He pulls on a pair of trou, and for the next while, I clip his claws down as short as I can and then file the rough edges. I work on his toes, too, squaring down his nails so they look a bit more like mine. I'm not a hundred percent sure how alien nails are supposed to look, but he seems pleased with the results. When I'm done, he lifts one finger, scratches at the sleeve of my tunic, and grins when the fabric doesn't tear.
"Perfect," he says, and immediately hauls me into his arms.
I squeak as he lifts me into the air, my breasts over his shoulder. I cling to his head so I don't lose my balance. "Victor! Put me down!"
"Soon," he promises. "I want my kiss."
He carries me into the living area of the small house, heading for his seat with the pillow. When he sits, he pulls me into his lap, settling me on his thigh. One big hand goes to my backside and he tugs me in close, pulling me against his chest. His eyes are bright as they search my face, and he must like what he sees, because that faint purr starts up again. "May I kiss you now?"
Breathless, I nod.
Part of me expects him to cup my face again, but he hauls me up by my bottom and plasters me against his chest. I adjust my legs, sliding them over his hips until I'm straddling his big body. I'm panting with excitement when he drags me up against him and presses his mouth to mine. It's a light, chaste kiss at first, as if testing the waters. But I'm just as eager for more as he is, and I slide my hands to his neck, holding on to him as I open my lips in silent invitation. The next time he kisses me, it's with fierce abandon, his tongue brushing against mine. His mouth meets mine, tasting and teasing with every flick of his tongue, until I'm practically rubbing myself against his chest as we kiss, letting the friction work magic on my nipples.
Victor kisses as if he's a dying man and I'm his last breath. He kisses me with such fierce intensity that I forget everything but the next brush of his mouth over mine, the next dip of his tongue against mine. I've never craved a kiss like I crave his, and it's all because he makes me feel like I'm the only thing in the world that matters. That I'm the most desirable creature he's ever seen, and he'll die if he doesn't have more of me in the next moment.
"You smell so keffing good, Bee," he growls between kisses. He grips my hips and drags me over his clothed cock. "I want to touch you all over. I want my mouth all over this soft little body of yours."
I whimper, because the hard bulge of his cock feels good between my legs, and yet I know it's dangerous. Terribly, terribly dangerous. I know I can't have what I want, but it doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves. So I kiss him again, showing him all of the excitement I'm feeling, and then pull back. "Victor…can I touch you?"
He pulls back, giving me a curious look. "You are touching me."
I shake my head, because he's not understanding. I reach down between us and run my thumb over the head of his cock.
The breath hisses out from between his teeth. "Bee." My name is a ragged syllable on his lips. "You shouldn't—"
"We can touch a little," I promise him. "Carefully." I stroke a hand down his chest and then graze the head of his cock again. "Do you trust me enough to let me make you come?"
He hauls me up against him again, startling me, and then he's pressing his mouth to mine again. It's more tusk than lip, but I can feel his big body trembling slightly under mine. It's like his need is so great he doesn't know how to express it, and it melts my heart.
We kiss again, and I nip at his lower lip, then soothe it with my tongue. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise."
"I'm yours, Bee." His gaze is intense as he watches me, so full of hunger that it makes my pussy clench. No one has ever looked at me like that. Like I could destroy him with a breath. "But only if you want to."
"Oh, I want to," I promise him. "Can't you smell how much I want it?"
He groans, his eyes wide, and gives me a jerky nod. "Keffing love your smell," he grits out. "So good."
My pussy clenches again, and I'm so wet that when I shift my weight, I can feel the slickness of my folds brush against each other. I haven't been this wet in god knows how long, and it feels good. It feels…powerful, for a change. I'm in control, and I'm bringing this terrifying, fierce man to his knees with the promise of a touch.
God, I love it.
With a little wriggle, I slide off his lap entirely and get to my feet. Victor starts to get up after me, clearly not grasping what I plan on doing, and I put a hand on his chest. "You stay right there. Relax. Let me take care of you again." I step between his thighs and slide my arms around his neck, then give him a teasing, nipping kiss. "Let me make you feel good."
"Bee," he groans, clearly at the end of his rope…or so he thinks.
Sweet man. He really has no idea.
I continue to kiss him, even as I reach down and rub the bulge of his cock. I do so with light, gentle fingers, because I don't want those barbs hurting him, but he seems to enjoy my touch. I feather my fingertips over his length, from tip to sac, and because he's so big, I can't kiss his mouth all the way through it. I make sure I'm kissing his chest or neck, though, because I can't get enough of him.
"Bee," he calls again, reaching for me. His hand moves over my shoulder, then cups one of my breasts through the fabric of my tunic. "Bee, let me touch you—"
"You are," I promise him. I want this to be about him feeling good. About him realizing that just because he's got, well, barbs, it doesn't mean he's not worthy of being touched. He's made me feel so many things that I thought were dead inside me. I absolutely want to make him come, and I'm going to do whatever I can so he doesn't feel like he's missing out.
So I undo the fastener on his trou and pull the fabric down, careful to avoid his barbs. He looks just as rigid and enormous as I remember, and the head of his cock is wet with pre-cum. His sac is tight between his thighs, and I trace a finger over it. His skin is incredibly soft here, but when his tail twitches, I back off in case it's too much. I concentrate on the head of his cock instead, drawing teasing circles in the slickness there and rubbing it over and over again. I settle one hand on his chest, over his nipple, and brush it with my thumb as I tilt my face up towards his for a kiss.
He cups my face, groaning, and practically devours my mouth. "You…" he manages. "Bee…"
"Tell me to stop if something doesn't feel good," I say between urgent kisses. He bites at my lip, his big body straining under me, and I move my fingers faster, teasing his nipple and the tip of his cock with quicker motions.
Victor's fingers curl against my neck and he closes his eyes, his mouth against mine. Not kissing—he's too distracted. His hips jerk and the head of his cock bobs against my fingers, as if he's desperately trying to stop himself from pumping into my grip.
"Let go," I whisper against his lips, rubbing the head of his cock. "Let go."
"Need…"
"More?" I prompt, understanding. "If I give you more, do you promise not to move?" And I squeeze the head of his cock with a circle of my fingers.