by Milana Jacks
The male moves away, and I sigh, relieved he’s out of sight. It makes it easier for me not to stare at him. He swipes a hand over the air in front of him, and a space opens inside his chambers. The space shows a path to a waterfall hitting a lake out of which steam rises. There’re flowers and trees everywhere, and even small animals. It’s a fairy-tale land with a hot bath. He walks into this land and extends a hand. “Come bathe,” he purrs.
I put my hand in his, and he leads me into this landscape. When I look back, the bedroom is still there, which means that his people move from place to place with spatial openings only they can navigate, because I can’t even see them.
I open my mouth to ask how he’s moving around this way when he nudges the small of my back. I inch toward the lake and touch the water. It’s warm, maybe a touch hot for my taste, but not burning, and I want so badly to bathe if only so he doesn’t bring it up again. Nobody wants to smell bad, and I bet his sense of smell is better than mine. Most aliens classified as predators hunt, and for hunting, they need enhanced senses.
Glancing behind me, I see him crossing his arms over his chest. “Bathe.”
“I will. As soon you leave.”
I’m pretty sure the hyena cackle made deep within his chest is laughter.
“I don’t know if there’s something wrong with our translators,” he says, “or if you’re gently refusing my advances, but rest assured, womankind, when I say I’m annoyed you’re not assessing me for breeding, it doesn’t mean I want to breed you or that I’m thinking about breeding you. It means I’ve already made a decision to act upon my assessment of you and all there’s left for you to do is look upon me and say yes, Alpha.” When I open my mouth to protest, he lifts a palm, effectively silencing me. “Shhh.”
I gape at his arrogance.
“Nothing you say will make me leave. Might as well quit arguing and bathe to reduce the odor.”
“Oh my God! You asshole.” I pick up a rock, think better of it, and throw it in the lake.
He tilts his head. “A violent herbivore. What a predicament. You’re interesting.” Then he walks forward and I walk back, and he smirks as our bodies connect again. If I step back, I’ll fall into the lake, and he knows it. Asshole.
Chapter Seven
Hart
Like cornered prey, the female with a name I can only pronounce in my head stays put so that our chests connect, making me purr louder. I like how her breasts that feed the young feel on my chest, how last night, everywhere I touched was plush, and how her body is cold, making it necessary for me to keep it warm. “You must bathe now.”
“Give me some privacy, and I will.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you will have a stinky alien in your chambers for the rest of your day.”
“But I will have her in my chambers.”
The female groans. “You won’t let up, will you?”
I shake my head.
The female reaches for the bottom of the cloth that covers the top of her body and removes it. The breast contraption follows. Thank you, Bera, that thing is off. It looked like armor, as if breasts need confinement and protection. They certainly do not. I like them better loose.
To improve my view, I step back. Stephanie’s cheeks color red for the second time, and while I don’t understand the physical change, I sense her discomfort with undressing in front of a male. Perhaps I can put her at ease. “Not to worry, female. I find you suitable for breeding and pleasing to my eyes.”
“That’s comforting.”
“You’re welcome. Continue with no coloring in the cheeks.”
She chuckles and removes the rest of her dysfunctional clothing. For a species that wastes below, they make their lives much harder by designing clothes that cover the wasting spaces. We wear vertos. It’s practically a curtain. Much more efficient.
She’s ogling me now, assessing my fitness. Finally. I pull back my shoulders, and my dick jumps, hits my navel, and bounces. Semen leaks from the hook at the tip of my dick and trails down the length. There you go, female. It works.
Her face is bright red now, and the scent of…arousal reaches my nose. I inhale a lungful. My, my, my. I lick my lips, thinking of how I’m gonna mount this female when she goes into heat, then remember I still haven’t established if she’s a carnivore.
“You’re looking at me like I’m something you wanna eat,” she says.
“And your scent tells me you’re looking at me like I’m something you wanna fuck. Do you?”
She covers her face. “You’re too blunt. I can’t do this.” The female spins and dives into the water, and I watch her swim, wondering if she can breathe under it in a way my people can’t. Soon, she comes up and gasps for air. Our species are similar in more ways than one. Even our physical appearance is similar, which makes me think our breeding will succeed, and we will be able to produce young. I walk along the baths, speaking over the noise the waterfall makes while hitting the rocks behind her.
She’s more comfortable now, swimming, twirling.
“The beloys flower,” I say and point to her right, “can be used for fragrance.”
“I must really smell bad to you,” she says but swims toward the flower.
“Not at all,” I whisper, and silently slide into the water while my prey is distracted. By the time she realizes I’m at her side, it’s too late. I cage her in, pressing my front to her back, and lick a place between her neck and shoulder, a place I want to bite to mark, but fear if I do, I’ll lust for her flesh in ways I’d regret.
Eating and breeding, two primal instincts, war inside me. I scent a hearty meal that makes my mouth water, and I also smell her arousal that invites my advances. Most prey fear me, and I can smell it. If the prey fears me, I wanna eat it. But this one is aroused, so I wanna fuck. Still, she’s prey, not an equal to me, and I haven’t experienced this sort of struggle before. Here I have a prey animal I want to breed. An oxymoron. Hunger for her flesh has a new meaning, and I want to investigate.
