Sparks ignite at my core, a sensation so different from the heat his venom once brought. This isn’t a frenzy. My body yearns for this. It wants Kitaico—I want him to go further.
His tongue tangles with my own, and he moans into my mouth as the foretentacles lift me to straddle his hips. The strength shouldn’t shock me, but it’s as if I weigh nothing when they move me. It makes me realize that the brothers and Kitaico have shown incredible restraint.
I can feel the throbbing of his cock and the pulsating of his surrounding tentacles through the thin woven wrap he wears at his waist. I can feel myself growing slick and ready for him.
But just as I’m waiting for him to move us further toward what feels like inevitable sex, he breaks the kiss, and his camouflage shuffles through several colors before returning to his yellow. Kitaico lifts me off his laps and sets me down chastely next to him.
“I'm sorry, the brothers get ahead of themselves. A kisth is a much more intimate sign of caring than the Andjin have.” He smiles at me before picking up his ropes again. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
Oh.
I pick up the dried seaweed too, not knowing what else to do as my brain lacks the blood flow my pussy does.
This has all escalated so fucking quickly.
I twist the rope tighter than I ever have twisted anything in my life. These restraints better work because I will climb Kitaico like a tree once the heat hits.
“You’re welcome,” I say, a little salty, but of course, the sweet alien doesn’t pick up on my annoyed tone. He’s far too kind to assume the worst of me.
10
fingerpaints
The kiss made things awkward, there’s no way around that fact. So, in classic Midwestern fashion, I push those awkward feelings down and act as if nothing is bothering me.
But since we’re both sequestered in this not very large cave, there’s only so much we can do to stay out of each other’s hair.
Kitaico and I made all the rope we’d need for the restraints, and the rest of the work has been up to him. He stands on the bed, gently chiseling little channels into the ceiling to thread the ropes through.
I’ve tidied what little there is to be tidied, I’ve slept as much as possible, and if I never bundle up another dried fish again, it’ll be too soon. I guess the cabin fever wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t also trying to deny my attraction to Kitaico. Even if it’s only a chemical response, it’s starting to feel real.
I sit near the store shelves and watch his rippling back as he angles the tool to continue his chipping. His ass flexes as he goes onto tiptoes. My brain conjures up an image of him pumping his bizarre tentacle- surrounded cock into me, thrusting deep.
I bite the inside of my cheek, dropping my eyes but hopefully picking my brain up out of the gutter. In my lap lays a rounded shell full of the purple nuite fruit. Its dark purple juice stains my fingertips, but it tastes so much better than the salty fish jerky that I eat a lot of it. It’s tangy, kind of a cross between a plum and a grape. It would make a killer pie.
Do aliens even have pie?
I mean, I shouldn’t complain either way, it’s so much tastier than the grey sludge the Deenz would feed me. The porridge I ate as a bubble babe was nutrient dense, I’m sure, but devoid of flavor.
Seems a silly thing to be concerned about when you’ve been abducted by aliens, but I would have dreams about fried cheese curds and chili dogs. For weeks, I’d crave nothing but the greasiest dive bar food.
Eventually though, you get too tired to dream. You wake up, dance in a plastic bubble for whatever alien species is on the docket that day, eat your mush, sleep, and repeat.
Human women are an investment for my previous captors, and I still can’t figure out why they dumped my pod here. Maybe I wasn’t worth the cost anymore? Had I aged out of bubble dancing?
I’m not even sure how long I’d been away from Earth, maybe months? The last birthday party I had I was thirty-two. Absentmindedly I run my fingers down the side of my face, searching for new wrinkles. Anything to prove the passage of time.
“Leeenuh, that’ll stain,” Kitaico mutters, grabbing a rough woven cloth and dipping it into the small pool of water he’s been staring at this morning.
I think it’s the first words he’s spoken to me since the kiss, days ago.
When he comes over, he swipes the purple juice from my cheek with a grin. His fingertips linger, and his skin flashes purple for just a second.
My breath catches, and I can’t help but lean into his hand before embarrassment gets the better of me and I shake off his touch.
“Oh yeah, sorry, I knew that,” I say, ignoring the heat in my chest as he touches me.
“You alright?” he asks tepidly, hand still floating in the air where it once held my face.
Does he want us to talk about the kiss?
He’s hovering over me in a way that lets me know he’s got something on his mind.
I nod quickly, standing to walk to the other side of the room. Distance makes it easier to not stare into his kind eyes and not get butterflies low in my belly. Feelings I thought I wouldn’t feel ever again.
We both need something to do, I realize as I lean my hand up against the wall, trying my best to act casual.
Kitaico grimaces and sighs, pointing to my hand.
“It’ll stain the wall too, Leeenuh,” he sighs, bringing the rag over to me again.
“Geez, sorry, my head’s not really in the right place,” I ramble as if he can understand me.
I take the cloth from him and rub my fingers clean. I try to rub my fingerprints off the wall, but the porous rock surface just soaks up the juice on contact. I scrub harder, knowing it’s not going to make a difference.
“It’s alright Leeenuh, it’s kind of unavoidable to not stain something when you eat nuite fruit—it’s one of our most popular dyes,” he says with those same kind eyes I’ve been avoiding.
