Chapter 18 #3
Zale walked over to a blank wall and pressed his hand against it. The wall slid open to show a wide selection of objects of different sizes and shapes. Suspicion tickled me.
This couldn't be what I thought it was - could it?
He picked up several of the objects, then shut the wall again with a press of his hands.
He nodded towards the opening and made a sound at me, then walked through it.
I trailed after him.
We went down a narrow hallway and turned at the end to face a long room.
Small cubicles stood side by side with walls stretching all the way up to the ceiling.
They were wide enough to fit two eight foot alien-sized people side by side, the backs open to us.
The front of each cubicle opened to an elongated stretch of room where various objects hung.
Each object was a different shape, and looked to be models of different aliens.
There were ones depicting the cat elf aliens, as well as several other types, including the lizard aliens, a different type with horns, and one that reassembled and insect. They had perforations in them.
As I watched, one of the aliens standing in the cubicle pointed a cylindrical object at the target.
A bright light suddenly erupted from his weapon and streaked down the range, leaving a burned hole in the shoulder of the alien-shaped object. It made the strange sound I had heard earlier.
"Pew, pew, pew," I grinned.
This was a firing range.
My earlier rage washed away.
He wasn't rejecting my desire to learn how to fight.
He was redirecting it to teach me how to use his species' long-range weapons.
Zale led me to an empty cubicle and set the alien guns down on the neck-height counter. Well, it was neck height on me - on him, it was at his lower ribs. He picked up the smallest device, a small cylinder with an oval flat top and held it up in front of me.
He pointed at a small switch at the side and at a button.
It was right where his thumb would rest if he held it.
He lifted the gun, pointed it at our unblemished target, and pressed the button. Nothing happened. He brought it back in front of me, flipped the switch on the underside, then repeated the gesture.
This time it fired.
He sang something else out, pointing the gun down the range.
He flipped the switch back on the gun, then placed it in my hands.
It was strangely soft, almost if the metal itself was made out of velvet.
He covered my hands with his own, his arms wrapping around me so his chest was at my back.
The heat of him radiated into the small expanse of the empty space between us.
He repeated his song, pointing the gun down at the range..
He then acted as if he was going to point the gun back towards the wall behind us and growled out a negative before pointing the gun back down the range again.
"Right. Basic gun safety. Engage the safety lock until you’re ready to use it. Don't point the gun at other people unless you intend to shoot," I said. "Only point the gun down the range. I got it."
I pointed the gun down the range, flipping the safety off.
Warmth flooded me as I pulled the trigger.
He saw my desire to protect myself, and he was giving me the weapon of knowledge.
It was the tool of knowing how to take down a larger opponent who was more skilled, who was faster and larger. I still wanted to learn how to fight without a weapon, but this was a skill that was more deadly than I could be on my own.
I focused on learning the weapon.
He was the kind of man who would slaughter my enemies.
He was also the kind of man who would teach me how to do that for myself.
More importantly, he was the kind of man who would accept it when I defended myself, when I enforced my boundaries with violence when words weren’t an option, even if it meant that violence was directed at him.
I bit my lip as I lowered the weapon, keeping it pointed down the range as I turned my face to smile at him, the truth of that warm feeling radiating in me.
If I found a way to go back home to Earth, I wasn't sure I would take it.
There was something here I wanted to fully explore first.
I put the safety on and set the gun down on the table.
Then I reached up, twining my arms around his neck.
I pulled.
He bent his knees and lowered his head down towards me, giving into my touch as I tilted my head back. I stood up on the tips of my toes.
I still couldn't reach him.
He looked into my eyes for a long moment, and I felt the weight of the gulf between us.
He was focusing on me, giving me everything I wanted and needed without me being able to ask for it, but was this too much?
Was he giving it to me because he saw me as some sort of alien pet he wanted to take care of?
I pulled a little harder, but he didn't budge.
All I managed to do was lift myself up off the ground for a brief moment.
I couldn't even kiss him without him helping me out.
I let out a sigh and relaxed my arms, lowering my feet back down to the floor.
I kept my face turned up towards him as my eyes flicked down to his lips and then back to his eyes.
Maybe I should just shove my hand down his pants and grab his junk.
That would get my intentions across pretty quickly.
I bit my lip and seriously considered it.
The need to touch him, to communicate in no uncertain terms that I wanted a more physical connection with him, roared through me like a wildfire. I was so impatient. I didn’t want to wait.
I wanted him.
I wanted him to know I wanted him.
Then he brought one of his hands up to my cheek and brushed his thumb across my lips, pressing against it just a bit, his eyes searching mine.
