Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Your skin is so soft,” Aksel said, pressing his thumb into his belly button. “Mine is like sandpaper compared to yours. You’re so soft everywhere.” His hand moved upward, over his ribcage before cupping his chest. “You’re even softer here. Like silk.”
Lucien let out a fond, long-suffering sigh, squirming a little. He probably shouldn’t be allowing this, but he could never tell him no. Over the years, he had become conditioned to Aksel’s touch to the point that nothing Aksel did seemed outrageous, and the problem had become worse since Aksel’s illness—since Aksel had started touching him there. When Aksel touched him there, it was about the only time Lucien didn’t feel disgusted with his body. The fat protrusions on his chest didn’t feel revolting and alien when Aksel touched them with obvious appreciation. Thanks to Aksel’s reverent touches, he’d learned to accept his body—for the most part. He’d even come to think of his protrusions as breasts.
“Fuck,” Aksel said hoarsely, squeezing his breasts. “Your tits feel amazing.”
“Don’t call my chest that,” Lucien said, flushing. “And you shouldn’t touch me there. It’s not at all proper. You aren’t a child.”
He could feel that Aksel was smiling against his nape. “But I haven’t presented yet,” he said. “Until I do, it’s perfectly fine. Right?”
Lucien’s forehead wrinkled. “There’s a flaw in that logic somewhere...” God, it was simply hard to think when he felt so nice. Whenever Aksel touched his skin, he always felt a rush of happiness-goodness-rightness, and Aksel’s emotions only amplified his own, because he liked pleasing Aksel a little too much.
“Your tits feel very full,” Aksel said, kneading his breasts, his voice low. “Do you need me to help you out?”
Lucien caught his bottom lip between his teeth, hesitating. His chest did feel uncomfortably full, but he couldn’t keep accepting Aksel’s help. Yet he couldn’t not accept it, either.
It had become something of a dilemma over the past few months.
He had been supposed to stop feeding Aksel a few months ago, when his hormones finally stabilized and he recovered from his illness. Lucien had fully intended to stop feeding him as soon as Aksel started eating regular food. But he hadn’t foreseen how hard it would be to stop. Aksel wasn’t a baby. He drank a lot. And Lucien’s body had adjusted accordingly over the months he breastfed him, producing so much milk that it was incredibly painful to stop feeding him completely.
Every attempt to stop had ended in pain and tears. The drugs for stopping lactation didn’t work well on Dainiri omegas, so Lucien had to end the breastfeeding naturally. Unfortunately, his stupid, broken body didn’t seem to understand that it needed to stop producing milk. Over the past few months, Lucien had managed to decrease the amount of his milk, but he still needed to express it every few days. Unfortunately, his milk ducts were prone to clogging and sometimes only Aksel’s mouth could help.
There was also... the embarrassing, shameful part of him that longed for the feel of Aksel’s mouth on his nipples, sucking hard and bringing the long-awaited relief. It felt so good, to have his breasts sucked by Aksel’s hot, hungry mouth, to feel the pleasure Aksel emanated, to bask in the warmth of the act, the sweet, golden connection between them. He’d never felt closer to another person than when Aksel drank his milk. He wasn’t sure why it felt so good with Aksel, but it did. Lucien loved having him so close—he always wanted him even closer. Part of him was absolutely loath to give it up.
But he must give it up. The act might be innocent, but it was getting inappropriate, considering that Aksel no longer needed it and was way too old to be breastfed.
“Come on,” Aksel said, squeezing his right breast. “Your tits are so firm. I can tell it’s painful for you. Let me help.”
“You know I’m trying to stop lactating,” Lucien said. “If you keep drinking it, my milk won’t go away.”
Aksel massaged his chest, his strong fingers kneading the firm, aching flesh. “Who cares? I don’t like seeing you hurt. It’s been two days since I helped you. You’re nearly bursting, Lucien. You need my mouth.”
Lucien swallowed a whine. His skin felt oddly sensitive tonight, his breasts heavy, the nipples aching more than usual. He did want Aksel’s mouth on them.
No.
They had to stop.
This wasn’t appropriate. It had stopped being appropriate a few months ago, when Lucien had first noticed the spicy undertone in Aksel’s scent whenever he sucked and touched his breasts. Lucien had a sneaking suspicion it might be arousal, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t exactly have experience with aroused alphas—experience he remembered, that was. He never brought it up—it would be mortifying if he was wrong. Not that it wouldn’t be mortifying if he was right. It was an inappropriate situation either way.