Chapter 12 Iris
IRIS
Garrik carries me like I weigh nothing.
One arm hooked over my thighs, the other bracing my back, his chest solid and warm against mine as he moves through the cottage toward the bedroom. My arms loop around his neck automatically, and I nuzzle into the space beneath his jaw, breathing him in.
He smells like…flour and citrus and wildflowers. Like the kitchen and the garden and the honey-warm memories of nights on Earth when he kept me safe.
He smells like home.
I don’t ever want to part from him again.
The bedroom door creaks open and shuts behind us with a soft click. Moonlight spills through the high windows, painting the space in cool blue shadows and soft silver glow. Some alien insect chirps outside the window, birds singing, fluttering wings.
Garrik doesn’t move for a moment; he just stands at the foot of the bed, holding me. I reach up to touch his face, brushing my fingers through the dark curls at his temples, weaving into his soft beard.
“You’re not still nervous, are you?” I ask.
His throat bobs. “I just…want to get it right. And I don’t want to hurt you.”
I smile softly, resisting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it. “Garrik…you brought me on the most wonderful day today. You made me an amazing dinner, wine and dined me…and you made me come more times last night than I can count? I think…there’s no way you won’t get it right.”
He exhales slowly, brows furrowed…then he rests his forehead against mine. “I’m nervous because you’re precious to me,” he whispers. “I love you, Iris. I don’t know when it happened…but it’s true. I love you.”
My breath catches—because it makes perfect sense. Of course, I love him too. I love him so much I can barely breathe.
“I love you too, Garrik,” I whisper. “You’re…you’re the most important person in my life. I don’t want to lose you and I know you won’t hurt me.”
Garrik’s eyes meet mine, and then slowly—so carefully—I feel him shift. He adjusts me in his arms so I can slide down to the edge of the bed, legs dangling over. I gaze up at him as he gently reaches for my glasses, pulling them off of my nose.
They’re delicate, old, they’ve been through a lot—and his hands dwarf them—but he handles them like glass. One time on Earth a few years ago, I lost them and Garrik had to guide me around like a lost puppy. He knows how important they are, and he handles them like he knows.
Just like he handles me…how he’s always handled me.
Then he’s kneeling in front of me, unbuttoning my dress one agonizing button at a time. He reveals my breasts and leans in to kiss down my cleavage, finding my nipple and dragging his big tongue over it, and I clutch his face to my chest.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp.
“You always had a dirty mouth,” he chuckles.
I laugh. “You have no idea.”
He looks up at me from where he’s knelt—hands on my thighs, dress unbuttoned to the waist, his breath fanning hot over my skin. And for a second, the entire universe narrows to just that look.
Those golden eyes.
The one I’ve known across battlefields, through dusty archives, under starlight, beneath rubble, through laughter and grief and too many bad meals in worse camps.
The one who’s always had my six. Always knew when I was bluffing. Always made space for me when I didn’t know how to ask.
And now…he’s looking at me like I’m everything.
“Iris,” he says, voice low and uneven, “you know I want you, right?”
I nod.
“You know I’d give you anything?”
I nod again, reaching out to stroke my fingers through his curls. “So stop acting like you’re about to break me.”
His mouth twitches. “You’re very small.”
“I’m very stretchy,” I counter.
A strangled sound escapes him—half laugh, half groan.
“You’re reckless,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against my stomach.
“And you love it.”
“I do,” he says, without hesitation. “Gods help me, I really do.”
I run my fingers through his hair, then gently tug him up—urging him to stand so I can finish unbuttoning the rest of my dress.
He obliges, towering over me, and I have to stand on the bed just to reach the final few buttons.
My fingers tremble slightly. From nerves, from anticipation, from the sheer intensity of what I know is coming.
When the fabric slips off my shoulders and pools at my feet, Garrik doesn’t move. He just looks at me—like he’s memorizing the sight, like he’s cataloguing it for safekeeping. Not with hunger, not just—but with reverence.
Like I’m made of stardust and sunlight and sacred things.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.
“I better be,” I say, trying to keep it light, my voice shaky. “You’ve seen me sweaty, grimy, bloody, and rage-caffeinated in three-day survival sweats. This feels like a step up.”
His brow furrows. “You were always beautiful.”
I blink up at him, chest too full, throat too tight.
“Your turn,” I whisper.
He hesitates—just for a second—but then he pulls his shirt off over his head. Slowly, like he’s giving me a gift. And god, what a gift. His chest is broad, warm, scattered with moss-green curls and a few scars I recognize from long-ago battles. His stomach ridged, strong, familiar.
