by Lizzy Bequin
“This will only take a moment,” Rogar says.
My loincloth is held together with a clasp on both hips. Rogar’s fingers expertly unfasten one clasp and pull the cloth aside, exposing my tush, which is thankfully still somewhat covered by the costume’s skimpy panties.
I yelp as his hand squeezes my right cheek.
“Be quiet,” he hisses.
I squeal as an electric shock zaps my butt. An instant later, Rogar’s finger flicks away the leech that he killed there.
He hesitates. I can sense his gaze moving over my body like a physical touch.
“Is that all of them?” I ask.
“That I can see.”
His fingers curl beneath the thin elastic waistband of the panties, and he begins to tug. I clap my hand over his, stopping him.
“Rogar!” I gasp. “What are you doing?”
“We’ve been through this,” he says, his voice tight. “I must check you.”
I know that he’s right. We need to check every inch of my body to make sure I don’t have anymore of those icky things on my skin. But I’m nervous about showing myself to him. I shouldn’t be worried about it, considering everything else that we’ve been through today.
Still, this isn’t like a check-up with a doctor. That happens in a cold, sterile setting.
This is different. I mean, we’re on a beach. By a freaking campfire.
It just feels, I dunno…funny.
And the funniest thing is that part of me wants to show my body to Rogar. I want to feel his eyes roving over my tender parts. I want to expose myself to him completely.
God, I must be losing my mind.
“Clare.” His voice, like his touch, is gentle but firm.
“Fine,” I whisper. “But…let me do it.”
I reach back with both hands and hook my thumbs under the panties. Then I slowly push them down, arching my back a little so I can slip them off my hips.
My intention is to pull them down only far enough for Rogar to check, but before I realize what’s happening, he has grabbed hold of the panties and yanked them all the way down and off my ankles.
Well, this is it, I’m completely naked.
And I’m alone with an alien man.
Rogar moves around beside me so that his body is not blocking the green light of the fire.
“Spread your legs.”
I start to protest, but my legs seem to move of their own volition, slowly inching apart until they are spread into a wide V. The evening breeze ghosts over my inner thighs and my even more sensitive recess in between.
His hands are on the mounds of my butt now, both of them, carefully spreading my cheeks apart.
“Rogar,” I whimper softly, but I don’t try to resist.
I’ve never felt so vulnerable and exposed in my life. He can see every inch of me now, and my skin heats under the gaze that I know is tracing over my secret places.
I can’t be sure because the crashing waterfall drowns out the quieter sounds here, but I’m pretty sure Rogar is holding his breath.
Another wave of heat flushes through my neck and face. It’s not simply embarrassment that he can see my sex or that he can even see my other rear hole. I’m more ashamed by something else that I know is on display.
He can see my arousal.
He can see how turned on I’m becoming under his thorough inspection.
There’s no hiding it. My lips are wet and slippery with desire for him.
It’s a struggle to hold back the naughty impulses stirring in me now. The urges to reach between my legs and touch myself for him. To spread my folds and show him my needy entrance. To beg him to touch me there too.
Before I have a chance to tumble head first into those feelings, I squeeze my thighs shut again.
“I’m assuming there’s nothing back there.” I say sharply.
My blush deepens as I realize how weird that sounds, but I assume Rogar knows what I meant.
He shakes his head.
I sit up, crossing one arm over my breasts again and clutching my removed unfastened loincloth to cover my lap.
“In that case, do you mind?” I say, trying to conceal the quiver in my voice.
Rogar doesn’t say anything. He picks up one of the dead leeches and stares at it.
I clear my throat.
“I said, do you mind?” This time my voice is a bit steadier.
Rogar, however, doesn’t move. He is silent for a long moment before he answers me.
“My helmet is scanning this creature,” he informs me. “I’m getting a reading on its biology.”
“You can do that with your helmet?”
Rogar nods, and I can’t help wondering what else that helmet of his can do? Infrared? X-ray vision?