Ooh, even better idea.
I parted my lips and wrapped my lips around his thumb.
I twirled my tongue around the tip and ducked my head forward, sliding my mouth down on his digit as I fluttered my tongue, trying to mimic the sensation of my inner channel when I reached my peak, wrapping around his finger and caressing it.
He let out a low growl, the sound muffled by the repetitive sounds of weapons firing.
I slid my head back, sucking on his finger all the way until it was fully out of my mouth.
Then I mimicked his growl, digging my own fingers into the thick mane at the back of his neck, and pulling yet again, trying to drag him down to my level.
He still didn't budge.
Instead, he put his hands on my hips, his fingers caressing that small spot in front of my hip bones again as he lifted me up in the air. He leaned into me, my legs going to either side of him, pinning me against the sidewall of our small firing cubicle, his hard muscles holding me there.
Then he lowered his head the much smaller distance to mine.
His lips pressed against mine.
His touch was velvet over steel. Inevitability held me there, the strong bands of his arms, my fingers wrapping in his hair, my breath quivering in my lungs as I froze.
I had pushed for this. I wanted this. It was happening.
He was holding me, touching me.
His fingers caressed the edges of my hips, sending trails of electricity through me as my lower abdominals clenched in response, the only part of me to move.
He was so much bigger than I was, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
That thought held me in a vice grip, fear lashing through me.
I wanted this, but I was afraid of it.
This was the fear I felt when I had to walk across the dark parking lot at four in the morning to get to my car after work.
This was every moment I held my breath, a smile plastered on my face as I turned a guy down, waiting to find out if his own face would twist its shape to reveal hatred underneath.
This was that morning I woke up with my head pounding in a bed that belonged to my best friend's new boyfriend, and I couldn't find my underwear.
This paralyzed panic was why I didn't argue when Arnina berated me for hitting on her boyfriend.
Why I walked away and left her to him without a fight, my anger and frozen fear combining to abandon her to a man I knew would abuse her.
This reaction, this familiar trapped, terrified panic, took me by surprise.
Here it was again.
His lips brushed against mine softly, not pressing, as if he were waiting.
I didn't move. I didn't breathe.
He pulled his head back, his eyes searching mine.
My heart pounded in my ears as my fingers clenched tighter, maintaining a firm grip on his wavy hair. His hands relaxed on my hips. His weight shifted.
He was going to put me down.
He was going to step away.
All because I froze.
For the first time in a long time, I felt the heat of the morning glow, the promise of a sunrise on the edge of a horizon. The ice that lined the edges of my heart like jagged shards were nothing against the warming rays.
The promise of dawn ignited me.
He stepped back from the wall, removing my support.
"I want you," I exhaled as I clamped my legs around him, using the clasp of my knees to hold onto him, to lift myself up just enough to close the distance between us. I pressed my lips back against his, breathing in the scent of him as I parted my lips against his, sliding my tongue into his mouth.
He let out a groan as his hand slid down to take a palmful of my ass, his large hand grasping me, his fingers brushing over the fabric that covered me between the legs. I jolted at the unexpected touch and the sudden shot of pleasure that came with it, and he moved his fingers away.
His other arm wrapped around my waist, forearm going up my back as his fingers dug into my hair.
Then he kissed me.
It made me feel like I'd never been kissed before.
Like I'd spent my whole life pretending to join with another person but never really knowing the reality of it, the truth behind a type of connection. This wasn't just the meeting of mouths to stir desire.
This was communion, a connection between two people who wanted each other more than just the satiation of desire.
I wanted to know him, to taste him, to find out the intricate details of his heart.
He wanted me and was willing to stop without me saying that I needed him to.
His fingers slid through my hair.
My tongue touching the tip of sharp fangs.
His tongue exploring my mouth, the small nubs on it different, but delicious.
His sudden inhale as I rocked myself against his abs, grinding against him as I bit his lip.
The moan that escaped me as he pulled my head back and slid his lips down my neck.
The way his hand massaged my butt as he supported me, held me, took me.
It was over too soon.
He didn't just set me down this time.
I was holding on to him.
He chuckled as he peeled my arms away from him and unwound my legs.
He purred, rumbling at me as placed me back down firmly, turning me to face the target.
Then he picked up a larger gun, similar to the small one from before but with a narrower oval on top, and set it in my hands, pointed to the safety and the trigger, and sang something in a voice rough with unsatiated desire.
I took a deep breath and focused down the range.
All I could feel was gratitude.
I didn't know I would be able to feel like this.
I thought this part of me was dead.
His patience had brought me back to life.