Taken By The Alien Next Door

by Tiffany Roberts

  “So…do you get money from some kind of alien hacking technology, or do you actually work for a living?” Tabitha asked, glancing back up at him. “You know, like us normal humans do?”

  Zevris decided not to comment on her abrupt change of subject; he needed a distraction himself if he ever wanted the pain in his shaft to wane. “If I had to do things the way normal humans do, I’d have had to work for a few decades just to afford a home. My understanding is that preparations have been in a place for some time before my arrival. Human funds had been acquired and pooled, likely through hacking, so me and the other operatives could focus on our mission. In theory, I have access to unlimited funding…though abusing that access would bring dangerous attention my way.

  “But I have taken on a job, so to speak, as part of my cover, and it has brought me income. I try to use that money for any necessities before tapping into the rest.”

  “What do you do?” she asked, tilting her head.

  Motivated partly by pride and partly by a yearning to share this part of himself with her, he replied, “Would you like to see?”

  She straightened in her chair, and her brow creased. “You’re…letting me go outside?”

  Zevris cringed and shook his head. “Only if you consider my garage outside.”

  “Oh.”

  “But…perhaps we could eat dinner on the patio this evening? It’s been pleasant enough outside as of late.”

  She smiled brightly. “Really?”

  That smile struck him hard; it was almost enough to make him tell her to forget the whole no-outside rule, to tell her that he’d take her anywhere she wanted to go, anywhere in the world, right now, protocol be damned.

  Yet he could not bring himself to tell her any of those things. Not yet.

  “Really,” he said. “For now, how does a harrowing journey to the garage sound?”

  Tabitha eyed him with mock skepticism. “I don’t know… I mean, I’ve seen a couple garages in my time, and none of them were all that exciting.”

  Zevris smirked and walked over to her, holding out a hand. “But none of those garages belonged to alien special agents, did they?”

  She chuckled. After taking a drink from her mug, she set it back down on the table and placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her to her feet. “It’s not every day I get to have an alien take me to his garage.”

  He absently brushed the pad of his thumb across the back of her hand. Her skin was so warm and soft, her hand so small, so perfect in his. He wanted Tabitha’s hands all over him as much as he wanted to run his all over her.

  Reluctant as he was to do so, he released her, knowing that he could not long withstand the thoughts her touch brought to mind.

  “This way,” he said, walking into the hall.

  Tabitha followed him, looking at him expectantly when he stopped at the door in the laundry room and that would let them into the garage.

  He flicked the light switch to turn on the garage lights. “I must warn you, Tabitha—prepare yourself. For I may have made what you are about to see sound far more interesting than it truly is.”

  She side-eyed him. “As long as you don’t have any other captives in there, and you have nothing nefarious planned for me, then we’re good.”

  He tilted up a corner of his mouth. “That depends entirely upon your definition of nefarious.”

  She ducked her head, but not before he caught her grin. Clearing her throat, she tucked her hair behind her ear and waved for him to continue. “Show me what secrets you are hoarding.”

  As he reached for the doorknob, doubt fluttered in his gut. He’d sold many of the things he’d crafted, had made a few custom-ordered pieces, but he’d never taken anyone he knew into his workshop. He’d never shared this side of himself with anyone. And, though he felt his skills had greatly improved since he’d begun this craft, he knew there was still so much for him to learn.

  That unattained knowledge had been a factor in keeping him interested in this work, but now… Would she see his lack of experience in the pieces he’d made? Would she see the same beauty in the wood that he saw, would she even care?

  Regardless of those doubts, he was still eager to share this with her. Perhaps his passion for woodworking was not quite as strong as hers for making soap and candles, but there was a connection between them in their dedication to their crafts, wasn’t there?

  He turned the knob, opened the door, and stood aside. “After you, Nykasha.”

  She smiled and walked through the doorway.

  Tabitha stepped down onto the garage floor, moved forward another pace, and stopped, her eyes wide as she surveyed her surroundings. “Oh, wow.”

  Zevris paused on the step, easing the door closed behind him. He wondered what this room looked like through her eyes. It had become familiar to him, comforting both in appearance and smell. His tools were arranged so they’d be in the places he was most likely to need them, the floor was swept clean, and many of his projects, both completed and in progress, were on open display. Of course, things were rarely so tidy while he was working, but something about the contrast between the resting order and the working chaos was cathartic for him.

  She moved farther into the room, lifting her hand to touch the varnished surface of the dining table sitting in the center. She traced the wood grain with her fingertips, then moved her fingers toward the middle of the table, where Zevris had used small stones and resin to create a swath of blue running through the wood like a river.

  “You made this?” she asked, awe in her voice.

  “I did.”

  “This is gorgeous.”

  That quickly, the Zevris’s doubt was crushed by a swelling of pride.

  She stepped away from the table and walked to the tall oak bookcase against the wall that held his smaller works—little chests, keepsake boxes, jewelry boxes, and bird houses. Many were unfinished, waiting for his skill to catch up with his ambition, but a few were already varnished and painted, and some were even adorned with simple carvings, engravings, and embedded stones.

