Weeks later, Evil walked herself out of the water and hobbled up the beach to her resting place under the tree. Her belly was growing larger by the day and as she stared at it, she wondered if Marca was so concerned about having an heir, why he never checked on them. For all he knew they could be dead on this planet. She shook her head, thinking it was just her pregnant mind running rampant again, overloaded on hormones. Dwelling on that last thought, she shifted her hips, and spread her legs a bit as the junction between them ached. Frowning and frustrated, she looked up, and noticed that Jarron had stopped fussing with catching their dinner on the beach and was staring dead at her. She didn't realize that the longer they had been together the more their force bond had deepened and she now assumed he was staring at her because she was dwelling on Marca. But something about him was different. He was rigid and his eyes bore straight through her. She looked down at herself, wondering what was wrong and then happened to catch her own scent. She looked back at him, eyes wide, but subconsciously bit her lower lip as her eyes travelled down his chiseled chest and abs. Many thoughts were travelling between their bond; including the fact that if Marca found out they would most certainly die. But then the brush off thought of knowing she was probably carrying Agba's child would cause her death in the long run brought Jarron to his knees in front of her, grabbing her hips and pulling her on to her back and pushing up what little clothing she had on up around her thighs. Being careful as not to scratch her with his claws, he gently spread her legs and cupped her ass with his hands. She gasped as he buried his sandpaper tongue in her sex, the roughness bringing her to pleasure so quickly it was almost painful as her hips bucked against his face. She cried out, knowing and enjoying her first climax with a male. It didn't stop him in the least. He continued, working her gently as she came down and then harder as she climaxed again. And on the third, using one arm to balance himself, he took himself in his free hand, stroking and pumping himself into his own orgasm, purring into her sex as he did so, bringing her over the edge yet again. Panting and covered in sweat and sand, he laid his head carefully on the inside of her thigh, enjoying its' soft feel. He couldn't help but notice and stare at the mangled and twisted metal one across from him and once again a pang of responsibility hit him. Shaking his head, he crawled up the beach to lie beside her.
"The Warlord told me to care for you, did he not?" Jarron smiled slyly.
She returned the smile slightly, feeling just a little bit better about what they had done. "Yes he did." She said.