Maybe this wasn’t the first time he had seen under my clothes after all, but I decide not to ask.
Keeping myself covered with my arm and my bundled up loincloth over my lap, I scooch a little closer.
“So?” I ask. “What does your helmet say?”
Rogar shakes his head.
“It’s not good,” he mutters. “These leeches have a very dangerous gut flora.”
“What do you mean?”
I lean a little closer, looking at the dead leech in his fingers. While the back side is furry, the underside is smooth and slick like a suction cup but with three tiny teeth in a triangular arrangement. I noticed earlier when I was zapping those things off that they left small triangular wounds on my skin.
I shiver looking at those nasty little teeth now.
“These leeches have a species of Proteobacteria living in their digestive systems,” Rogar explains. “Something similar to hydrophila. It’s harmless to the leeches, but based on its structure, it could be very harmful to other life forms.”
He raises his head, and I see my own green-lit face reflected in his visor.
“Including humans,” he says gravely.
I sit back on the leaf, suddenly realizing that I was leaning a little to close to my alien companion.
“So that’s it?” I ask, feeling a cold chill. “I’m infected with alien bacteria, and I’m going to die?”
Rogar tosses the leech into the darkness. There is a little plip when it hits the water.
“Don’t be so dramatic. I didn’t say that. The bacteria likely hasn’t had time to invade your bloodstream yet. But it will, unless we sterilize the places where the leeches bit you.
“Well there’s nothing we can do about that, unless you’re hiding a bottle of sanitizer under that loincloth.”
Now is no time for snark, but I can’t help myself. I guess I just need to let off some steam.
Anyway, I’ve already felt what he is keeping under his loincloth, and it’s too big to leave room for any hidden contraband.
Rogar does have a point, though. An infection out here in the wild could be deadly, and who knows how my body would react to the alien bacteria of this planet.
The fire crackles and the pieces of wood settle, sending a spray of glowing green motes dancing and swirling up toward the sky splashed with stars. Night has a funny way of sneaking up like that. I don’t know the exact moment it fell, but it’s here now.
Rogar’s alien spear is standing at a slight angle tip-down in the sand with his cape hanging off it to dry by the fire. I incline my head toward it.
“What about your spear?” I ask.
“What about it?”
“Don’t you have like a mini first aid kit in there or something? It seems like it can do just about everything else. You seriously don’t have anything in there? Iodine? Rubbing alcohol?
Rogar kneels in front of me.
“I don’t need iodine or alcohol,” he says. “I’ve got a natural disinfectant.”
“What do you mean?”
He stares at me for a moment, his helmet reflecting the twinkling stars and green fire. Once again, I can sense the gears turning inside that head that I still haven’t seen. Off in the jungle a creature c
alls and another one answers.
“My saliva.”
“What?” I gasp.
I try to scoot away, but it’s hard to move and keep my naked body covered at the same time. Rogar’s hand darts out lightning quick and seizes my ankle.
“Listen to me,” he says calmly. “If you get an infection out here, you are going to die. Is that what you want?”
For half a second, I feel a twinge of appreciation that this guy is actually trying to look out for me. Then I remember that the only reason he cares about me is that he’s a bounty hunter, and I’m a payday for him.
“Maybe that is what I want,” I answer, raising my chin in challenge. “I’m probably gonna die soon, one way or another. And even if we do somehow get off this planet, you’re just going to carry me off and sell me to that Mr. Putrid or whatever his name is. The only reason you want to keep me alive is so you can get paid.”
He stares at me silently for a moment, then releases my ankle. He doesn’t move away, however, but simply crouches on his heels, arms resting on his knees while he stares at me through that inscrutable faceplate of his helmet.
“I’m not going to allow you to die,” he says. “I have to protect you.”
I sigh and scoot back onto the leaf so I don’t have to sit in the sand.
