The Clone’s Mate by Susan Trombley

Thirty-Seven

Our sleeping arrangement wasn’t ideal, but it was the only one I could feel comfortable with, at least until Ilyan and Nirgal got along better. Perhaps they would never be okay with sleeping in the same bed with me at the same time. Honestly, it wasn’t a terrible idea for all of us to have our own personal space anyway, so each of us had a room to ourselves.

Subject 34 didn’t bother with his, choosing instead to sleep on the floor beside my bed in my room because he preferred the hard tile to the soft foam mattress where he felt like he was sinking. If, for whatever reason, he couldn’t be in my room when he slept, he would sleep in the hallway outside my door. He didn’t like being far from me, especially after being tricked by Evil Ilyan. He confessed that he was afraid I would be taken from him again.

I could cuddle with him and even fall asleep in his arms, but only if I joined him on the floor, which I didn’t mind doing. He really didn’t like soft furniture at all.

Nirgal and Ilyan planned to alternate their nights spent in my bed for sleep, though all three of my mates wanted to have sex with me every day, and I figured we would definitely need to set some kind of schedule after I made up for lost time with them. They would wear me out quickly otherwise.

On our first night in our new home, Nirgal, Ilyan, and I explored the kitchen, then they figured out how all the fancy appliances worked for me so that I could make them all dinner from the food that had been supplied to us by our hosts.

They watched me prepare the roast and potatoes curiously, and I even caught Nirgal making some notes on his new tablet, which made me grin.

The conversation between the three of us flowed surprisingly easily, with Subject 34 occasionally adding some short remark that demonstrated not only that he was following the conversation, but he had his own thoughts about the topics in discussion.

Nirgal and Ilyan continued to snipe at each other, obviously competing when it came to everything they did, and I had to wrestle the potato peeler appliance away from them as they fought over which one got to help me.

Despite their apparent antagonism, their constant ragging on each other took on a more playful and teasing tone as we all grew more relaxed in our new home. Subject 34 occasionally spoke up to let them know he thought they were both idiots.

As we sat down for dinner, the roast cooking phenomenally fast in the fancy high-tech oven, I looked at my little family seated around a dinner table, right here on my home soil of Earth. Each one of them was dear to me, and each of them had made my life so much better than I could have ever dreamed of. Everything that I’d been through to get to this point was so worth the end result.

Then Subject 34 scarfed down the entire roast in a few alarming bites and my Iriduans yelled at him and threw potatoes at him, and Nirgal said that it was time to move on to Subject 35, which made 34 toss the table, sending dishes flying.

Next thing I knew, all three of them were flying around the living room in a free-for-all melee. Obviously, 34 dominated the fight, but Nirgal and Ilyan were working together to flank him and gain an edge, eventually managing to drag him back to the floor where all three of them crashed with a loud thud.

I would have been screaming for them to stop, worried about their safety, if I couldn’t tell that Subject 34 was only playing around. His stingers remained sheathed, his pincers never extended, and he took care not to toss my Iriduans around too hard.

Sure, they made an absolute mess in our dining room, but the cleaner robot was already mopping up potatoes and gravy as I watched my mates roughhousing.

The battle ended in a draw, mostly because 34 wasn’t using his full strength or speed. If I ever needed any reassurance that he wouldn’t hurt my other mates, this little fight was it. Despite the violence of their unexpected combat, my heart soared, because they were bonding in a way I hadn’t hoped for so soon after settling here.

34 toppling the table had left Ilyan covered in gravy, so he made his way to the bathroom after they all picked themselves up and dusted off. I rushed to check on Nirgal, who was brushing off his suit and checking his wings. After a quick kiss that lasted far longer than I intended, I went to make sure that Ilyan wasn’t too bruised up as Nirgal headed back to the refrigerator to seek an alternate meal.

I heard the shower running in the master bathroom that adjoined my room and I knocked on the door, asking him if he was alright.

“I’m not sure, Rhonda,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “I think I might be injured. Perhaps you can come in here and examine me.”

Okay, I fell for it. I’m not gonna lie. I rushed into the bathroom, my heart in my throat, worried that I’d been too casual about the fight when maybe it had been more serious. Or at least had more serious consequences. Obviously 34 wasn’t trying to hurt my Iriduans, but he was so much stronger than they were.

Inside the steam-filled bathroom, Ilyan stood under the shower head, water sluicing over his body, now filling out to look much healthier, lean muscle tone rippling beneath his iridescent skin as he lifted both arms to rinse out his hair.

“Where are you hurt?” I said, barely pausing to take in the gorgeous view of my handsome mate standing there wet and naked behind the foggy glass doors.

He moaned pitifully. “Everywhere. I think you need to check every inch of my body to assess my injuries.”

Then he turned his face away from the showerhead, meeting my eyes with a sly grin on his lips.

Clarity struck, though some would probably say I should have seen through his ploy sooner. I thought about being mad that he worried me unnecessarily, but then he gestured with one hand for me to join him, and I threw all thoughts of punishing him for teasing me out the window.

Then I threw off my jumpsuit and pulled aside the glass door.

His skin was slippery and hot from the water temperature that made me hiss as it struck me. With a word he commanded the shower to lower the temperature to my preferred level as he pulled me against his naked body.

His erection already jutted from his groin, and my belly pinned it between us. He took advantage of this to rub it against my mound, the pressure of that hard ridge stroking over my clit. His hands roved over my skin as his lips closed over mine, cutting off my moan of pleasure.

“I want to taste you,” he said when we broke the kiss long enough to catch our breaths.

Little gasps escaped me as he continued to rub his shaft between my folds to tease my swollen nub.

