Page 49 of Cosmic Castaway


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“I need this, Flower.” I kept my focus on him, but I was desperate to see if he was hard like I was. Maybe this could become something else, after I secured his permissions. Though if he was too hurt to fuck, I could please him.

After a second, Bartholomew nodded.

I moved downward, letting my hair drag over him. Bartholomew shivered, and I grinned. He lay utterly still beneath me, except for his heaving chest. One glance at his groin made my soul throb. My mate was hard and pressing against his black trousers.

I rucked up the borrowed shirt he wore and carefully pulled it off. My arousal flagged. His arms had light scratches from the bushes or from falling, his elbows were raw, and I saw bruises all over his sides. I lifted one arm and began to clean it, paying particular attention to his elbows. Bartholomew winced and gasped occasionally, but I was careful to not cause him more pain.

When his arms were clean, I rolled him over and wanted to weep. His shoulders were swollen, and his back was coated in bruises that were steadily darkening. “My Flower,” I whispered, running my fingers over him, not using any pressure. My purple scales appeared even darker next to his skin, and my claws looked so dangerous in light of how delicate I’d learned he was.

“I’m okay,” he replied, voice shaky.

My fingers drifted to the band at the top of his trousers, dipping underneath. He gasped. “You are hurt here too. Can I remove them?”

“I’ll be naked.”

“Yes.” I tried to swallow the pleased groan. I needed him naked and against me, safe and warm.

He pressed his face into the blanket beneath him and nodded.

I pulled his trousers off, removing his socks and shoes on the way, leaving him bare. He was beautiful. His butt was covered in bruises, much like the rest of him, but my eyes caught on his dark hair. I brushed my fingers over one cheek, and he shuddered. I wanted to lift his hips and bury my face against him to taste his hole.

Ignoring the urge, I searched for cuts to clean. I spotted a small one beneath one of the dimples at the base of his spine. Bartholomew moaned, hips arching, but the pleasure-filled noise turned into a pained grunt.

“Don’t move,” I ordered. “I will take care of you.”

Every cut was thoroughly cleaned until Bartholomew was trembling beneath me. He was moaning, hips moving a bit. I licked his shoulder blades over the darkest bruises.

“Flower, I need you to roll over.”

He shook his head, cheeks and the tips of his ears red.

I chuckled. Bartholomew was shy about his arousal. “You don’t have to hide it,” I said. “I don’t care.” I loved it. I loved the fact that my touch was driving him to this. I bent and licked his spine, letting my hair dragged over his sensitive skin. He moaned louder, but still not loud enough for me. I licked and cleaned each bruise as his hips gently rocked.

When I reached the swell of his butt, I licked one cheek, and Bartholomew released a jagged cry of my name as his muscles tensed and his hips stuttered.

He was coming… and calling for me as he did. My cock grew even harder. It was beyond attractive that I’d made him release with such little stimulation. I licked his other cheek as Bartholomew moaned into the blanket beneath him.

He sagged, relaxing, his breath harsh.

My fingers twitched; I was burning with the urge to stroke myself off and release my seed on his back, but he was injured, and that was more important than any pleasure. “Can you roll over now that you are…” The word escaped me, or perhaps I never learned it. I’d never really discussed sex English with either of my mate-brothers. I settled with, “Satisfied?”

Bartholomew’s cheeks darkened. “N-no.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“No, Serlotminden.”

A claw ripped my gut at his angry tone. Had I messed up? Had I forced him to release when he did not wish for it?

“Can you leave for a minute?”

“What?”

“Leave, Mindy,” Bartholomew snapped, and I jerked back. He’d never talked to me like that before. Not once. Never had he gotten angry like that.

“Alright, Flower,” I said, voice barely audible, and I climbed out of the tent, my soul as cold as ice and shame filled me. I must have made a mistake again.

Embarrassment ripped through me. I’d fucking come from Mindy licking me, and not even anywhere exciting. I’d been so turned on from being naked with him, and I came. Who the fuck came from that? What was he going to think? We were friends. But who licked their friend’s ass? This had to be more.