Safe.
And then, he undoes the fastenings at his waistband and lets his pants fall.
Holy…
I knew, logically. I knew. I’d felt it. But seeing him bare, thick and flushed and already hard, pulsing with want—it makes something flutter in my chest and drop straight between my legs. And…he’s alien, with a ridge along the top that almost looks like a brush or feather, and it’s colorful.
I step closer on the bed, transfixed, balancing as the mattress gives under my feet.
We’re both naked, and I’m not touching him, and that feels wrong but also right because I just need…
well, a second to process. Garrik’s face is turning brighter and brighter pink as I openly stare at his cock, his antennae twitching.
“Can I…?” I ask, gesturing toward his crotch.
Garrik snorts, clearly embarrassed. “Uh…yeah—”
“I don’t mean to be weird, you just,” I pause. “Humans don’t have that.”
He chuckles. “Ah…the hasp. It’s—I didn’t realize—gods—”
He abruptly cuts off when I grasp his cock, my fingers wrapping around him, my thumb grazing the hasp. Garrik’s eyes squeeze shut and his hips rock into my hand, cock throbbing, and the hasp—it’s vibrating. Maybe…holy shit, it’s sucking a little.
“What the…”
“I’m flattered,” he wrenches out.
I let out an awkward laugh, still utterly obsessed with his cock. “Sorry, this is just…”
His eyes flicker open to meet mine. “...alien?”
I shake my head, biting my lip. “It’s going to feel really good when you fuck me,” I breathe.
Garrik’s hips rock again and I brace myself on his shoulder as I stroke him with my other hand. He’s so hot, heavy, velvet-soft, and the hasp…it trembles, vibrates. Garrik’s fingers thread into my hair and hold me close, his lips parting in a gasp.
“Garrik,” I murmur. “You’re beautiful.”
He lets out a choked laugh. “Not the word I would use.”
“What is?”
His voice drops as his eyes open and he looks at me from beneath his lashes. “Very, very horny.”
I grin, and then I keep my eyes on him as I sink slowly to my knees. It puts me right at eye-level with his cock, and I keep stroking it, realizing only now how huge it is. My hand doesn’t even fit around him, I can’t imagine my mouth will…but I want to try.
“Did you happen to bring that magic honey in here?” I ask, looking up at him.
Garrik responds instantly, groping around on the side table for it as I stroke him. A second later, he’s opening the jar, dropping a drizzle of honey down on his cock.
I lick it up, feeling the buzz of pleasure as it hits my tongue and lips, and Garrik groans, yanking on my hair.
“Iris!”
I wrap my lips around him and take his head fully into my mouth, and Garrik’s hips rock again.
He doesn’t want to hurt me—but he can’t control himself.
And I love it. I love how he gives in as I suck on him, how he starts to thrust his hips…
softly, not enough to go too deep, just enough to show me how much he wants it.
I moan around his cock, curling my tongue to get every drop of honey.
Garrik’s hips stutter, his fingers curling tighter in my hair, his voice breaking on my name. I pull back slowly, lips slick, mouth tingling from the honey and heat, and rest my cheek against his thigh for just a moment—letting him catch his breath. Letting myself bask in the effect I have on him.
“Iris,” he says again, rough and reverent, cupping my jaw and guiding me up to stand.
The way he looks at me…like I’m a miracle.
Garrik’s breath is hot against my throat as he eases me back on the bed, the weight of him braced on one forearm while his other hand strokes slowly down my thigh.
“Tell me if anything’s too much,” he whispers.
“It won’t be,” I breathe. “I want you.”
Still, he doesn’t rush. He kisses me—long and slow—while his hand coasts lower, hooking behind my knee to draw my leg higher around his waist. I can feel the weight of him against me, thick and pulsing, and the want in my belly flares hot and sharp.
“Breathe, honeybee,” he murmurs.
And then he starts to press inside.
The first stretch makes me gasp.
He groans into my neck, barely holding himself back. “Gods, you’re tight…”
I nod, dizzy, biting my lip as the head of his cock pushes past the resistance.
My body stretches around him, aching with pressure, but not pain.
It’s too much—but in the exact way I want it to be.
I’m not sure if it’s because some weird twist of fate had me destined for this, or if it’s the honey, or just how turned on I am by this gorgeous man… but I take him and it doesn’t hurt.
It feels good.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “Just like that.”
He moves in tiny increments, watching my face the whole time, his eyes molten gold. Every slow slide forward makes me see stars. He’s so big—bigger than I thought, even after everything—and my body is struggling to keep up. But it’s not struggling in fear.
It’s need.