Page 110 of Thexan

“I want all of you hard and fast, until there’s no space between us for doubt or misunderstanding,” I told him.

His eyes widened slightly, then darkened with desire. “As you wish,” he growled, and then he was entering me with a single, smooth thrust that stole my breath.

The sensation was exquisite—a perfect balance of pleasure and pressure that sent sparks dancing behind my eyes. As Thexan’s ridged anatomy dragged against my inner walls with each withdrawal, I cried out with pleasure, holding tightly across the powerful muscles of his back.

We found our rhythm together, building quickly this time. There was no ceremony, no ritual—only raw, primal need. The need to reconnect, to reaffirm, to reclaim what we had almost lost.

Our coupling was a melding of differences and similarities—the texture of scales against my smooth skin, his alien body finding perfect harmony with my human responses. Rather than wrap my legs around his waist, I kept my feet flat on the bed to give me leverage to meet his thrusts to take them as deeply as possible. I claimed him with my body as I claimed him with my mind.

“You are mine,” I reminded, my voice breathy with passion.

He met my gaze, his golden eyes burning with intensity. “And you are mine, Brynn,” he panted. “Always.”

My orgasm built rapidly, coiling tight in my belly before releasing in a blinding rush of ecstasy. As I cried out my release, Thexan followed me over the edge with a guttural cry that was part human, part something wilder.

His body shuddered against mine as his climax erupted, a hot, pulsing flood that filled my depths. Something shifted then—a swelling at the base of his shaft that locked us together, intimate and inescapable.

Thexan immediately shifted his weight, supporting himself on his forearms so he wouldn’t crush me, his face buried in my neck.

Then he raised his head and looked into my eyes.

“Brynn,” he panted. “Are you all right?”

“I’m good,” I assured him, running my fingers over the ridges along his head. “I have you right where I want you.”

He lifted his head to look at me, and I saw wonder in his eyes. “You are extraordinary, meora.”

“So are you,” I whispered, pulling him down for another kiss. I moaned as his knot inside me expanded.

“Is the knot uncomfortable?”

“It’s not,” I interrupted. “I’ve come to enjoy it. I like being close to you like this.”

I was content to have him in my arms for as long as it took, to feel his weight pressing me into the mattress, to be connected in this most elemental way.

We lay tangled together afterward, our breathing slowly returning to normal as his knot gradually diminished. The silence that returned was different now—not heavy with unspoken tension, but comfortable, companionable.

When he finally withdrew from me, I felt a moment of emptiness before Thexan gathered me into his arms. His scales were warm, saturated with our combined body heat.

“I am yours, always,” he murmured in his native tongue, though I understood the meaning perfectly.

“And I am yours,” I replied, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Always.”

As we lay back together, naked in each other’s arms, I knew I was profoundly happy. The misunderstanding had been painful, but it had taught me something valuable—what we had was worth fighting for, worth protecting, worth cherishing.

I closed my eyes, anchored by the weight of him, and let the world narrow to this one moment we had reclaimed before it could be taken again.

Thexan

Afterward, Brynn remained close.

That was the first thing I allowed myself to register fully, before sound, before movement beyond the room, before any renewed assessment of threat or obligation. Her body rested against mine with a trust that did not require alertness, and the steady warmth of her presence settled through the bond in a way that made the earlier conflict feel both recent and distant. The argument had not disappeared. Its consequences remained, not as damage, but as alteration. Something between us had been tested and had held.

I did not mistake that for completion.

This bond, this relationship, this life she occupied and had now made room for me inside—it would require continued adjustment. I had already made errors. I would make more. Brynn had accepted that, but she had not excused it, and the distinction mattered. She had not asked me to become less vigilant or less protective. She had demanded that protection include her will, her judgment, and her right to stand beside me even when my every instinct insisted that distance might reduce danger.

I had understood the words when she spoke them.