I drag my paint-tipped finger down her small nose, creating a stripe. “Because you are not happy that they are happy?”
Her eyes cross and she peers at the stripe. “Why are you painting me?”
“It’s custom when we celebrate. We show our joy with color.”
The sad look enters her eyes again. “Then maybe you should save your paint for someone else.”
“Nonsense.” I dab a bit on her chin, and then make two colorful streaks on her delicate cheekbones. She’s silent as I do, watching me. I want to say flirty things to her, to bring a smile to her small face, but she just looks so forlorn that any jokes I make will seem foolish. I finish with her face, study my art, and then dab my finger into the paint pot again and begin to draw lines on the delicate cords of her neck. Her skin feels so soft under my touch that it makes my cock ache instantly. “You bring me joy. Does that not count?”
Instead of the eye-roll I expect, she just looks even sadder. “You should give up on me, Aehako. Spend your attentions on a girl where you might go somewhere with her.”
“Go…somewhere?” This is another baffling human phrase. We have the words, but the way these humans use them does not make sense.
Kira just sighs and tries to look away.
I catch her chin before she can. “I found out what a kiss is,” I tell her, pleased with myself. This will distract Kira and bring the sadness from her eyes. I expect her to flinch away, to pull back and chide me for flirting with her again.
Instead, her gaze goes to my mouth. Her lips part slightly and she leans in. “Oh?”
I know an invitation when I see one. I lean in and brush my mouth against hers. I’m uncertain about the details of kissing but I’m sure I can figure it out. If it’s anything like licking a cunt, I’ll just watch for her cues.
Kira’s lips are soft and pliant, and my mind automatically imagines them on my skin. My cock feels like rock inside my breeches. She presses her small lips to mine, and I pause, uncertain where to take this. Vektal always looks as if he’s devouring his woman.
But then Kira’s tongue brushes against the seam of my mouth, and I part to let her in. She’s taking the lead on the kiss and I’m fascinated – and aroused. Her hands curl in the front of my tunic and I pull her against me, feeling how fragile the human is compared to my stocky, muscular body. She has no horns, no plated ridges to protect her soft parts, and her vulnerability frightens me.
Then her tongue touches mine and I forget all about her fragility. Lust roars through me, and I tentatively flick my tongue against hers. She tastes like the fermented tea, a sweeter, more delicious version. And her tongue is smooth and slick, unlike mine that has the textured ridges that all sa-khui do. She realizes this and a soft sound of surprise passes from her mouth.
But she doesn’t pull away. Her hand goes to my cheek and she caresses my jaw, and we continue to kiss. My mouth slants over hers, and I tongue her back, mimicking the motions she began with. When she doesn’t stop, I continue, my flicks stronger and bolder, questing. Over and over, I fuck her with my tongue. This, I realize, is what the appeal is to humans. This is a tease with mouths, a promise of what a mating will be like. It feels incredibly deviant.
It also feels amazing.
I can’t stop kissing her. I see why humans are so addicted to this.
She pulls away after a moment, and looks up at me. There’s dazed lust in her eyes, too, and her hands are clinging to me.
“Come,” I murmur, leaning in and flicking my tongue over her lips again. “The others are busy celebrating. My cave will be empty. We’ll have time to be alone.” And I’m eager to explore her human body and find out what she likes.
She blinks rapidly, and then shakes her head. “No, not yet. I…” Her voice trails off and her eyes become glazed. Her hand moves to the silvery shell that juts from one ear.
Then, a look of horror crosses her face.
PART TWO
KIRA
They’re coming back.
A small part of me had always hoped that we’d never see their spaceship again. That they’d forget all about the cargo they dumped here and let us live out the rest of our lives here in peace with Vektal’s people. We’d settle in, make the best of a strange situation, and eventually forget all about our initial kidnappers.
Wishful thinking, I guess.
But when the birdlike tones of the Little Green Men filter in through my translator earpiece, my entire body tenses with a wash of memories. Of being pulled from my apartment in the dead of night and waking up on an examining table. Of the horrific first encounter with the aliens, and their frustration with me when I couldn’t understand them. Of being held down while they forced – painfully – the translator into my ear. Of weeks spent terrified in the hold, reeking of filth. Of being afraid to make the slightest sound.