“Sheesh, I was only joking,” I say with a phony sigh as I brush myself off.
I’m trying to cover up the happy little tingle his words gave me. The insistent way he said he wants to protect me sounded like he was thinking of me as a person, not just some piece of cargo.
“All right, so your saliva is a disinfectant. What do you want to do, spit on me?”
Rogar’s broad shoulders shake, his scales gleaming in the fire light, and he lets out a deep rumbling sound. I realize it’s the first time I’ve heard him really laugh. But he immediately becomes serious again. Anyway, I think he does, though I have no idea what his face is doing inside that helmet.
“No,” he growls at last. “I want to lick you.”
CHAPTER 13: CLARE
My cheeks and chest burn with shock and embarrassment, and I can only hope that the green hue of the fire light does something to conceal my blushing.
“Wow,” I say. “That’s, um…pretty direct, big guy.”
Rogar shakes his head and grumbles, and I suddenly get the funniest impression that he’s blushing too underneath that helmet of his. I wonder what color this alien turns when he gets embarrassed.
“I mean that I want to lick your bites,” he clarifies. His voice is a bit hoarse. “To make sure you don’t get infected, of course.”
I exhale a sigh. I guess really don’t have any choice in the matter, unless I want to risk a deadly alien infection.
That’s assuming that Rogar isn’t making all of this up. Coming from anyone else, I would be suspicious. Scratch that. I would think they were bat-shit insane. But after everything that I’ve been through today, I’m willing to believe just about anything.
And if nothing else, Rogar has proven himself to be honest, at least as far as I can tell.
“Okay,” I say at last. “Let’s do it.”
I’m sitting on my bare butt, still clutching my unfastened loincloth over my lap to cover myself. The long piece of fabric is draped over my thigh and trailed out over the surface of the big leaf I’m sitting on.
Rogar plucks up the loose end of the loincloth, and he holds it in both hands, rubbing it with his thumb as though studying the fabric. Then, with a sudden unexpected burst of movement, he rips a long strip of cloth away.
“Hey, what the hell?” I shout as my muscles tense in apprehension.
“Calm down,” Rogar says as if it’s no big deal that he just ripped my clothes. “I have to blindfold you.”
“Blindfold me?”
He nods.
“I’ll have to take my helmet off to do this.” he says. “And you mustn’t see my face.”
“Oh,” I sigh as he stands up and walks around behind me. “I mean, you could have just said that before you ripped my dress, you know? You didn’t have to be all dramatic about it. Anyway, what difference does it make if I see you without…”
My words trail off as the folded strip of cloth covers my eyes.
“No one may see my face,” Rogar says simply. “That’s all you need to know.”
He pulls it snug but not too tight behind my head.
“How does that feel?” he asks.
A tingle shivers up my spine as I sense his massive presence crouching behind me. I’m so helpless like this. There’s no question who is in charge here. I need his protection to survive on this planet, and the thought of trying to resist him is ludicrous. He could easily overpower me if he so wished. But somehow, allowing myself to be blinded like this is a surrender that I’m not sure I’m ready to give.
“Is it too tight?” His voice is rough and gravelly, but strangely soothing.
I shake my head. I’m afraid if I try to speak that my voice will crack.
When he is done knotting the blindfold, his hands move away.
“I’m going to take my helmet off now,” he says. “We won’t be able to communicate without the translator.”
I hear a soft sound as he slides his helmet off and sets it nearby on the ground. His hands return, cupping my shoulders, and my muscles tense up again. I’m not used to being touched like this.
“Gluotaa.” His voice is almost a purr. “Neix zatuta zinua.”
I have no clue what he’s saying, but his smooth, gentle words calm me just the same, which I assume was the point.
A slight breeze stirs the fine hairs that are standing up on the back of my neck, and I realize that it is Rogar’s breath. I sense his face moving beside mine. Another soft puff tickles the shell of my ear, and my flesh pebbles with goosebumps.