“I need to taste between your legs,” I say, then drag my tongue over the soft skin between her shoulder blades. “I know you want me to.” I grab her hips and lift her over the edge so she lies on her belly. The place between her legs appears in front of me. Her buttocks are spectacular, the softest part of her body. I grab one cheek and wiggle it, noticing she’s watching me over her shoulder. The scent of fear enters my nose as I climb over her body, holding myself up so I appear as if I will mount her now.
Her arousal intensifies, but so does the smell of fear. The way she responds to me only makes me war with my instincts even more. “I’m not going to hurt you. We already established that. Try to curb your fear.”
The female nods, and for the first time since I’ve met her, she’s not talking back. I don’t know what to make of it, but I like it. I peck her rosy cheek. Her body’s much warmer now. “Don’t fear me. All I’m gonna do is lick between your legs. It’s how I can show you my interest and also how I can taste your arousal. Some of it tells me if we’re compatible. You can resist if you like, though that will make me want it more, and since I’m the Kai, I get what I want. Today, tomorrow, whenever.” I rest my dick on her bottom, make it twitch, then inhale to gauge how she feels about that.
Stephanie swallows. I can see she’s uncertain, and the threat of her rejection crackles in the sky like a thunderbolt, threatening to disrupt my advances, and I can’t let it. I just have to try harder, entice her more. I slip a finger between her butt cheeks and feel a small hole first, then a bigger hole, a wet one, telling me her body has already slickened her channel for penetration. I swipe back and forth over her slit, drawing out more of her liquid, until her arousal blossoms in the air, drowning the scent of the otherwise potent beloys flower.
Her eyes close, and I slide down her body, then stick my tongue out and spread her globes. What’s there is unlike anything I’ve seen before. There are two holes, one smaller, one bigger, and since I don’t know the
significance of the other hole, I stick with my instincts and swipe my tongue over the place that’s wetter than the other, the place I scented when she ran to me, the same place that made me question my instinct to eat her.
I taste and finally understand why I didn’t consume her.
It’s because this place produces a potent and sweet taste on my tongue, and the more I lick, the more I want it. It’s almost addictive, and soon, I learn that savoring the liquid like this makes the alien pussy give me more of it, and so I bury my entire face between her globes and purr my lungs out when she starts moaning.
I tune in to the sounds she makes. They’re of pleasure, not pain, so I’m doing great. I lap at her hole and reach for my cock, stroking it while I lick her, imagining mounting her like this over the ground, extending my hook in search of her womb and dropping my seed inside her. The images make me stroke myself faster, and my cock grows, the hook ready to attach on her womb, when I sense a bump under my tongue.
I flick the bump, and the female pushes back against my face.
The bump is a go. Growling, I flick it again, and she pushes back some more, practically suffocating me. I hold my breath and dive inside there, licking only over the bump and hearing her moaning louder than before. I stroke my cock, sensing my balls filling, drawing up, and the hook hardening like a thorn, searching for a womb. I fist the top of my cock and prevent the hook from ejecting my seed. It’s painful, and I growl while licking her.
Stephanie arches her back, her body locks, and liquid gushes out of the hole and onto my tongue. Stunned that a female species can ejaculate, I get drunk on the fluid, fighting her legs from closing, but alas, Stephanie slides down into the lake, bumping her bottom on my cock.
I purr at her ear. “Are you inviting me to mount you?”
She turns, her face as red as a tomtac plant. “No.”
I lift her up a bit so I don’t have to bend, and I press my lips over hers. She doesn’t respond.
“Do your people kiss?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
“How about now so I can finally pit my tongue against yours? See whose tongue is more agile.” The goddesses gave me a tongue so I can lick this female’s pussy. Of course. What other purpose would a seldom-used muscle have?
I don’t wait for an answer, but kiss her softly and purr even more softly, allowing me to lull her, make her feel more comfortable, less resisting, just the way prey should be. Soft, pretty, cute, and submissive, bending to my will, and my will is to breed, preferably right now. I fist my cock. “Are you sure you’re not inviting me to mount you?”
Against my lips, her mouth stretches into a smile. “I’m sure.”
“Is it because you find me unfit for breeding? I assure you I’m fit. Let me show you.”
Stephanie presses a hand over my chest, and I grab it, peeling it off my chest and directing it down so she can get a feel for my fitness.
“Hart.” I hear Mas’s voice in my chambers. Gonna ignore him. I’m having a moment with my…female.
I run her palm over my cock.
“It’s smooth,” I say. “I don’t have two of these to fill your two holes but I promise one will be memorable.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh no, the other hole is…inaccessible.”
“According to whom?”
“Me, primarily.”
“I can be persuasive.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I kiss her mouth again. “I want to make out with your other lips.”
