19. Meridian
Meridian
NINETEEN
A few weeks into our partnership, Cyreus takes my hand at the rail of Deep Pockets, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
"There's somewhere I'd like to take you. Something I want to show you."
"Another wreck?" I ask.
"No." His voice drops. "Something personal. My home. Where I've lived since the crash."
My pulse quickens. In all our time together, Cyreus rarely speaks of his origins or the circumstances that stranded him here.
"How far?"
"About an hour out. Deep, but accessible with your technical diving equipment."
"Your home?" I can't hide my excitement. "I've wondered where you go when we're not together."
"It's time you saw it." His mouth curves in a slight smile. "I've never shown anyone before. "
"When do we leave?"
"Now, if you're willing. Before that storm hits."
An hour later, we're geared up at coordinates far from shipping lanes.
The technical dive requires extra preparation—mixed gas, redundant systems, careful planning.
As we descend, Cyreus stays close, his natural bioluminescence providing better illumination than my dive light.
The water darkens around us, but his gentle glow creates a sphere of visibility that makes the depth less intimidating.
At our target depth, he guides me toward what appears to be an underwater cave entrance, cleverly concealed between rock formations.
As we swim through the narrow passage, it widens unexpectedly into a large cavern.
And there, partially embedded in the cave's rear wall, rests a section of hull about twenty feet long.
The material isn't anything I recognize.
It's not metal, not fiberglass, but something with a pearlescent quality that seems to shift colors in our lights.
Unlike the deteriorating shipwrecks we normally explore, this material shows no signs of corrosion or marine growth, despite clearly being decades old.
I turn to Cyreus, eyes wide with understanding. He nods, confirming what I've realized—this is a piece of his ship. The vessel that brought him to Earth nearly a century ago.
The cavern itself has been transformed into a living space.
Shelves carved into rock walls hold various artifacts—objects collected over decades, items salvaged from shipwrecks, tools created from materials I don't recognize.
In one corner, a work area with surfaces that emit soft light.
In another, what must be his equivalent of sleeping quarters, though entirely alien in design.
As we circle the space, I notice symbols etched into the ship fragment—angular patterns in his native language. A control panel remains partially intact, though the cave's arrangement suggests he's removed and repurposed components over the years.
Cyreus leads me to what appears to be a storage area. From a water-tight container, he removes an object about the size of a book—flat, rectangular, with no visible controls. He motions toward the surface, indicating we should end our dive.
Back aboard Deep Pockets, storm clouds gathering overhead, Cyreus sits across from me with the device between us. Now I can see it clearly—a rectangular object about an inch thick with a smooth, mother-of-pearl surface that feels warm to touch.
"What is it?" I ask, fascinated but not touching it without permission.
"A log recorder." His fingers trace its edge with familiar precision. "Standard equipment for all exploratory missions. I've been using it to document my time here."
"It still works after all this time?"
"Our technology is designed for extreme environments." He turns it over, revealing symbols similar to those in his cave home. "Not dependent on electricity like yours."
I watch as he presses a pattern on the surface. The device illuminates with soft light. "May I?" I gesture toward it .
He slides it to me. "These are my observations of Earth. Almost a century's worth."
I examine it carefully. The surface displays images and symbols that scroll in response to my attention. Though I can't read the text, the images are clear—coastal views across different eras, underwater scenes, human vessels ranging from wooden sailing ships to modern tankers.
"You've been documenting all this time?"
"It was my mission," he says, pride mixing with sadness. "To observe, understand, prepare for contact. Even after the crash, even knowing rescue was unlikely, I continued."
I look up, understanding dawning. "This is why you know so much about the wrecks we've been exploring. You've been watching them sink and documenting them for decades."
"Humans reveal much through what they build, what they value enough to transport across oceans, what they leave behind when disaster strikes." He touches the device, changing the display to show shipwrecks I recognize from our dives. "Your vessels tell your civilization's story."
"It's incredible you've kept this hidden for so long," I say, staring at the device in wonder.
"I've been careful." He powers down the device. "Your military and research organizations would... complicate matters if they discovered it."
The understatement makes me smile. "That's one way to put it. They'd turn the ocean upside down looking for alien technology. "
His eyes meet mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "In nearly a century, you're the only human I've trusted enough to bring there. The only one who's seen my home, my records... who I truly am."
The weight of this admission settles over me. I reach for his hand, threading our fingers together. "Thank you. For trusting me with this."
"Who you still are," I add gently. "That world remains part of you, even if you can't return."
He pulls me against him, face buried in my hair. For a long moment, we simply hold each other, the boat rocking and distant thunder rumbling.
When he speaks, his voice carries raw emotion. "I've been alone so long I sometimes wondered if I was remembering a dream rather than a real place."
"It's real," I assure him, stroking his back. "And now I've seen it too. You're not alone anymore."
He pulls back to look at me, expression shifting from vulnerability to intensity. His mouth finds mine, kissing me with desire that steals my breath. His hands frame my face, gentle despite their hunger.
I respond immediately, matching his intensity. After sharing his past, this physical connection feels like natural progression, another form of communion requiring no translation.
He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along my jaw, down my neck. "Let me show you," he murmurs against my skin. "Let me show you what you mean to me. "
"Yes," I breathe, fingers already working at my wetsuit zipper. "Show me."
We don't make it to the cabin. A storm approaches, warm rain begins to fall as we shed clothes on the deck, too desperate for each other to care about comfort.
Cyreus shifts forms as his control slips, human features giving way to his natural state. Dark red flesh with burgundy undertones ripples as tentacles emerge, wrapping around me with that perfect balance of strength and gentleness.
Rain falls harder, streaming over us as he lifts me effortlessly, positioning me exactly where he wants. One tentacle circles my waist while others explore every inch of exposed skin.
"So beautiful," he says, voice carrying those harmonic undertones that vibrate through me. "So perfect."
His touch is everywhere—tentacles sliding along my ribs, circling my breasts, tracing patterns on my thighs that make me gasp his name. I'm completely at his mercy, suspended in his embrace as rain mingles with sea spray on my skin.
When he enters me, it's with the same careful attention that defines everything he does. The feeling of fullness, of being completely claimed, sends waves of pleasure radiating through me.
"Look at me," he says softly, and I meet his gaze. "I want to see you. All of you." Our rhythm builds deliberately, every movement maximizing pleasure. His tentacles find each sensitive spot with perfect precision while he moves inside me with increasing urgency .
"Cyreus," I gasp as pressure builds. "I'm close."
"Let go," he urges, voice rough. "Let me feel you."
My climax crashes through me with stunning intensity, pleasure waves that seem endless while he holds me safely. I cry out his name as rain falls on my face, dimly aware of his own release following mine.
Afterward, we remain entwined, his tentacles supporting me while the storm rages. Rain has soaked us both, but neither of us moves for shelter.
"That," he says, voice still carrying alien harmonics, "is what you mean to me."
I nestle closer. "Message received."
Cyreus retakes his human form, finding control again. He carries me to the cabin, his strength making it effortless despite the boat's rocking. Inside, he wraps me in dry blankets, his naked human form against me, warm and right.
As lightning flashes and thunder rolls across the water, I curl against Cyreus's chest, feeling the rhythm of his three hearts beneath my ear. Today he showed me his past, his origins, the world he lost when he came to Earth.
But what matters most isn't where either of us came from. It's the future we're building together, one dive at a time, one truth at a time, one moment of connection after another.
And for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid of what that future might hold.