by Viki Storm
Waiting to be touched.
Like I said, I might explode soon.
The vehicle docks at the transportation bay and I help her exit. She has said nothing to me—hasn’t even looked at me. I can’t help it, I put my hand at the small of her back and guide her through the corridors of the fortress. My chambers are near the top and it is a long way through hallways and staircases, many people around to stare at her.
But I think they will be mostly staring at me. My purple torso broadcasting my desire.
Worse than that, broadcasting my emotions.
A Zalaryn male is fierce and almost foolhardy in his aggression. And that’s on a good day. Once we’ve bonded to a mate? All of our usually benign aggression is channeled into a protective instinct. For our woman. Our mate. The mother of our child, the hope for our future.
She will know this soon. She will understand my desire for her is so much more than my desire to empty my seed inside her.
But I have to claim her first. Our mating must be complete. Then I will pledge my resources and strength to her.
Forever.
Because Zalaryns mate for life.
But first…
I lead her to my chambers and close the door. The sight of her frail, pale body causes a surge of my protective instincts. I feel my skin flushing hotter, even more purple if that’s possible. This delicate little human is mine.
It is my responsibility to keep her safe. The idea is terrifying.
Not even the weight of ruling an entire planet seemed so significant.
I put her on the bed. She sees my intent plainly. Her eyes are wide with fear. I rip the tapestry from her body. Her breasts tumble free.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
But I’m not.
Not really.
I have prepared for this. My entire life, ever since I knew what sex was, I knew that I was going to be taken away from my home planet, given to some hulking red warlord, that I would have to obey his perverted sexual requests and bear his violent, spoiled little children.
I made my peace with that a long time ago. Everyone has a lot in life, a cross to bear, some of the old timers call it.
But what happens at the auction house throws my entire worldview into question.
This alien—Crown Prince Xalax—I’m not sure if he’s the hulking pervert that I assumed he’d be. He saved me from getting groped by that other creep. He broke tradition, rules and customs by spending a small fortune to purchase me. And he defaced what seemed like a priceless antique tapestry in order to cover up my naked body, give me a shred of dignity.
In his vehicle, I try not to look at him, but I can’t help sneaking glances. His face is surprisingly… human. Other than the dark red color, his features are very familiar. I suppose that Zalaryns and humans have to be similar in order to be able to breed together, but it’s comforting that he is at least good looking by human standards.
Oh no, did I just think ‘good looking?’ Because that’s definitely not right. His face is pleasant, that’s all, in its proportions and humanoid aspect.
Maybe I caught a piece of luck. Maybe I can start to make the best of a bad situation. Maybe this isn’t even a bad situation after all. If he really is a prince, then I’ll certainly be better off than in my little drafty shack back on Earth.
I sneak another peak at him and see that his chest is flushed a dark, angry color. They change color? Just when I thought he seemed human.
We dock the vehicle and he guides me through an empty corridor. We come out on a landing and I see that we’re actually a few stories up. I look down and see the main floor. It’s probably where they have formal ceremonies of state.
The palace is amazing. Beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen much. The nicest building in my village was a crumbling old hospital with broken windows and leaking pipes. It’s instantly cooler and I realize just how hot it is outside with the two suns and all. The palace is built of a sleek stone, as far as I can tell, but there are no gaps between the bricks, no mortar, just one smooth, seamless wall that goes up and up and up. Windows are seated into the walls, but the damnest thing is that no light comes in through the windows. It’s an eerie effect that I can’t quite explain. I can see outside, but there is no swath of light and shadow that comes into the palace room.
My brain hurts a little trying to figure out how a window can be transparent enough to see through but not let in light, but I’m drawn to something else. Ringing the main floor are towering stone idols. I think they’re idols. Gods maybe, old heroes of legend and song, maybe warriors from long ago. They start on the bottom floor and span several floors. I think we must be on the fourth or fifth floor and we only come up to the idols’ shoulders. I lean over the railing and strain up, trying to see their faces. The stonework is amazing. It’s as smooth and seamless as the walls. They probably have different types of rocks on this planet, different tools. Either way, I’m awed.
“Come on,” the alien says. Xalax, I should think of him by his name, I suppose. But his name seems so weird to me, even with the language procedure I had, to properly pronounce his name requires tongue and throat maneuvers that my home language doesn’t have.
He runs his hand down my back, pushing me forward. There is heat. Lots of heat. His body is radiating it. When he touches me, I feel a little electric pulse, a thrumming. It sends a thrill of heat into my stomach that’s exciting and terrifying. I feel dread, sick and nervous, but it’s not all bad. It’s tempered with a slow and steady tingle.
No man has ever touched me like this. The boys in my village stayed away from me. I have always been Marked. When other girls were kissing boys out in the woods, I was at home reading old books, looking at all the old masterpiece paintings that were destroyed in the war. When the girls were lifting up their shirts and taking down their panties for their boyfriends and new husbands, I was at home trying to mix paints the right color to capture the sunlight at dusk.
On Earth, I told myself I wasn’t missing out on much, just clumsy pawing and a few quick thrusts and grunts in the dark.
