Chapter 18
- Theodora -
The experience with that damn tentacle monster and those krolts shook me so badly that I broke down in the saucer when it all went dark.
Kenz’ox dealt with my craziness with his usual calm acceptance, and something thawed in me—something that had bored its claws into me like that drok did with Kenz’ox let go.
This is not a great place. I still want to get home. But maybe it doesn’t have to be as nightmarish as I feared.
“It might not,” Kenz’ox rumbles. “It’s hard to see. But I think we’ve taken all the baths we need today. And we have showed all the Bigs that this beach is ours.”
I tug at his loincloth, wanting it gone.
“We should show them again. And again.” I fight the urge to run back to the saucer after today’s experiences.
But that happened a quarter mile over there, not right here.
And I also have an urge to defy this fucking planet—right here, where only today it tried to kill me and failed. I want to rub its face in its failure.
I spread the leather sheet where the sand is dry. It won’t give perfect protection against the grains, but some is better than none.
Kenz’ox watches me with those intense blue eyes, the fading light of sunset painting his striped skin in warm oranges and deep shadows.
The waves crash softly behind him, a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in my chest. He steps closer, and I reach for his sword belt first, fingers fumbling with it until it loosens, and the whole thing—sword, scabbard, and all—thuds onto the sand beside us.
Then the loincloth. I tug it free, letting the leather fall away, and there he is, fully bare and magnificent in the twilight.
His cock rises thick and heavy between us, that deep bronze shaft shimmering faintly, darkening toward the flared head, the flexible plates along the ridge already starting to firm.
Below, the smaller one pulses eagerly, slick and ready.
My breath catches at the sight of him, this alien warrior who’s become the center of my life on this deadly world.
He growls low, a sound that vibrates through me, and pulls me against him.
His hands are rough from a hard life, but they feel smooth and warm as they slide up my thighs, bunching the dinosaur-skin dress higher until it’s around my waist. I help him yank it over my head, tossing it aside, and then we’re skin to skin—his heat against my cooler flesh, the salt from the sea air clinging to us both.
“Dorie,” he murmurs, my name a rumble in his chest as he lowers me onto the sheet.
The sand shifts beneath it, warm from the day’s sun, and I arch up to meet him, wrapping my legs around his hips.
His mouth claims mine in a kiss fiercer than any we’ve shared before—tongue delving deep, tasting of smoke and wildness, like he’s pouring everything he feels into it.
I feel it too, this shift inside me. It’s not just need anymore, not just survival or distraction from the horrors of Xren.
It’s him. This caveman alien who fought beside me today, who held me when I broke: I love him.
I knew it already, but the certainty hits like a wave crashing over me, pulling me under, and I kiss him harder. My nails dig into his broad back.
He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck, beard caressing me, nipping at the sensitive spot that makes me gasp.
His hand cups my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it peaks hard and aching, and I moan into the evening air.
The waves roll in louder now, as if the ocean itself is urging us on.
“Yes,” I whisper, guiding him closer. He positions himself, the broad head of his main cock pressing against my entrance, slick from my arousal and his own.
He pushes in slowly, stretching me deliciously, those plates along the ridge rippling to life, stroking my inner walls in ways that send sparks exploding behind my eyes.
“Oh, Kenz’ox...” I clutch at his shoulders as he fills me completely, that incredible length seating deep. Then the smaller one finds my clit, pulsing and rubbing in perfect, eager strokes, already slick and insistent.
He starts to move, with deep, powerful thrusts, each one claiming me and reclaiming this beach from the monsters that tried to take us today. The rhythm builds with the waves, crashing harder, faster. His eyes lock on mine in the dim light, glowing with something raw and tender beneath the lust.
“My Dorie,” he growls, voice breaking on the words. “Mine. Forever.”
The words shatter me. I cry out, pulling him down for another kiss as my body tightens around him. “Yes,” I gasp against his lips. “I love you. I love you.”
“And I love you.” He groans, thrusts turning wild, the plates stiffening and rippling inside me, driving me higher. The slimmer shaft pulses frantically against my clit, and it’s too much. I come undone, clenching around him in waves of blinding pleasure, screaming his name into the night.
He follows moments later, burying himself deep with a roar that echoes over the beach, spilling hot inside me as his body shudders. We cling together, panting, the ocean whispering approval around us.
