Chapter 14
- Callie -
The sun beats down warm and golden on our little island, turning every droplet on my skin into a tiny prism. We’re both dripping from the pond, and water sluices off Crat'ax’s muscled shoulders, setting off his glowing stripes that pulsate slowly, like usual when he’s ready.
The alien bushes around us rustle softly in the breeze. Beyond the narrow strip of grass and sand, the jungle presses in thick and dark, alive with distant calls and the constant roar of life. And yet it feels like we’re the only two beings in the universe right now.
I don’t want to wait until we’re dry. I don’t want to wait at all.
“Crat'ax,” I say, voice low and rough from wanting. “Let’s do it here.”
I reach between us, fingers curling around his larger cock. It’s so thick my hand can’t close fully; those spiraling ridges pulse under my palm, violet swirls brightening with his arousal. I feel the same way. I’m so ready I can hardly breathe.
We lie down and I guide him to my entrance, already swollen and slick from the bath, the walk, and the sheer heat of him. The first press of his blunt head makes me gasp. It’s still a stretch, still that delicious edge of too much, but I’m so ready my body opens for him almost greedily.
He sinks in one long, slow glide.
I moan, loud and unashamed, the sound swallowed by the jungle.
The ridges drag along every inner wall, lighting me up from the inside.
He’s deeper than last time, hips flush to mine, and the smaller cock nestles perfectly against my clit—velvety, curved just right, its broad tip rocking with his first shallow thrust.
“Sweet Deep,” he growls, forehead pressed to mine, breath hot against my lips. “You feel… like home.”
I can’t answer with words. I just arch up, nails raking down his back, urging him faster.
He obliges and his thrusts turn harder, less careful.
The wet slap of our bodies is loud in the quiet clearing.
Water still drips from his hair onto my breasts; I feel it trail between us, mixing with my own slickness.
The sun warms my skin and makes every sensation brighter.
The smaller cock strokes my clit in perfect counterpoint to the thick length filling me. Every time he bottoms out, it presses firm and steady, circling without mercy. Pleasure coils fast, too fast. I’m already trembling, thighs shaking around his hips.
“Crat'ax… closer…”
He shifts his angle, grinding deep, the ridges catching just right.
I cry out as the orgasm crashes over me, sudden and blinding.
My inner walls clamp down hard around him, pulsing, milking every thick inch.
He groans, hips stuttering, then drives in one last brutal thrust and follows me over the edge.
Heat floods me, pulse after pulse. His release is so copious that it spills out around where we’re joined, warm and slick against my thighs.
We stay locked together, panting, his weight a perfect blanket over me. The jungle hums around us. Sunlight filters through the leaves overhead in golden shafts. His smaller cock twitches once, twice against my oversensitive clit, drawing a soft, helpless whimper from my throat.
He kisses me then. It’s a slow kiss, deep, tasting of salt and alien sweetness.
We lie like that, with him inside, not needing to talk.
“Again?” he finally murmurs against my cheek, already going half-hard inside me.
I laugh, breathless, and tighten my legs around him.
“Again.”
- - -
I lie for a while after, drying off and listening to the water move around us.
It’s a soft, living sound that makes everything else feel distant and unimportant.
Several small creeks gurgle merrily as they bring cool water into the little lake.
The island is really nice, and it’s a good place for the Lifegivers.
They’re the most alien things I’ve ever seen, and that includes the Vyrzy aliens and anything else on Xren.
Crat'ax is warm beside me, solid and calm. His arm is draped loosely over my waist in a protective touch that I find I really like.
I study the sky through the leaves and let myself breathe. The panic from the night before feels like something that happened to a different woman. Not gone, exactly. Just distant and manageable.
“I should feel strange,” I say finally.
“You do feel strange.” He lets his hand glide up my body until one knuckle strokes a nipple, making it contract.
I smile. “Sometimes. I mean, I should feel strange about all that happened. You abducted me.”
He shifts onto one elbow, looking down at me. “But you don’t feel that way?”
I think about it honestly—about the choices I made and about how clear they felt. “No,” I say. “I feel good. Which is even more strange, maybe.”
His eyes twinkle. “Strange can be good.”
“It can,” I agree. “Really good.”
