Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
SELENE
Ilead Khatak by the hand into my bedroom. My own small space of luxury. Of complete and utter safety. Because that’s what living in this alien universe has become: a sense of always being on alert, always waiting for the moment when someone grabs me again.
But not him. For some insane reason, I trust Khatak.
“I know it’s not much,” I stammer, suddenly feeling shy. “But I…”
I want to impress him, I realize. For the first time since I arrived on this planet, this room feels like something I want another to approve of.
It’s all I have. I’ve never cared before, when the other girls have come to hang out and watch whatever accounts for dramatized television on alien channels.
I glance around, trying to see my space through his eyes.
My neatly made bed, the lilac sheets pulled crisp.
The window overlooking a private courtyard for staff—one where no alien guests can pass by unannounced.
A doorway leading to my own fully tiled bathroom.
Small, though I prefer to call it cozy. Bigger than the one back on Earth, I have to admit.
I never had a walk-in bathroom of my own before.
Khatak walks around in my space. There’s not much for his gaze to linger on. I haven’t collected trinkets. Not like back home. I used to travel a lot. I used to buy a souvenir from each of the places I visited, leaving them behind before I went on another adventure. Here… my room is bare. Barren.
No. It’s tidy and neat, I tell myself. I don’t need alien junk to put in here. Just the things that remind me of home.
Khatak turns to face me. The way his eyes seem to glow, to pierce into my soul and see everything…
Not an invasion, I tell myself. My nerves hammering at my body, my heart bumping out an erratic rhythm. I invited him here. I chose this.
I could always tell him no. I could always end this…
But it’s not what I want, is it? There are a bunch of us humans living on this planet, and we’re all girls. And as much as I love them, I want that deeper connection with someone. I always have. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I traveled so much before, always searching for that special someone.
What if it’s him?
“Are you sure about this, Selene?” he asks. He speaks quietly, barely a whisper, but in the silence of the room his question is deafening.
No, I’m not sure about this. At least that’s what I want to say. But it’s the fact that he asks me that gives me pause. Most guys wouldn’t hesitate when invited behind closed doors. Most guys would plaster themselves to you, and whisk away any chance of a ‘no’ from my lips. Khatak isn’t most guys.
He’s an alien. But… he’s kind of my alien now, isn’t he?
I lick dry lips, noting how his eyes rivet to the action. Wherever he looks at me, I can feel a burning response in my own body. I can’t help but wonder: what would his own lips feel like against mine?
I take a deep breath and walk up to him. A hopeful hip-sway in my step. The desire to groan out my frustration building up. Why does this feel like my first time? I’m not in high school anymore!
I stop only inches away from him. I can feel the heat radiating from his body. This close, I can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his breath heaving from his lungs. It matches my own.
Between us, his hand lifts… and hesitates.
Is he just as nervous?
“Can I… kiss you?” he asks.
I nod, because I can’t find the words to respond.
I’m not sure I could even croak out a response that would be intelligible right now.
Not because I’m scared, but because my body is a live wire, taut and ready to snap.
Or combust. Something like that. I just know that whatever happens next is going to be explosive.
His hand ghosts over my jaw. Red skin and black nails feather lightly across my skin. Goosebumps erupt all over, sensitive nerves flaring at his soft touch.
He has the power to destroy me, but given the slight tremble in his own touch… I have that power too.
He kisses me slowly at first, tentatively. I surrender to it, encircling his neck with my arms and drawing him nearer until our forms align, his solid build pressing into my softer lines in a way that ignites me. Needing more, I press close.
Not close enough. I want more. His muscles are hard against me, and it feels so good. Solid, supportive. Like I could fall, my knees could buckle, and yet his strong arms will keep me up and never let me fall.
His tongue brushes my lips, and I welcome him, a quiet moan rising as the kiss intensifies. I savor the taste of spice and apples. I don’t know if he’s been drinking our Halloween refreshments, or if this is all him… but it’s addictive. I moan as his tongue slides along mine, brushing teeth.
We edge toward the bed together, my hands working the fastenings of his shirt in my eagerness to feel him bare.
“Take it off,” I gasp, already tugging at the fabric.
Without preamble, he yanks his shirt off, somehow effortlessly clearing the horns peeking out from his head.
Despite his fumbling, hesitant nature, I’m reminded that there is a gracefulness to Khatak that lingers beneath the surface.
I am left wondering if anyone else ever truly sees this side of him.
He doesn’t hide it, but does anyone take the time to actually see him?
I’m left gazing down at a toned chest. Hard pecs. I slide my hands down the smooth surface. Taut muscles jump to attention, his abs defined and bunching.
