As I walk toward where Ravok is seated, I trail the length of red string behind me. I giggle when I realize that Mango is in Ravok’s lap again. He’s such a slut for petting. As I stroll past, Mango leaps after the string with his claws extended, his eyes keen and his tail lashing behind him.
I flick and dangle the string, getting Mango to attack it. Ravok sits forward in his seat, a slight grin on his face at the cat’s antics. Ravok watches my demonstration, his eyes following every twitch of the cat and motion of the string. When I offer the string to Ravok, he eagerly takes it from my hand.
Mango crouches in anticipation, the eager glint in his eyes mirroring the glow in Ravok’s.
Ravok mimics my movement, flitting the string from side to side and Mango pounces with nimble glee.
Leaving Ravok and Mango to their game, I take the few steps back to the kitchen. I watch them play for a moment before I start rinsing the dishes. Once I’m done, I quickly toss together the ingredients for an easy beef stew. It should be enough to get us through a few days, even with Ravok’s appetite.
It takes me a few minutes, but by the time I’m done and return to the living room, I find the muscular alien and my cat still playing. The look of enjoyment on Ravok’s face pulls on my heartstrings.
When I return, Mango abandons the string in favor of twining about my feet and purring. When I bend down to pet him, he flops on his side as if exhausted from his fifteen minutes of playtime. I giggle at my pet’s antics and straighten up. I wonder if Ravok will want to play chess some more. However, one look at Ravok’s face has me reconsidering those plans.
Fatigue has his eyes drooping and his shoulders slumped. Now that he has eaten, I imagine his body needs time to work on recovery. Ravok’s rapid healing must be taxing on his system.
I catch Ravok’s gaze, pointing to him and then down the hall to the bedroom. I mimic laying my head on my hands, closing my eyes and pretending to snore lightly, my way of asking if he wants to rest. Ravok’s eyes flicker with curiosity and perhaps a hint of amusement before he shakes his head, his decision clear as daylight.
What can we do that won’t be too hard on him? We could keep playing chess, but I imagine Ravok might start getting bored with that.
Perhaps he’d enjoy watching sports. Its competitive nature might appeal to Ravok and if I pick the right one, it should be simple to follow the rules. I run to my bedroom to grab my laptop as I contemplate what to put on. I consider several options but settle on soccer since I enjoy watching it. The impulse to share my love for sports, and more specifically, soccer, takes over. It’s a game of intense action and strategy, balancing physical and mental stamina. I feel as though Ravok might appreciate those elements. Besides, I reason, the rules are generally simple enough that he should be able to follow them.
I decide to put on one of my favorite matches – the USA vs Algeria in the 2010 World Cup. I was fourteen years old when the original match occurred. At that age, I had been pulling away from my parents, looking for my own direction in life, but it was a tradition to watch the World Cup with my dad. I didn’t know then that it would be the last one we watched together. Plus, other than the nostalgia for me, it was a damn good game.
Once I’ve pulled up the match, I sit beside Ravok.
CHAPTER 28
Ravok
Leelee sits down next to me and sets a device on her lap. Frozen on the screen is an image of a green, manicured field with human males in two sets of matching outfits scattered across its surface. I look at Leelee trying to figure out what she is showing me.
When she sees me looking, a question on my face, Leelee says, “Sokker.”
That word means nothing to me, so I dip my head for her to proceed. Leelee clicks a button on the device and a video begins to play. Scrutinizing the screen further, I observe the human males dart in and out, chasing after a ball. One of the men in a green uniform reaches the ball and kicks it to another man in the same green uniform. The men in white, whom I’m assuming are adversaries, try to steal the ball. The crew in green moves the ball down the grass in a coordinated attack. They are maneuvering the ball toward a net that a man in black is guarding. Leelee points to the men in white and says, “Yu es,” then points to the men in green, “Aljeer ee-ah.”
It only takes a few minutes for me to discern that Leelee is showing me some kind of physical contest – we have similar things on Cryzor but with much more bloodshed. It only takes me a few more minutes to realize that Leelee wants the Yu es team to be the victors.
The concept of physical competition is no stranger to the Cryzorian species. But this ‘sokker’ seems to be a mindless ball game with no apparent direct benefit or acquisition of resources. It is a show of physical prowess to some degree, but I get the impression it is for entertainment only.
Leelee’s eyes sparkle with a sort of captivation as she watches the shuffling patterns on the screen unfold. A soft cheer escapes her lips as one of the human males narrowly misses getting the ball into the net structure. Astonished at her reaction, I turn to face her.
Her entire demeanor exudes an undeniable glow, her eyes never straying from the tiny competition encased within the confines of the device. I could watch her for hours, her expressions are so revealing. And though her mutterings are incomprehensible, I recognize the tones. She is wholly engrossed, her face mirroring the intense drive exhibited by the males on the screen. For a moment, I find it hard to look away… from her joy and the strange, wistful longing it instills in me.
Slowly, I find myself drawn in by Leelee’s palpable enthusiasm. There’s a primal nature to this ‘sokker’, a raw simplicity that spans galaxies, a universal testament to the breadth of survival and contest. I suppose it is more fascinating than my first impression led me to believe.
I covertly observe Leelee as she watches her ‘sokker’ and realize that I cannot allow my people to harm her. Like a flash, I am hit with the determination to keep my people away from this planet. Leelee is worth saving. There will be other planets where I can earn a promotion. As we watch Leelee’s sokker, the air fills with the aroma of something meaty and savory.