“Gluotaa…”
For the first time, I learn something about Rogar’s face. He has lips.
Oh boy, does he ever have lips.
Full and soft, they graze against my neck, sending a ticklish desire slithering through my veins. They seem to be much like human lips, as far as I can tell. But they also feel like they are segmented, like soft, reptilian scales.
My pulse quickens, and my jugular drums against his mouth. I’m unable to stifle my light moan as he sucks my skin hard and rolls his tongue against my flesh.
“Rogar,” I giggle, forgetting that he can’t understand, “Are you trying to give me a hickey?”
He continues sucking and licking my neck for a few more seconds before he draws his lips off of me with a loud pop.
“Mitaa?” he purrs at my ear. “Hi…kee?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I whisper. “Just keep going.”
Though he can’t understand my words, he seems to guess my meaning. His mouth trails down the slope of my shoulder until he finds another place where I was bitten, and he repeats the procedure. I shrug ticklishly as he works my skin over with his lips and his tongue.
Strong, smooth arms coil around my midsection, holding me steady. Hard, rippling muscles press against my back. My hand somehow finds its way to his muscled thigh. My eyelashes flutter against the cloth bound around my eyes.
“Rogar,” I breathe.
With my sight taken away, my other senses become heightened. The smell of the crackling campfire and the sweet remnants of the fruit he gathered for me. The shrill cries of unknown creatures calling to each other in the jungle. The rush of falling water.
But more than anything else, I’m aware of my alien protector’s touch. I can feel every detail—every scale of his smooth, supple skin, still warm with the retained heat of the day. Every contour of his soft, insistent lips. Every delicious rasp of his narrow tongue.
Not knowing exactly where he will touch me or kiss me next simply adds to the excitement. A sensual guessing game that makes me tremble with alternating heat and chills.
There is a scuff of knees over sand as he works his way around to my front. His mouth dip
s to my chest. My heart drums against my breast bone like it’s trying to say hello to him. I find myself relaxing and leaning into his embrace.
I raise my hand to touch the bulge of his shoulders and glide up his smooth neck corded with muscle.
Rogar seems to hesitate for a moment. I remember that he is touchy about showing his face. I’m not sure why that is, but he must have his reasons.
“Can I…can I touch you here?”
I don’t know why I’m trying to speak to him, but I can’t help it. Rogar doesn’t answer, of course, but when he resumes kissing my chest, I take it as a yes.
“Oh,” I sigh as my fingers slide into his long hair. “Oh my…”
Hair isn’t exactly the right word for it. Anyway, it’s not like any hair that I’ve ever touched before. It is much thicker than human hair, and the strands seem to be segmented. I let my fingers work deeper into the strange, alien mane, massaging his scalp, and Rogar groans lightly against my chest.
I still have one arm raised to cover my breasts. He nudges it with his face. I decide that the time for modesty has long since passed, and I let my arm fall away.
Rogar gives a satisfied purr as I bare my breasts to him.
I’ve never had a guy purr for me before. I have to confess, it’s kinda hot.
As a matter of fact, there are a lot of things I haven’t done with a guy before, and I wonder how far I’m willing to let things go with this alien tonight.
But he’s only cleaning my wounds, I remind myself. This is strictly business.
Still, that doesn’t mean a girl can’t enjoy herself, right?
Another, louder moan escapes my lips as he kisses my sensitive breasts. His lips suck my flesh even more urgently, and the way his rough tongue abrades my skin sends thrills rippling through me. I squeeze my thighs together as wet warmth pulses at my joining.
“What are you doing to me?” I murmur.
Rogar’s tender lips skim over my pebbled skin and graze my springy nipples that are begging to be sucked. He obliges them.
He draws one aching nipple into his mouth, sucking the swollen bud and strumming it with his tongue inside his mouth, making me whimper.
That’s when I realize something.
Rogar’s tongue. It’s forked. The twin points splay around my erect bud.