Page 52 of Alien's Love Child

"Mm-hmm," I agree, biting my lip to stifle a moan. I glance towards Leo's room, the door slightly ajar. The soft glow of the light spills into the hallway, a reminder of the little life we created. A life that deserves a family, whole and united.

Davin follows my gaze, his expression softening. "He's beautiful, Jesse," he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

"He's ours," I reply, a swell of pride and love filling my chest. Our eyes meet, a silent promise passing between us. We'll make this work. We'll be a family.

His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I'm not going anywhere," he says, his voice firm with resolve. "Not again."

I nod, too choked up to speak. Instead, I lean into him, our lips meeting once more. This time, it's a slow burn, a promise of forever. And in the quiet of the hallway, under the hum of the station's lights, we seal our fate with a kiss.

Then, Davin takes me by the hand and leads me down the hallway. There's no need for words; we both know what we want right now.

What we need.

Davin kicks the door to his room shut behind us, his lips still locked with mine. The room is bathed in the soft glow of a nearby neon sign, casting dancing shadows on the walls. His hands are in my hair, my back pressed against the cold metal of the door.

"You know," I murmur between kisses, "we've got all night."

He pulls back just enough to smirk at me, his breath hot on my lips. "And I intend to use every second."

I chuckle, my hands sliding down his chest, fingers tracing the line of his scar. He shivers under my touch, his eyes never leaving mine. I can feel his heart pounding, echoing my own.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he growls, his hands finding the hem of my shirt.

"You're one to talk," I retort, tugging at his belt. He laughs, a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

We stumble towards the bed, a tangle of limbs and laughter. His room is sparse, the bed little more than a cot, but it's enough. It's more than enough. He tugs my shirt over my head, his fingers brushing against my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"God, I've missed you," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. His hands cup my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks. His eyes search mine, filled with a hunger that mirrors my own.

"Show me," I whisper back, my voice barely steady. "Show me how much you've missed me."

His response is a kiss, deep and hungry. His hands explore my body, reacquainting with every curve, every line. I gasp into his mouth, my own hands exploring his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, the scars that tell a thousand stories.

We fall back onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated kisses. The world outside fades away, leaving only us, only this. Only the feel of his skin against mine, the taste of his lips, the sound of his breath mingling with mine.

"Jesse," he whispers, his voice a ragged prayer. And in that moment, I know. I know that he's mine, that he's always been mine. And I'm his, completely, utterly his.

I tug at his belt, a smirk playing on my lips. "You know how many times I've imagined doing this?" I ask, looking up at him through my lashes.

Davin raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on his face. "Oh yeah? And what exactly did you imagine?"

I pull the belt free, tossing it aside. "Well, for starters," I say, my fingers working on the button of his pants, "I didn't imagine you'd be so chatty."

He laughs, a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. "Is that so?" he says, his voice dropping an octave.

I nod, finally freeing the button. I can feel his breath hitch as I slowly slide down his zipper. "Mm-hmm," I murmur, my eyes never leaving his. "In my fantasies, you were always the strong, silent type."

He smirks, his hands finding their way into my hair. "Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint," he says, his voice barely a whisper.

I chuckle, my hands sliding down his hips, taking his pants with them. "Too late for that," I tease, my eyes traveling down his body. I can feel the heat radiating off him, see the desire in his eyes. It's intoxicating.

I lean in, my breath hot on his skin. I can feel him tense, his hands tightening in my hair. I smirk, my lips brushing against him. "You know," I say, my voice barely a whisper, "I think I like the chatty version of you."

And with that, I take his cock into my mouth. He groans, his head falling back, his hands tightening in my hair. I take my time, exploring every inch of him. His taste, his scent, it's all so familiar, yet so new. It's like coming home after a long journey.

I look up at him, our eyes meeting. His are filled with desire, with need. It's a heady feeling, knowing that I'm the one doing this to him. That I'm the one making him feel this way.

I take him deeper, my hands finding their way to his hips. His breath hitches, his body tensing. I can feel his heart pounding, can see the pulse in his neck. It's a rhythm that matches my own, a symphony of desire and need.

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