I clung to his slippery shoulders as he kissed his way down my body. He paused at my chest to suckle each of my breasts in turn, his tongue flicking over my nipples as my hips writhed against his lower body, driving my clit harder against his stiff erection.

“Oh yes,” I said breathlessly while the water continued to rain down on us as he knelt in front of me.

His lips found my clit, sucking on it as they had on my nipples, his tongue teasing over the sensitive pearl until I was crying out with pleasure. My fingers clenched in his wet hair as his mouth worked over my clit. By the time he slipped two fingers inside my slit, I was far more slippery inside than the water had made my body.

My orgasm came swiftly, and I braced myself against the cool tile with one hand while my other shifted to grip Ilyan’s shoulder. His muscles rippled under my palm as he grabbed my thigh with his free hand and pulled it over his shoulder. His mouth still on me, he pushed me back against the wall to further brace me.

His tongue replaced his fingers, licking my soaking slit, then delving inside my still convulsing passage. The fingers he’d been thrusting inside me moved to my throbbing clit to rub it in teasing circles until I came a second time, my body jerking against the wall, pinned to it by his head between my legs.

His wings battered my calf with his own excitement, flinging water droplets everywhere, but my eyes were closed with ecstasy, so I barely noticed as they spattered over me, competing with the downward fall of the shower spray.

He ate his fill, leaving me begging for mercy, before finally releasing my leg. He rose gracefully to his feet, his eyes nearly black as he caught me by the shoulders. I leaned in to kiss him, but he spun me to face the wall before our lips met.

His hands slipped around my waist as he nipped and kissed my shoulder and neck. He slid them upwards to cup and massage my breasts as he rubbed his erection against my lower back and buttocks. His cerci came into play then, vibrating as one stroked over my clit and the other slipped between my legs.

I gasped as the clawed tip of it parted my folds, recalling what his fracture had done to me. More of my slick dampened my entrance at the memory.

He nipped the delicate skin at my neck as his hands moved to my arms, sliding down them to capture my wrists. He lifted my hands and pressed them against the tile, his body crowding me against the hard surface of the wall.

His cercus pushed further inside me, vibrating against my sensitive inner flesh as it sank deeper.

“The things I want to do to you,” he said in a guttural growl as he nipped my shoulder hard enough to get a yelp from me. “I should not even think them.” His hands pinned mine to the tile as I shivered at the rough sound of his voice. “But if I had you at my mercy, my queen… ah, the things I would do to your sweet body.”

As if to punctuate his point, his cercus thrust deeper, the sharp tip dangerously close to scraping my inner walls. But it wasn’t that risk that made my inner muscles tighten around it. I recalled very well what the barbs currently rippling within me felt like when fully extended.

To my relief—or perhaps disappointment, since I still felt confused about the pleasure-pain experience of them scraping me—he withdrew his cercus without extending his barbs. His feet pushed mine further apart as he shifted his hips against my buttocks so that his erection traced my crack downwards until it slipped between my legs.

His hands pushed harder against mine as he buried his length inside me in one hard thrust. We both moaned loud enough to compete against the sound of the shower running.

“Ah, Rhonda,” he said, peppering my neck with kisses. “You feel so good. The way I want to claim you, the way I want to play with your beautiful body, makes me think Nirgal is right.” He thrust hard into me, rocking my hips forward until my mound bumped against the tile. His cercus still toyed with my clit, the other now sliding around my waist towards my back entrance.

“Right about what?” I managed to gasp as he pumped into me again.

My nipples tightened further as his weight settled against my back, bringing him closer and giving him more leverage to drive deep.

“Maybe you gave the nickname Evil Ilyan to the wrong part of me.” He bit my shoulder, causing me to cry out in surprise more than pain at the unexpected sting of his teeth.

At the same time, he began to pound into me from behind, his hands leaving mine to stroke down my body, rubbing all over my water-slicked naked flesh as he screwed me hard. All the while, one cercus teased my clit and the other poked exploringly at my back hole.

The clawed tip delved inside that tight entrance just as I climaxed, and my orgasm seemed to trigger his. His seed shot into me with strong movements of his shaft against my convulsing inner walls.

“I hope you can forgive me, my queen.” His voice was muffled as he pressed his lips to the tender spot on my neck. “Tell me to stop if I ever make you uncomfortable, and I will. I swear it. I can never hurt you, Rhonda. Not unless you want me to.”

I shivered at the promise in the tone of his voice as he said those last words. Then I grinned against the tile, my heart still pounding and my breath still panting out of me. “I don’t recall saying anything about stopping.”

He moaned against my neck, then inhaled deeply before pressing a kiss to my throbbing pulse. His cercus probed a little deeper into my rosette. “I researched human sexuality after… some time ago. I learned about the things your people do to each other for pleasure. There are so many I want to experiment with, so many I want to try, and you are the only subject that I desire, my queen. Will you let me experiment on you?”

I tilted my hips backwards, spreading my cheeks wider in the process even as my buttocks pushed against his lower body.

“Hell yes!” I said with conviction, then a long moan left me as his cercus delved deeper into my back hole. His shaft remained stiff inside me even though I could feel the wet slide of his seed down my inner thighs.

“I’m so glad you said that,” he purred in my ear as he pushed deeper into my rosette—a place I’d only let Michael enter on the rare occasions where I was drunk enough to be relaxed so it didn’t hurt as much.

Right now, the discomfort was negligible compared to my excitement and the pleasure I felt as he began to thrust inside my tender inner passage again.

I would be walking funny in the morning, I suspected, but I didn’t give a damn. I’d let Ilyan experiment on my body all night long.