That makes him laugh. It’s a rough-sounding laugh, like it hasn’t been used much for light things. He presses his forehead briefly to mine, then rolls away and sits up, stretching. Morning light catches the purple striping along his shoulders. Everything looks gentler in daylight. Including him.
Reality nudges its way back in. Theodora flickers through my mind.
But it’s a thread I refuse to pull too hard right now.
I will go back to the saucer the first chance I get.
I can’t go alone, and Crat'ax can’t get away right now.
Also, I should make up my mind about whether or not this tribe is a place I want to stay.
Only then can I give a proper recommendation to Dorie.
“You are thinking far away,” Crat'ax says.
“Not that far away,” I reply. “Just about my friend. Dorie.”
He nods, accepting it without pushing. It’s a small thing, but I like it.
We dress and gather what we need with an easy rhythm, like we’ve done this before instead of inventing it as we go. He checks his spear and the sky. I secure my suit and stretch, testing muscles that feel pleasantly used but not sore.
Crat'ax gives the Lifegivers a final check. “Now we’ll get the iron. Then we go back.”
“I hope no rekh,” I say as I follow him into the canoe. He paddles us back and hides the canoe in the bushes, ready for the next inspection.
The walk to the meteorite is quiet, which is always a good idea.
Sunlight sometimes filters through the jungle canopy, catching on leaves slick with morning moisture.
Crat'ax moves alert but unhurried, always scanning without seeming tense. It’s competence without show.
I find that attractive, in a way that has nothing to do with bodies.
Well, maybe a little bit to do with that. Or even a lot.
At the meteorite, we get to work. I pick up the small pieces I threw last time, and Crat'ax shows me how to pry loose the smaller fragments without cracking them. I listen, ask questions, try things myself. My hands get dirty. I like that. I like not being ornamental.
“You learn fast,” he says, not surprised, just stating a fact.
“Sometimes,” I say lightly. “It has to do with who is trying to teach me.”
His eyes flick to me, amused. “Speaking, too. The boys taught you well. They are good teachers.”
“They are,” I say, straightening with a piece of iron heavy in my palm. “You also are.”
“Oh?”
I place the iron in a small heap. “You just taught me the right word for ‘teach’. I said ‘learn’, which is not the right word. You teached me the right word without trying to teach. Very good teacher, Crat'ax. Now can you teach rekh to not attack, eat leaves only, and clean their teeth so they’re not stinky?”
He chuckles. “I think teaching rekh to clean their teeth would take a better teacher than even me.”
“How do you know about Mating?” I ask, because I’m genuinely curious. There was some clumsiness from both of us, but Crat'ax would have had to improvise more than me, and he was really good.
“The jungle tribes believe in the Woman,” Crat'ax says as he knocks on the meteorite with his rock to loosen more pieces. “Their shamans know about how to Worship and Mate with her. And some of my tribesmen know, too. One boy heard about it and told the rest of us. Secretly, of course. The Deep doesn’t like it when we talk about the Woman. Nor do the old men. But it was the most exciting thing I’d ever heard.
The boy was very popular after. We’d give him food or juice or do his chores in exchange for him telling us about it again and again.
I never thought I’d actually use that knowledge. ”
We work side by side, occasionally brushing shoulders, trading tools, sharing quiet jokes.
There’s an ease here that feels earned in hours, not days.
I’m aware of it even as I refuse to romanticize it too much.
I’ve been swept up before. I know the difference between easy rapport and actual meaning.
But this feels like it could be meaning. Which is terrifying in a much different way.
By the time we head back, the village is fully awake. Smoke curls from cooking fires. Voices overlap. Life continues and there’s no sign of the krai attack or the kidnapping attempt.
As we step onto the platforms, I feel as if the mood has changed. There are more smiles, fewer stolen glances. Some men nod, others give us friendly comments or greetings. And yet some look away too quickly. Others don’t bother hiding their stares.
I straighten my shoulders. I’ve dealt with groups that felt like this. The stakes are different, but the underlying current is similar.
Crat'ax walks beside me, not ahead, not behind. I notice that too.
“They’re calm,” I murmur. “Not tense.”
“So it seems,” he says. “But they haven’t finished thinking.”
We pass a group of men carving a canoe from a thick trunk. One of them frowns openly. Another elbows him, muttering something sharp. The frown disappears. I file it away. Social pressure is a thing here, too. I can work with that. It’s the winning recipe for any Survivor contestant.