“Miles,” I get out, my voice breaking.
“I’ve got you,” Miles says, and I can’t help but hear the conviction behind the words. “I promise, Timalah, I’ve got you.”
Miles’ hips pick up speed as he fucks into me, my orgasm rushing towards me, building and building. His hand wraps around my erection, taking a moment to run his fingers over my ridges before taking hold firmly and stroking. It’s all too much, but I don’t wanna come before him.
My tail unwraps from Miles’ middle, instead venturing to his ass. The firm tip wiggles its way between his cheeks, gently prodding at his hole. Miles’ eyes widen and his hips stutter.
“Oh god,” he gasps out. “Yes, Timalah. That’s so hot. Come on.”
With permission, I nudge my tail further until the very tip is breaching his ass. I gasp out at the warm tightness, overwhelmed that we are both inside each other right now. It’s too much for me to handle, especially with Miles’ grip just right around my cock. I cry out, tossing my head back as I come.
“Fuck,” Miles says through clenched teeth, his hips speeding up even further as my ass clamps down around him. It only takes a few more hard thrusts before he’s stilling. I moan as I feel his seed fill my ass, marking me from the inside.
Miles lets go of my cock and leans down on his forearms, hovering above me as he kisses me. His lips are so soft against my own, taking his time to explore my mouth, content to trade lazy kisses. His tongue slides over my fangs and we both smile.
My thumb runs over his cheek bone as we lay on our sides, our bodies cooling. He’s so achingly beautiful with his golden hair and brown eyes. Part of me wants to fight sleep just so I can watch Miles’ face all night. But the other part of me lets out a long yawn, exhaustion pulling at me after the whirlwind of emotions I’ve been hit with finally catches up to me.
Miles’ eyes blink slowly, his lips still curled up into a pleased smile. I love you, I think to myself. I love him so much. And it will break my heart if the ancestors look upon our union and don’t smile down on us.
I lean over, kissing Miles’ forehead gently before tucking my face against his pillow, breathing in his scent, hoping this won’t be the last time.
Chapter Eight
Miles
Breathing deeply, I center myself, letting the cool morning air quiet my mind. As I breathe out, grey clouds puff out and I’m glad I’d thought to grab a sweater since the air is chilly. I raise my hands over my head, opening up my chest and letting air fill my lungs, holding it for a moment. Then I release all the tension in my core and back as I fall forward, letting my hands dangle down near my ankles. I groan as my lower back stretches and pulls.
I hear my back door open and footsteps coming out of the house. I look under my arm, finding Timalah sitting on my back steps, just watching me. I smirk to myself as I let my hands drop onto the ground, making sure my feet are still planted, my ass up in the air. The groan I hear makes my chest flutter. This playfulness makes my stomach giddy as I give the tiniest shake of my ass.
I crawl my hands forward until my legs and groin are against my ground, my chest still raised up in the air. I wiggle my ass back and forth a little bit, getting the last of the kinks out. And if I’m putting on a little show, well, I’m sure Timalah doesn’t mind.
The looseness I feel from doing my morning yoga is a well needed breath of fresh air. Ever since Saphorica’s maturous trial, Timalah has been acting funny. I’m still not sure he knows he told me he loved me. It was telepathically and in the heat of the moment but he’d thought it. He loves me.
I can’t stop the little smile that plays at my lips as I slowly crawl my hands back up until my hands are around my ankles, my chest pressed against my upper thighs. Then I slowly bring my arms out to my sides as I uncurl myself, standing up straight with my shoulders back.
“You should really learn something other than that silly yoga, Miles. Yoga won’t help in a fight.”
There’s that weird voice again. One that’s hiding something big, something serious. I wish he’d just tell me what’s going on but I don’t wanna push him. This thing between us is so new, so delicate. All I wanna do is shield it, like a flower in frost. Whatever’s going on, I have to trust he’ll tell me when the time is right.
Ever since the night Timalah showed up at my house and confessed how desperate he was for me, he’s been staying here. It’s been a few weeks and I’m happy. The other shoe is going to drop soon, I just know it, and I’m hoping whatever it is, we can handle it.
I let out a long sigh.
“Then why don’t you come over here and show me something,” I tell him, looking over my shoulder with a wink, concentrating on my breathing and stretching in order to keep that centered and loose feeling going.
Timalah’s brows wrinkle. He stands up, pulling a blade from his chest harness. And what does it say about me that the action makes my cock twitch in my pants? He tosses the blade into the air and I watch transfixed as it flips around before he’s catching the handle. He does it again and this time catches the blade, offering the handle to me.
I gingerly take it, testing the weight of it. It’s made for someone with hands like Timalah’s, not like mine. I grip it tight, turning my back to Timalah and stabbing the air a few times. I hold out my arm, the sharp edge pointed towards the ground. I bring it over my head, taking a few joking stabs like a classic horror film I once saw, letting out a snort of amusement at my own antics.
“See?” I say, turning to Timalah. “No big deal.”
Timalah pinches the bridge of his nose, looking less impressed than I feel. I shrug, not really knowing what he wants from me.
“I was an EMT,” I point out. “I didn’t really need to know how to use a knife in my past life. I was the one patching up knife wounds not inflicting them.”
“Yes,” Timalah says carefully. “I understand. And I wish to keep it that way. I want you coming out on top no matter what’s coming against you.”
“Then show me,” I tell him, turning forward once more and holding out the knife.
I suck in a sharp breath as Timalah steps into my space. He’s pressed up against my back and the heat of him there makes my heart pick up speed. Our height difference gives him the perfect advantage to help me with my posture. He widens my stance and pushes me down so I’m crouched slightly. His hands slide over my hips and then my belly. “Your power comes from here, just like your silly yoga,” he whispers, his breath fanning over my ear and making me shiver.
“Okay,” I whisper back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The heat at my back is distracting but I do my best to focus.
Timalah’s left hand stays planted against my belly, his right sliding up the underside of my arm. He changes the way I’m holding the knife, adjusting my grip. Before I held it like I was going to poke someone with it, now I hold it with purpose. “There you go, Dorshkah. Just like that,” he tells me and the praise washes over me. I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from outright moaning.
Timalah’s left leg moves forward and I follow the motion. He guides my hand across my body, showing me exactly how I could use the blade if I needed. Then he brings my arm back. The way he’s moving me, guiding me; it’s like an intricate and intimate dance. My breathing speeds up and so does his until he’s panting against my ear.