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I feel them pressing out further, my slit dripping as he continues to thrust against me, making my nails extend, making the urge to bite him grow.

I am not in rut, but I am close. I can feel the need to have him growing more with each passing moment, and Luca must feel how much I want him. I am in his head, our souls connected.

His lips rip from mine, his arms bracing his body above me. I am unhappy about the loss of his mouth on mine, but the way his cock feels against me, the way he continues to rock his hips back and forth, the way my tail is prodding at his tight opening…

His head falls back, exposing the long line of his throat, and my fangs extend even more, my nails digging into his bare hips.

He lets out a groan, and I know how close he is, how much he needs to come. I cannot waste it.

I roll us over, the sound coming from his mouth one of protest and urgency. I do not make my Luca wait. Instead, I pull his cock between my lips, and I suck.

His hips buck up, and I swallow his immediate release. The taste of it has my cocks pulsing with need, but I know I cannot.

I simply cannot.

So, I continue to suck, wishing he had taken ruenox so I could drink my fill, but this must be enough.

I let my mouth leave him, and I glance up at his heaving body. His arm is thrown over his face, his mouth open with soft gasps.

My head rests against his thigh, and I feel his hand come down and touch the shell of my ear, his fingers massaging the tip. They flutter against his touch, and I want to lie here forever.

And why can I not, a part of me asks. Why can I not have what I want? But I know why. It is too dangerous.

The thought has my cocks retracting, pushing back into my slit, my body stiffening.

I roll off of him, and his hand falls away from me, the gap between us widening. It is lonely here, watching and wanting, always beside what I cannot have.

He must feel it, the change in me, because he enters my mind, a soft flutter of hands, not pushing, but asking. Begging.

Hold me.

I want to, desperately. But holding him is what broke me. I failed to keep myself away. I cannot do that again. When I do not move fast enough, Luca sighs and turns onto his side, pulling the cover over his naked body, hiding him from me. I do not like this but, I understand.

I should get up and leave him, but I do not. Instead, I crawl up to the other side of the bed and watch as he falls asleep once more.

The line of tension between us is less by the time Luca emerges from his slumber. He slept more than most humans do—more than Kori ever did—but I also know that his body is still healing.

I have been putting fresh zitha in his food whenever he allows me to cook for him, but his injuries were so grave, I’m surprised he’s as functional as he is. He is strong, my Luca.

He must sense that thought because he’s halfway through a loud yawn when he turns and quirks an eyebrow at me. His head tilts to the side as he observes me, then he crosses the room, lifts his hands, and hesitates.

I feel a pulse from him. He wants to touch. I know that I should push him away. It doesn’t matter that I gave in last night. I must be careful.

But right now, I want to indulge him a little. In his anger, he let loose all the ways he was suffering, and I could feel the ache of missing his home deep in my chest. I cannot give him what he needs. I cannot give him what he wants.

But I can give him something.

I step into his touch, letting his hands slide up my pecs where they come to rest on the tops of my shoulders. He gives a satisfied hum and turns his face up as though he means to kiss me, but before I can decide if I want to allow that, a heavy force hits him hard enough to knock us both to the ground.

He lets out a soft grunting cry as I catch him and wrap my arms and tail around him. I cushion our fall as my back hits the unforgiving stone.

Luca stares at me for a second, splayed out on my chest, before he turns his head. “Gerald!” he cries angrily.

My brows dip into a frown as he climbs off me, and it’s only then I see the kradun toddling off to go rearrange the sitting area. Luca’s fingers are snapping at him, but his back is to me so I can’t see what he’s signing.

When I tap him on the shoulder, he turns and makes a sharp sign I don’t recognize.

‘Don’t know word,’ I tell him.