a thing of beauty fit for his future mate to wear when they join together.
That Matthew’s family has no scales to represent them is no matter. Locks of hair were sent for (a feat made feasible because his entire clan joined us on my home planet some months ago), and I’ve been incorporating them into the canvas, this symbol of our joined lives.
“Inara…” Matthew breathes, unintentionally causing my ear to flutter from his lips’ proximity and his warm, tickling breath. “This is for Kash?”
“It is,” I murmur, turning enough to kiss his jaw. His short-shorn hairs still register to my senses, but they no longer feel strange.
They feel… like Matthew. They feel exciting and comforting and right.
I’ve been lightly shimmying against him since his arms encircled me, and my efforts have not been in vain. At my kiss, he brings his hips harder against me, and at my lower back, I feel his hardness has taken shape.
His claw-less hands find my hips, his fingers biting into my scaled flesh as he steadies me, acting as if he must pin me in place in order to introduce me to his member.
My tail twitches to the side, the end of it curling around his ankle and sliding up his leg, tailblades tapping along his hard thigh while I ponder the merits of slicing his pants off of him for the sheer shock value before he takes me.
Because I do the mending in the house, I know I could repair any damage… but it’s too wasteful for me to act on. Instead, I reach back, placing my hand on his rump, digging my claws into his muscle, enjoying his growl at my ear as he hugs me to him, bringing his hips harder to my backside, pinning my front to the edge of the table.
With sure hands, he bunches my dress, yanking it up until he can shove it above my hips, baring me to his seeking touch.
“I’ve been thinking of you all daycycle,” I explain, as his questing finger sinks into me. “Of last night, the way you took me with your mouth.”
“Wet enough to drown in, fuck,” he says to me, voice rough and excited at the state I’m in. He straightens, but doesn’t drop my dress. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking of last night either.” He brings himself against me, the bite of his buckle exciting me like a nip, his hardness thrilling me as he displays for me what thoughts of us do to him.
“Are you going to take me here?” I ask, realizing how titillated the idea makes me feel. Now that we have a litter, we rarely get to ‘Christen the rest of our cave with lovemaking,’ to borrow my mate’s phrasing.
“There won’t be a better chance,” he says with a grin he makes sure I feel because he says it into my throat before he lays another kiss on me. “Hands on the table,” he orders.
“Wait,” I pant, turning in his arms, running my touch along his chest. “I want to undress you.”
With a pleased smirk, he backs up, giving me space to work his clothes off the way I like—hungrily, and with careful nips and eager kisses to his human skin.
He feels wonderful to me, everywhere I touch him. But when I’ve freed the length of his passion and he draws my thigh up, catching me behind the knee and pressing me to rest my hind on the table, it’s safe to say this part of him is currently the most wonderful of all as he drives himself inside me.
But then his mouth comes to mine, taking my lips, and his hands clutch my hip, my waist—and I love these touches from him just as much. “Inara,” he moans raggedly into my hairstrands as he thrusts deep.
Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I hang onto him, kissing along the wide bones at his collar, showing him a little bit of my teeth before I lave away their pricks. “Fuck me harder, Matthew,” I order.
He does. But soon his kisses turn gentle, the action of his hips matching his loving mood.
Which is appreciated, of course, but here in our kitchen in this stolen moment together, I don’t want to be savored. I want to be devoured.
Tightening my arms, bringing him closer, I fit my lips against his left ear, and whisper, “I can’t wait for you to cum in me. I’ve waited all day for you to fill me up until I’m dripping with your seed.”
“Dammit,” he groans, bringing his hips roughly against mine, holding tight, baring his teeth, only four of which look particularly sharp. “I’m so close, you can’t talk filthy, baby, or this’ll be over.”
“Oh,” I pip as if I’m shocked. But I slide my hands down his muscled back, and lower. “Then I’ll just hold you here,” I say, digging my claws into the tight flesh of his muscled rump. Matthew loves this; it almost always drives him from his control. “I’ll grip this sweet ass while you take your time doing your husbandly duties.”
Matthew chokes on a laugh and drops his face into my shoulder. He’s always amused whenever I refer to his hindquarters using the same terms he does to refer to mine. “Don’t be cute either.”
I’d smile, but without warning he heeds my desire, driving into me, making me gasp instead. He opens his mouth around my shoulder, and sinks his teeth into my scaled flesh.
“Ah!” I cry out, titillated by his ferocity. Thrilled at this possessive display, a supreme show of affection between mated Rakhii. The act triggers my completion: I come around his cock, squeezing his driving length like a fist.
“Sonovabitch,” he mutters before he catches the helix of my ear in his lips, nibbling on it lightly enough to make shivers dance up and down my whole body.
My insides clamp down on him even stronger.
In response, he locks to me, frozen, shoving himself so deep I feel his hot seed erupt against my womb, soaking my insides with his culmination.
A sudden knock at the door has him growling and tightening his hold on me, and I on him.
He turns his head to save my delicate hearing. “GET LOST,” he roars.
“Oh my Creator,” I hear my brother, Arokh, mutter from the other side of the door. “Are you breeding on Inara?” Angie tries without success to shush him, but he calls, “In the middle of the day?”
He sounds scandalized, as if he doesn’t chase his mate around at lunchtime. Which I know for a fact he does because Angie told all of us how she missed taking her birth control after he distracted her two middays in a row, and now she’s certain she’s pregnant. Again.
Matthew has no patience for interruptions when we’re twined together. “Yeah! I’m balls deep in your little sister. Happy?”
I gasp, and my mate winces and kisses my forehead apologetically, his irritation checked, but too late, his rash words already released.
“No,” Arokh replies, disgusted. “We eat in your kitchen!” His words travelling as if he’s swiftly guiding Angie (or being guided by Angie) away.
“Then next time fuck off when I tell you to,” Matthew grouses, not shouting, but loudly enough to be heard by Rakhii ears if my brother is at all still in the vicinity.