“Now this beach is ours,” I pant as the aftershocks die down. “No Big can deny it.”
“They can try,” Kenz’ox rumbles beside me. “But we will just show them again.”
I stretch on the still-warm sand. “We may have to show them many times. They’re not very smart.”
“It might take them a while to learn,” Kenz’ox chuckles. “And I don’t mind that.” He slowly gets up, his silhouette against the crimson sky like a Greek statue—except those usually don’t have those exotic and insistent protrusions about halfway up.
He reaches his hand down to me. “Let’s check on the roasting skarn.”
I put on the dinosaur-skin dress that Cora gave me. It’s much more comfortable than the jumpsuit the aliens on that weird space station gave me, and it’s more suitable for this active lifestyle. When the girls were here, we cowered inside the saucer and ate the gruel it dispensed.
Now, whatever happens, at least I’m not hiding. And Kenz’ox said I’m a warrior.
I pick up the leather sheet and the spear and take his hand. “Good. I’m hungry.”
- - -
Days pass with no more attacks. Kenz’ox goes to hunt and check on the tribesmen whose dinner he took, but apparently, they left, just like he said. He teaches me some tricks to avoid getting lost, and despite his protests, I go on a couple of food-gathering missions.
I’m even able to find the leather pouch that I dropped, and while the fruits have gone bad, the nuts look fine.
I discover a cluster of blue-white Plood mushrooms and note that they don’t seem to be growing any larger.
They look like Plood, though, and are unspeakably creepy, with little arms and legs sticking out from the main body.
I kick over some of them, leaving just one that I can’t easily reach.
One Plood isn’t going to be a problem. If that’s even how these things work.
Kenz’ox gets the frit still working, and we quickly build another hut for drying meat.
I keep making the boots, which is much harder than I thought.
The dino leather is hard to shape, cut, and even harder to sew.
I have to drill holes with the drok claws on my necklace to pass the wooden needle through the material, pulling leather strands as thick as charging cables.
It takes me days to finish the first one.
It’s a sad, misshapen chaos of weird leather pieces with sharp corners sticking out and thin leather bands crisscrossing it to give it a semblance of shape.
It looks less like a moon boot and more like something an artsy Inuit might wear to a rave party on a glacier.
But I am able to put it on, and if I add some dry grass around my foot, it almost fits.
I give it to Kenz’ox to admire.
“Hmm,” he says, holding it up to the light on three fingers. “It’s very wonderful. Just perfect. What is it?”
“It’s a moon boot,” I tell him confidently, because he doesn’t know what those are supposed to look like. “For walking in the jungle without hurting your feet.”
He gives it back to me. “Ah. Yes, some boys in the tribes do step on sharp things in the jungle before they learn not to.”
“Well,” I sniff, “with this, you can step on sharp things.”
“Wonderful and useful,” he says as he gets Aker’iz to feed her. “For those who enjoy stepping on sharp things.”
“I will make for Aker’iz too,” I promise. “Girls don’t like to walk in jungles barefoot.”
“Then she shall not,” he says as he sits down. “Munbuts, Aker’iz. That’s not something we ever had in the old tribe, is it? Very alien.”
“Uuporlgs!” Aker’iz isn’t too interested in the boot talk and reaches her little hands for the mug where her father has mashed up nuts, fruit, and some fat from a delicious creature he brought back from a hunt.
Otis comes stalking, and I throw him some cold pieces of meat. He’s growing just as fast as Aker’iz, and I start to worry about where it will end. Kenz’ox says he will only grow to reach a caveman’s hips, but he’s not far from there now. As long as he stays friendly, we can deal with him.
I get started on the second boot, determined to make it nicer than the first one.
Kenz’ox finishes feeding and puts Aker’iz in the rocking cradle we’ve made after my instructions, all wicker-like vines and supple twigs.
A big branch full of leaves provides shade for the little inhabitant, as well as protection from big sap drops.
I have plans to put wheels on that thing so we can take the baby on longer trips along the beach.
The little ‘chief’ doesn’t fall asleep right away, but whines and complains so much that I lift her out.
“Your dad said you’re a loud one, but that’s only when you want to,” I comment as I rock her in my arms. “It’s like you understand that it’s not a great idea to make too much noise in the jungle. ”