His hands grip my own clothing, fingers lingering on heated skin as he slides it from me, leaving me exposed. The chill of the room contrasts with the fire in his stare as he takes me in completely.
Vulnerability threatens to overwhelm me as I stand in my stark nudity before him, but I shove it down. Instead, I embrace the strength in his evident longing.
I draw him down onto the mattress, where we sink amid the rumpled fabrics. His weight settles over me, comforting and insistent, his arousal evident against my thigh despite the remaining barrier of his trousers.
My nails press into his shoulders to encourage him. He trails kisses along my throat, grazing the tender area near my ear with his sharp teeth. A moan escapes in a shuddered breath, but I can scarcely tell if it’s his or mine.
His palms envelop my breasts, his thumbs teasing the peaks until they stiffen beneath his attention.
“You’re stunning,” he whispers, before lowering his head to draw one into his mouth, applying suction that sends electric pulses racing downwards. I shift restlessly, my hips seeking contact instinctively.
“Khatak,” I murmur with raw urgency, my grip in his hair keeping him close. He shifts to the other side, his tongue delivering precise strokes that leave me breathless, moisture gathering at my core.
Driven by impulse, I slide my hand lower to grasp him through the fabric, sensing his immediate response.
A guttural noise rumbles from him as he aids in removing the last obstacle, his erection emerging firm and imposing.
I encircle it with my fingers, moving steadily along its length, appreciating the smooth texture over rigid form and the way his respiration falters.
It’s not at all like a human’s, I realize, gripping him harder.
His answering moan gives me the confidence to peel those pants off of him. Dark red skin, black hair, revealed inch by inch. And another thing, though counting by inches almost doesn’t do it justice.
His penis is large. So much larger than anything I’ve ever dealt with before. Even my BOBs. He’s got two large bumps along the turgid flesh. Knots. He’s completely foreign. Alien.
Heaven help me. I realize I don’t want human right now. I want him. Everything that makes him unique. Everything that’s going to make him feel so much better than everything I’ve ever had before.
“Selene... damn,” he mutters, his movements syncing with my rhythm.
He positions himself between my thighs, his digits exploring my slickness with care.
“You’re drenched,” he observes, his touch encircling my sensitive nub in ways that draw a muffled gasp from me as I lift off the bed.
He introduces two fingers, easing them in to prepare me, bending them to stimulate hidden places that amplify my pleasure.
I tighten around him, but he retreats, heightening my ache.
“Please,” I implore without reservation, this plea a testament to my growing faith in him, exposing my deepest cravings.
He aligns himself properly, the tip poised at my opening, and holds my gaze, revealing his own underlying apprehension mingled with admiration.
I affirm with a nod, my legs encircling his waist to urge him forward.
In a fluid motion, he enters me fully, the sensation of completeness verging on overwhelming before shifting to ecstasy. I cry out, my inner muscles adapting to his size. He pauses to allow adjustment, our foreheads touching as we share uneven breaths. Staring into my eyes. Intense. Intimate.
I’ve handed myself over to him completely, and in this moment I’m okay. I trust him. I trust the way he gazes at me, watching for any sign of discomfort. He cares about me, and my needs, and he’s putting me first.
Gradually, he initiates movement, withdrawing and advancing in a controlled pace that synchronizes us.
The tempo accelerates, his drives becoming more forceful, the impact of our bodies resounding through the chamber. I reciprocate each advance, my nails scoring paths across his back. Perspiration makes our skin glide effortlessly, his shaft delivering friction that coils tension within me.
“Deeper,” I urge, and he complies, surging with increased vigor, our vocalizations blending—his grunts mingling with my pleas and pleasure.
My pace quickens, breasts swaying with the pounding rhythm. He captures them within his heated mouth, applying a sucking pressure to the tips that heightens the sparks racing to my center.
The buildup surges.
“Let go for me,” he commands, the words propelling me into release. Khatak never commands, and yet in this moment he’s so sure of himself. So confident. So in control.
And I don’t have to be.
I give myself over to him fully.
My climax overtakes me abruptly, a torrent of sensation contracting around him in rhythmic pulls that trigger his own release. He emits a deep sound, warmth flooding me as he trembles in completion.
We remain connected in the aftermath, our pulses decelerating as one, his touch wandering idly across my side.
My heart is no longer beating so wildly, establishing a steady and calm rhythm behind my breast. My limbs feel heavy, languid. At rest. A heavy sense of peace washes over me as my eyes flicker closed.
“I could get used to this,” I mutter. The words I don’t mention are that I could get used to him, though. Every day. Because I’m finding myself really falling for this guy. Even if he’s an alien.