But this thrill is something else. I feel scared to death and excited as hell.
He leaves his hand at the small of my back. Am I just a little disappointed that he stopped there, that he didn’t keep moving it down to cup my ass? Is this just my pent-up sexual desires, some odd release of tension and stress from the last couple days? The stress of my entire life?
A few hours ago, I was humiliated and horrified at being led around naked for these aliens to ogle and grope. What’s changed?
Apparently everything.
We finally approach a wing of the palace that’s secured by a sealed door, like the ones they had on the spaceship. He touches a little glowing panel on the wall and the door slides open with a loud whoosh.
His chamber is bigger than my entire house back on Earth. It’s bare, no pictures or decorations or anything like that, but maybe these Zalaryns don’t decorate their dwellings.
Through an open, arching doorway I see his bed. It is large and plush, but the blankets are messed and heaped at the foot. He looks at me with greed. Is this lust? No one’s ever looked at me with anything other than pity and revulsion before.
I think I like it.
He reaches out and tears the cloth from my body and throws it to the floor. He pants something so low I can’t tell what he says, though I think he’s apologizing.
I know my time is now. My sole purpose for existing. To surrender my virginity to an alien on a hot planet a million miles away from home. I imagined more resignation. More fear. More disgust.
All I feel now is… eagerness? Curiosity?
The way he’s looking at me, I feel like I’m the only girl in the world, and that’s funny because I almost am. But I don’t care. This time, standing naked before him, there is no shame, no impulse to cover myself. I like how he looks at me.
He pushes me down on the bed and covers my body with his. He’s so hot, that thrumming energy built
up under his skin’s surface. Do these aliens kiss? Do they do something else? As if reading my mind, he leans close and I feel his lips on mine. They are rough and chapped and he is trying to devour me. I don’t know what to do. I have never kissed anyone except my dog, but he died when I was nine. I try to close my eyes and let instinct takeover, but there is no instinct for this.
I realize I am holding my breath.
I guess I’m more nervous that I thought.
He breaks his kiss and I’m sort of glad. I need more practice before I can keep up with this sort of fervor. He reaches down and puts a finger between my legs. He just holds it there, not rubbing or anything. It feels good, sending that heat between my legs. He moves his head down, kissing and sucking at my breasts. He pulls one of my nipples into his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. I can’t help it, I gasp out. I’m a little embarrassed, moaning like some common whore, but it feels good.
He pushes his hips against mine and I feel his erection straining against his pants. I can’t help wonder how big it is, if it’s going to hurt me.
He starts to move his finger up and down, just barely. I move my hips, trying to push myself into his hand. What’s come over me? Was it the way he saved me in the auction house? The way he broke that other creep’s hand? How he tore down the tapestry so I could have something to wear?
No. I don’t think that’s the reason I am aching between my legs, eagerly chasing after my pleasure.
It’s how he’s looking at me. His chest flushed purple, his eyes avid and hungry. How he’s panting and grunting and grabbing me like he can’t restrain himself.
Actually, I don’t think he can. And I sort of like it.
I sort of like it a lot.
He props himself up and I see that he’s unlacing his pants. I’ve never seen a naked man before, but I’ve seen pictures and sketches in old textbooks.
Even still, when he pulls it out I am in shock.
“It’s too big,” I manage to say. My voice is a shy whisper. There’s no way that thing will fit inside me.
I feel his finger start to rub me a little faster. But it doesn’t feel as good as before. I can’t stop thinking about how much that thing of his is going to hurt, especially if he shoves it in with the same passion and lack of restraint.
He trails his finger down and presses it against my opening. It slides against my slippery essence. His touch is softer, more gentle.
“It’s okay,” he says. “Open your eyes.” They’re closed, but I didn’t even notice. I open them and look at him. None of the desire has left his eyes, but I can see that most of whatever fit of madness that possessed him has relented.
A little at least.
He pushes one of his fingers inside me. I can feel myself gripping his finger tightly. There is no pain, but some pressure as he struggles to push it in. He has huge hands and thick fingers and getting the first one in is no easy task.
“Spread your legs,” he says. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He lowers himself down halfway off the bed so his face is between my legs. He puts his mouth on me, sort of like how he kissed me. Eagerly, hungrily. His tongue swirling around my clit is like nothing I ever felt before. I tense up, but not because I am nervous. Something is building, some storm of pleasure in my belly. I feel his finger pump in and out of me, probing deeply. He takes it out for a moment and I feel a bit of regret, like I want it back inside me. I get my wish because I feel two of his thick fingers stretching me. He is breathing hard and so am I. There’s a sudden urgency, a racing flood of heat and tickly fluttering and then—
I am screaming, writhing against his face. He pushes his fingers in deeper, swiping them side to side and I feel the intensity increase. The feeling holds and I cry out, not caring how preposterous I must seem, making these weird noises and bucking my hips like an animal.
It slowly fades and he sits up. I see that the thing between his legs is bigger and stiffer than before. If his fingers felt so big and wide, there is no way that thing will fit inside me. Never in a million years. Are all the Zalaryn males this big?
