Chapter 6
SIX
ANDREA
The hallway from Sara's creepy room to my bedchamber was one of the more beautiful ones on the ship.
It was wider now than it was before, when we were all sleeping in the storage closet near the creepy room.
There was a long window that ran along it, and the glittering of the stars in the deep black of space made me feel uncomfortable.
Not just because it was a reminder that I was in a spaceship, but that the spaceship could make massive structural changes without any of us knowing it was happening. The technology was far beyond what I was used to. I was a hairdresser, not a quantum physicist. All this stuff was way beyond me.
It was why I needed to get a good man.
I leaned my cheek against my Big Guy's chest as he carried me down the hallway, his arms strong against my back and under the back of my legs.
He could be my life raft, my anchor to hold me steady against the storm.
He knew about the ship, about all this technology that was beyond me.
He could take care of me, and all I would have to do was do what I was good at and make him feel good.
He carried me across the common room. There were a few women in there, but none of them were paying attention when we entered. That wouldn't do. I let out a loud, piercing laugh, as if I were responding to something funny he said.
Everyone looked over, finally seeing my man carrying me off to have his way with me. I gave them a big smile and a wave.
"My body language subroutine was unable to decipher the purpose of that noise," my Big Guy said.
"I just wanted the others to know I was having a good time," I said. "Because you're so big and scary. You know, to reassure them that I'm alright."
He made it to the door of my room and carried me inside.
My heart thudded in my chest as he set me down gently, one of his hands sliding up along my back, sending shivers of pleasure through me at the light touch, along with the fact that he left it there, his warm palm against the back of my neck, his fingers resting lightly.
"Should I pick up where I left off?" I asked, already reaching for the front of his trousers. Now that the chip was out of his head, I could finally finish him off properly and show him what these lips were really for.
His fingers tightened, still gentle, but firm enough to stop me as he tugged me back away from him, holding me out at arm's length.
"First we talk," he said, his tone serious as he stared at me with those gorgeous purple eyes. "You just said I was frightening you, which was different from my understanding of the situation. I must make certain that we have the same understanding before I proceed."
"Proceed with what?" I said, so impatient.
The space between my legs was tight and hot with anticipation.
Giving head turned me on so much, and after we were done and he fell asleep, I could take care of my own needs, thinking back about the way his face looked, the sounds he made.
From my experience, satisfying a man properly meant the night was over, but it was always worth it to see the way he looked down at me while I was on my knees for him.
"From the things you have said and done, I was under the understanding that you wished to mate with me, and you wished me to take an aggressive role in the mating," he said.
"Whatever you need, I'm ready," I said, my body flushing with further excitement. "I'm here for you."
"So you do wish to mate with me?" he asked. "You are not frightened?"
"No, of course not," I said. "You're not a bear."
"That word didn't translate well, as I am a predatory mammal of sorts, so I don't think that is what you meant.
I'm a recently freed Calicium unit with no mating experience beyond the observation of my origin species," he said.
"If you are willing, I would like to go through what I learned of them to try to reconnect myself with that culture. "
His words were so straightforward, delivered in a delicate and non-emotional manner, but the meaning behind them carried a depth that caused me to pause.
He was asking me for something special, something unique, something that he needed in this moment. Even if I didn't understand the full scope of what he was asking, I could tell that it meant something to him, and therefore it meant everything to need.
"Just tell me what to do," I said. "I'll do anything for you."
"The mating ritual starts with me stripping you and covering you in my secretions," he said.
"You must stand still and act disinterested.
If you wish me to stop, you walk away. If you find my movements pleasing and wish me to continue, you will face me as I move around you, and allow me to strip you. "
"Whatever you need," I repeated.
He let go of the back of my neck and stepped away from me.
There was plenty of space between the bed and us; this bedroom was significantly larger than the closet-sized room I had in Paris.
He wanted me to act disinterested but also stand still, so I turned to face the other direction and crossed my arms. I should have expected that an alien would have different foreplay needs, and even though this wasn't what I was used to, it was exciting in an entirely different way.
I wasn't used to men talking to me about what they needed.
I heard the rustle of metallic fabric clinking against the table on the far side of the room, and goosebumps raised up on my arms. He had undressed. This was really, finally, happening.
I was about to land my man.
"I have never performed this before; I have only observed it," he said. "Please let your reaction be natural. If I am unable to hold your attention or the movements disinterest you, look away."
He was the only thing in this room I was interested in.
My Big Guy didn't move into my view; he oozed.
He slid through the space, leading with his shoulders and head, his bare chest and abdomen following after as his entire body rolled through the air like he was swimming through it, like it could support his weight up until the last second when his feet followed after, gliding in to keep him from falling.
He could stand still and flex, and that would be far more than enough to get my attention, but this movement emphasized every muscle in his body, activating them as he performed another wave with his entire body to center himself in front of me.
I couldn't look away.
His skin, vivid and impossible cyan, seemed to absorb and reflect the soft light that poured down from the ceiling, highlighting the contours of his broad shoulders and tight torso, catching the subtle accents of his delicate scale patterns.
The vibrant pink fin-like spikes that covered his head and ran down the back of his neck flashed and sparkled as he moved, the shifting angles of his body causing them to catch and reflect the light in iridescent flashes along the walls.
He didn't speak, nor did he need to.
Every movement was a deliberate, sinuous shift of muscle. He stretched his arms upward, then down, his muscles rippling with an unearthly fluid grace before rolling his spine downward in a slow hypnotic wave. His hips shifted with the rhythm of his body, weaving a trap out of the swaying motion.
I blinked, and he shifted his weight, leaning into a low predatory bend that pulled his chest impossibly close, his fingers ghosting over the seams of my shirt, running along the edges to caress the sensitive rise of my hipbones.
His gaze stayed locked on mine as he turned his head to one side, then the other, the flashing of his hair mesmerizing me as he slid my shirt up, his palms running along my bare skin as he urged my arms up, and then it was sliding up over my head, and it was off.
Words failed me as he danced close to me, his fingers hooking and pulling my pants and undergarments down as he dropped into a low lunge, then off one foot, then the other.
He didn't rise back up, instead his nose and mouth brushed along the bare skin of my thighs as he managed to dance down low, rolling the muscles in his back, the soft spikes and scales continuing to catch the light, accenting every movement as his hands wrapped around my thighs, his breath hot as his face brushed upwards, tickling and teasing my trembling skin, and then he was there, between my legs, his face pressing against the soft hair that had no way to remove.
He pressed his face in and inhaled deeply, letting out a groan.
"You don't have to do that," I stammered. I had never had a guy go down on me before. It wasn't something that men liked to do, so I never asked and no one ever offered.
He pulled his head back and looked up at me.
The purple in his eyes was shifting, like there was a whirlpool around his pupils.
"You said you would do anything for me," he said. "If that is the case, then spread your legs; I wish to taste you."
"Are you sure?" I whispered. "You don't have to."
"Applying my secretions is an important step in the mating ritual," he said. "It neutralizes the female's natural defenses and increases the likelihood that the mating will secure her affections. Do you want me to stop?"
This was important to him.
He wanted to do this for the first time with me, and he wanted to experience every step of it. I felt uncomfortable with the idea of receiving like this, but at the same time, it was a discomfort I was willing to push past. Anything for my man.
"No, I want to do this for you," I whispered.
He put a gentle pressure on the inside of my thighs, and I gave in, shifting my feet a little further apart. He pressed his face back in, the muscles on his back flexing and relaxing, continuing to shift the fin spikes along his back to catch the light with their movement.
Then his tongue found me, sliding up against the outside of my slit.