She pulls back and balls her hand into a fist. “I want to bathe and use this nice-smelling flower on my hair and body. Are there more flowers like this one? For the body and hair?”
“Hart, answer me,” comes from the chambers.
I ignore Mas’s voice. “There are. What is your fascination with flowers?”
“They’re pretty. Looking at them makes me happy.”
She’s sharing secrets I can leverage. I don’t believe she realizes she’s delivering valuable information that I can and will use to win the games, and I know there will be games. Herbivore or not, she tastes like a breeder to me, and by now, most males would have figured out my keeping her isn’t about food. One part of wining the games is beating the other males. The second part is winning the female. “I will get you more flowers.”
“A vase will do for the ones I already picked.”
“What is a vase?”
“A bowl with water one can put flowers in.”
I purse my lips, thinking of bowls and where I’m gonna find them. How strange.
“Hookhead!” Mas shouts. “The males are ready, and you know the rules.”
I leap out of the water, shaking the droplets off my body. “Come,” I say to Stephanie.
“Where?
“Back inside.”
“But I haven’t bathed.”
“You have. The water has cleansed your body. No time for fragrance now. Come.”
The female makes an effort to climb out to the surface, and I have to say, this alien species appears uncoordinated. I want to haul her up so she doesn’t have to expend the effort she’s expending, but I’m fascinated with how her limbs bend in slow, jerky movements. It all seems awkward to me.
Standing, she tries wiping the dirt off her hands and knees, but smears it all over instead. She sighs. “I’m dirty again.”
“That’s because you’re crawling over mud.” Why would anyone do that after a bath? What is wrong with this species?
“I had to climb out.”
“Why climb when you can leap?”
“Um, I can’t jump the way you can.”
“I know that. But can’t you jump at all?”
“Sure.” She bounces in place. “There, I jumped.”
She must be joking again. I crouch and jump across the bath, landing before my chambers. “Your turn. Come on.” While I know predators are more agile than prey, she must at least be able to jump a little higher than what she showed me.
I expect her to follow, but Stephanie bends and scoops up some water to clean herself again, then rounds the entire bath, and by the time she reaches me, I’m thinking this female might be at the very bottom of our food chain, and that’s dangerous.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, although I worry about her. “I’m plenty fast and agile enough for both of us.”
“Where are you going?”
“We are going to the Hall of the Fallen.”
“And once there?”
“You’ll meet the other contestants.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re opening the games.” Bera delivered a breeder. Or Amti, in which case, I’m mad and lusting over an herbivore, and my instincts can’t be trusted. And yet, I can’t ignore either goddess or refuse the gift they bestowed upon us.
“What games?”
“The courting games.” I shake the water from my hair. Why is she not shaking the water off hers? Maybe it doesn’t bother her the way it bothers me, but it should. With her body temperature being lower, she should remove the droplets before she gets too cold.
“What’s that mean?” Stephanie asks and hugs herself.
See? She’s cold. Shake off the damn water, I want to order her. What in Herea’s name is going on here? “It means the males will compete for the right to breed you.”
“You’re not the only one who wants to breed me?”
“I am not, but I will be the only one who does.” She appears surprised we’re going to compete for the right to breed her. I haven’t a clue how the males of her kind go about obtaining breeding rights to females, but this is how it’s done in the tribal lands. The moment I refused to consume her, and when the word of her marking the forest spread—I have my brother to thank for that—my males decided to ambush me about her as I made my way back with a translator.
They want to breed a female too.
They want a partner to warm their beds. Or keep them c
old, in the case of this alien species.
They want a gentle touch.
We want what all males of the galaxy want: to protect and procreate, and those instincts war with our predatory instincts, the ones that tell us everyone we encounter is food. But with her arrival, I have a chance to not just beat the other males in the games, but also to beat my own instincts and perhaps even renew our faith in the goddesses I thought had deserted us. With no females left after the wars, what I saw in the eyes of my males was the hope this alien gave them, and I won’t squander it.
Also, I won’t lose.
Chapter Eight
Stephanie
Hart has a way with his mouth. Not just the way he kisses or eats pussy.
It’s the words he forms with that mouth, the persuasive way he articulates language, and I’m thinking I probably would’ve been better off with no translator. He talks the talk and walks the walk and definitely knows how to command a female. His body is my erotic dream, albeit a little strange and definitely plenty crazy considering he’s a male of a different species.
I rub my shoulders, looking around for a closet or something where he stores his clothes. Or, say, a towel while Hart fastens a short black leather kilt over his middle and straps on his weapons. Where were those clothes? Things just appear as if by magic.
“Where did you get the kilt?”
‘The what?”
I point. “Things seem magical around here.”
He slides me a gaze and smirks. “It’s a verto. Only my dick is magical.”
“You have to stop that.”
“Which that?”
“The blatant flirting.” I’m sure I’m blushing again.
“I don’t know how to talk any other way. Molding words and mincing them creates confusion and makes my males feel lost because they have to translate what I’m trying to say. I’d rather just go on and say it. For example, I’d love to keep you here naked and barefoot.”