He kneels between my legs and presses it against my opening, but does not shove it in rudely as I expected. It’s hot and hard and I can feel the tip of it slide in just a fraction. I’m stretched out, my most intimate area held open by this hot thrumming alien erection.
He puts his hand on himself and starts to pump slowly. I know what he’s doing, I’m not that naïve. It doesn’t take long—he must have been very riled up. He lets out a loud shuddering groan and I feel the hot spurts go inside me. Maybe this is the Zalaryn version of coitus. Maybe they are too large for human females and the best that they can do is jerk their seed inside a female.
I somehow know that this is not the answer, that another male like that creep at the auction house would have forced his way inside me, with no regard for my pain—perhaps even relishing in my agony and horror.
He is different. Xalax, I try to think his name in my head but the sounds are all weird. He held himself back. He had been in some sort of lust-filled frenzy, but even in such a powerful fugue state he was able to restrain himself to keep from hurting me.
He collapses on the bed next to me and I feel the need to roll over next to him, to nestle my head in the crook of his arm.
But I do not. I cannot. Not now. Probably not ever. There is too much distance between our species. Between our worlds.
“You are mine,” he says. The words send a tremble down my flesh that is not altogether unpleasant. There is power in his voice. Like he’s the best man to have on your side—and the worst enemy to have against you. “I have claimed you.”
This seems to warrant a response from me, but I don’t know what to say. Is this the Zalaryn idea of a wedding ceremony? Is he speaking his vows? In a weird way, I think he is. I don’t have the slightest idea what is required of me, and I am thankful when he continues talking.
“We are bonded mates forever,” he says. “Bonding is different than mating. Our males bond fiercely. Any male can mate with any female, emptying his seed and creating offspring. Bonding is different. It’s a biological response. That is why I changed colors. It’s why you responded to my hormones. That is why you lied down willingly and became lubricated.” The language procedure might have made me understand their language, but I never realized how many subtleties of communication there are.
But his meaning isn’t lost on me.
I should have known. This was all just some weird chemical reaction. It makes perfect sense. Why else would I have been so excited and eager to have him undress me and do… that sort of stuff to me. I feel a little more relieved. It’s a frightening prospect to be in an alien’s bed chamber. A gigantic muscled creature with complete and total mastery over my body, able to literally do anything he wants to me because I’m bought and paid for.
But it was a little more frightening to feel for him. That excitement, that thrill. The heat.
It’s more confusing than the fear.
Fear I know. Fear I can deal with. I’ve dealt with it my whole life.
It’s kindness and fondness that I’ve got a problem with. It’s just as foreign as this planet with two suns and huge red aliens.
Maybe more so.
He rises from the bed. “I have many preparations. There is an emergency High Council meeting this evening. I must leave you.” He tells me that he’ll send a maid later to help me get situated. “You will live here, in my chambers. Everything I have is yours.”
I suppose I should be grateful that he’s not locking me in a dank cage between brutal and painful sessions of intercourse. I want to thank him for his kindness, but the finality of all these bizarre events—and the most culminating bizarre event just now, our bonding or whatever he calls it—is all catching up with me. I need to sleep for twelve hours straight. Or whatever is the Zalaryn equivalent of an hour. Time is different here, the days and hours controlled by the strange orbital dance of two burning suns.
Except one uni
t of measure is still the same anywhere in the universe.
Forever. We are bonded mates forever.
I start to thank him, but he leaves the bedroom and then I hear the whoosh of the main door open and shut. We are bonded. He has claimed me. Everything this Crown Prince of the planet Zalaryx has is mine.
Except freedom.
Because even as respectful as he is (in his own weird way), how protective and, in an even weirder way, tender, I am not free.
Because when he left just now, he locked the door behind him.
I am still purple. But I have no choice but to prepare for the council meeting. How long is this rutting period supposed to last? I thought it ends after copulation.
Then again, we did not have true intercourse.
As eager as I was to thrust inside of her, I could not. She was not physically or emotionally prepared. She is a fragile being and my eagerness and passion would have torn and bruised her. But I had to deposit my genetic material inside of her.
I had to. There was little choice in it. My bonding hormones took over.
The feeling of the tip of my erection as it pressed against her opening was exquisite torture. I wanted to plunge into her, feel that soft gripping all around my shaft, the slippery sensation of pulling out and thrusting back inside over and over.
The bonding intensified everything. The smell of her skin, the soft tiny hairs that stood out in gooseflesh brushing against the palms of my hands, her frantic cries of ecstasy as I mouthed her into orgasm.
I have experienced nothing like it before in the pleasure houses. Those sexual experiences were hollow, routine and slightly shameful. But being with my obsidian beauty today? It was transcendent. I need more. I need to experience every sensation with her. My erection hasn’t even subsided. After my visits to the pleasure houses, I shrivel back to my flaccid size almost instantly after the deed is done. But not today. Not with her. I need her again, need to find full release inside her small and beautiful body.
But she’s not ready. I know that.
The waiting might drive me mad.