Despite Leelee’s poverty, I am impressed with her food. She is an excellent cook. I will dearly miss the food when I return to my ship and mission. Most of my time is spent frozen in stasis as I travel from galaxy to galaxy. However, when I am awake, exploring a region of space, my only sustenance is nutrition gel packs. They provide all the calories and nutrients I need to survive but don’t bring pleasure to my palate like Leelee’s food.
With fascination, I watch Leelee as the game unfolds on the screen. Her eyes spark with delight, and laughter chimes from her in the oddest moments. Each time one of the teams comes close to getting the ball into the net, Leelee gasps, jolts, and cheers. I lose myself in observing her myriad reactions rather than the game itself – the rise and fall of emotion flickering across her face is a language far more intriguing than the muddle of sokker.
Her excitement piques at certain moments; she clenches her delicate hands, her brows furrow, and her lip is captured between her teeth. As we watch the competition, she talks to me. She names the members of the Yu es team and I believe she tries to explain the rules of this game. I watch her lips as she talks rather than trying to interpret or memorize her words. I find myself entranced, mesmerized by their shape and color. When the game finally ends – only one goal scored almost at the very end of the match, Leelee throws her hands up, cheering along with the crowd on the screen. I grin at her jubilation and how her eyes light up with the thrill of victory.
Giving the screen one last look, she dashes off to check on the food, chattering happily as she works. When she returns, she picks up the device and starts showing me an almost endless variety of other ‘sportz’.
I listen as she animatedly shows me the colorful spectacle of these games, but I quickly lose track of the names – each sounding as foreign as the next. As we watch one of the sportz that involves a large orange ball, the view shifts from the arena to the humans in the stands, all packed together like a swarm of zokon insects. The view zooms in on a male and female sitting together. When the twosome realize that they are being viewed, they appear both embarrassed but are also laughing. And then, abruptly, they press their lips together.
A ripple of surprise skates across the surface of my thoughts. Mating acts were part of my training, but I was told that those kinds of intimacies are reserved for the seclusion of a mating chamber. This act feels… private, yet it’s aired for all to view. My pulse races and I struggle to regulate my breath as the scene repeats with another pair. I am equal parts shocked and intrigued by this ritual. I pivot my gaze towards Leelee, her cheeks a hue that mirrors the humans on the screen.
She stumbles on two human words, ‘kizz cam,’ before her attention is stolen away by the resuming sportz match. I am left adrift, but I have no way to question Leelee further about this kizz cam tradition. I turn my attention back to the sportz bout, letting it distract me from my thoughts. But tucked away in my consciousness, the question of the ‘kizz cam’ remains, piquing my fascination with this intricately complex human culture. It looks… interesting.
Soon enough, Leelee puts on a different sportz for me to observe. This one immediately sticks out to me amongst the sportz. Leelee immediately notices that I seem more interested in this ‘bokzing’. It reminds me of my planet’s gladiator bouts: fierce, intense, adrenaline-fueled, and technique-driven. However, these human bouts seemed softer. The fighters’ hands are padded, and they have protectors over their teeth.
As we watch the bokzing, I observe Leelee out of the corner of my eye. The way she flinches away from the violence confirms that she is a creature of peace and nurturing, unacquainted with the brute force and savagery required to thrive in this universe.
We spend several hours switching between watching sportz and facing each other across the ches board. I’ve never had a day quite like it; indulgent, relaxing, and lovely. I’m quite certain it will be a memory I will cherish long after I leave this planet. I wish I could tell Leelee what this day has meant to me, but I cannot explain these things without speaking her language.
After finishing watching something called gahlf, which Leelee quickly realizes I find too slow and tedious, she insists on checking over my injuries. Her eyebrows rise in shock at my accelerated healing abilities. When she bites her lips and gives me an admiring look, I have to quell the urge to puff up in pride, reveling in her attention.
I mime to Leelee that I need to use her washroom again. She helps me to my feet and hovers after me as I make my way to the room. As I wash my hands after using the toilet, I look over at the washing stall and pause. My most grievous injuries are healed enough to use her washing station without worries. I open the door to find Leelee waiting for me. I point at the washing cubicle and mime using it. Leelee looks worried for a moment but then dips her head in acquiescence.
Leelee turns two knobs on the wall, starting a blast of water. I was forced to use something similar at the human facility where I was held, so I understand how it works. As the water heats up, Leelee insists on helping me out of my pants. I’m loathe to admit it is still an agony to bend over to slide the pants down my thighs, so I’m secretly glad that Leelee is so stubborn when it comes to taking care of me. I place one of my hands on her shoulder to help with my balance as I lift each foot, allowing her to tug the material off my legs. When Leelee looks up at me from her place kneeling at my feet, a swooping sensation swirls through my gut and tingles up my spine. Her eyes are so bright and shiny, and her mouth parts slightly. By Cryzor’s Might, I want to—
I shake the thought out of my head and break the eye contact with Leelee, shocked at the direction of my thoughts. I send my nanites rushing to my groin to stop the thickening of my cock. I grit my teeth until my jaw aches, purposefully keeping my eyes off Leelee’s lips. Completely unaware of the direction of my thoughts, she rises to stand and sets my pants on the counter. With her back turned, I take several breaths, willing my thoughts toward mundane tasks.
When Leelee turns back to me, I take note of the flush of pink creeping into her cheeks and how her plush lips are pinched together. For a moment, I think that she knows my thoughts. But it only takes her giving me a small tip-lipped smile for me to dismiss that idea. She’d be running from the room if she knew the visions filling my mind, not smiling at me.