  Zevris moved closer to her, flattening a hand on the dining table as he watched her.

  Tabitha reached for one of the keepsake boxes, but she stopped her hand midway and looked back at Zevris. “Can I?”

  “Feel free. If any of it breaks from being touched, I must not have done a particularly good job.”

  She smiled and picked up the box, carefully opening the lid. “My Nan had a keepsake box like this when I was little. It was filled with raw and polished gemstones and rocks she’d collected over the years. I used to take them out and spread them on the floor thinking she was the richest woman in all the world. They were like diamonds to me, all sparkling and beautiful. I thought the white quartz crystals were diamonds. On my seventh birthday, she bought me a keepsake box of my own so I could keep special little souvenirs from our vacations in it. Every year, I’d add something new.

  “This box is going to collect wonderful memories for someone someday.”

  Zevris’s chest ached as he walked over to Tabitha. She’d not said anything to him about her Nan’s passing, and he might not have understood the wistfulness of her smile and tone had he not found out on his own. “Do you still have your box?”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s just still packed away.” She closed the lid gently, running her finger over the design carved into it. “This reminds me of the tattoos on your arms.”

  “My people use such adornments often. On buildings and clothing, on furniture and household items. On ourselves. They’re considered an artform unto themselves, and the true artists make my attempts look pathetic in comparison.”

  “Do they have any meaning?” she asked, turning her face up toward him.

  “They do, though the most intricate of them can be quite difficult to decipher at times. Each has at least one word at its core, woven into the design.”

  “So, what do your tattoos mean?”

  He raised his arms to draw up the sleeve of
his t-shirt and glanced down at the design on his flesh. “They say that I have been banished. They’re the markings of an exiled faloran.”

  Tabitha reared back. “What?”

  “The nature of my assignments as an althicar are often such that they must not be linked back to the Azmus Protectorate. I haven’t truly been banished, but were I ever captured or killed, these markings would have given our leaders grounds to deny any involvement in my actions. Upon honorable completion of my service, these markings will be changed to reflect the risks I undertook in service to my people.”

  She stepped closer and touched her fingers to one of the markings on his bicep. His skin tingled beneath her fingertips, thrumming with faint, electric energy. The marking glowed a little brighter.

  “So if you’re killed in the line of duty…you’re treated like you were just some criminal acting on his own? They don’t bring fallen soldiers back to their families?”

  “An althicar is no typical soldier. I understood the dangers when I volunteered.” He lifted both his gaze and his hand, brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek as he looked into her eyes. “I am far more concerned with what I do with my life now than what happens after I am gone.”

  She smiled softly. “What makes them glow?”

  “It is a reaction between our biochemistry and the substance used to create the markings. It’s supposedly similar to the process that makes our eyes glow, but I can’t pretend to really understand the science behind it.” He looked back down at the marking and willed its glow to cease; it was like flexing a phantom muscle, maddeningly intangible but nonetheless effective.

  She smoothed her palm over his upper arm. “That’s amazing! Even your eyes dimmed.”

  But he knew his eyes had brightened again when he lifted them back to her face; they were clearly reflected in her eyes.

  “So what does the symbol on this mean?” she asked, returning her hand to the keepsake box.

  Zevris touched a fingertip to the lid, tracing the carving. His finger lightly brushed hers. “It means something like…dear or treasured.”

  Tabitha gifted him with that smile he was coming to adore so much. “What’s the word in your language?”

  “Nyka.”

  Her brow creased, and she tilted her head. “That sounds pretty close to what you’ve been calling me.”

  Zevris chuckled, once again running his finger along hers. “Nykasha. It means beloved one.”

  “Oh.” She averted her eyes, and her cheeks pinkened as she placed the box on the shelf. “It’s…a beautiful word. Especially the way you say it.”

  Reaching out, he caught Tabitha by her hips and drew her close. Her breath hitched, and she braced her hands on his shoulders.

  “You are beautiful, Tabitha,” he said, walking her back until she bumped into the workbench. He leaned closer, so his lips were next to her ear, dropped his voice low. “And I’ve a thirst I’m desperate to slake.”

  Tabitha drew back to look at him with wide eyes. “H-here?”

  “No,” he rumbled as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of her leggings and panties. He drew them down slowly, relishing the feel of her soft skin, until they were bunched around her knees. When he glided his hands back up, he cupped her ass and lifted her off the floor. She gasped, bending toward him to brace herself, her hair brushing his face.

  He sat her on the edge of the workbench. “Here.”

  Grabbing her leggings and panties, Zevris yanked them the rest of the way off her legs and tossed them aside before wedging his body between her thighs. He settled his hands on her knees and smoothed his palms over her skin, feeling her flesh pebble under his touch.

  She stared up at him, pupils dilating, eyes hungry.

  Her scent, her need, called to him, and he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with it. His cock, already hard and throbbing, strained against his jeans with enough strength and urgency that it seemed likely to tear the denim apart at the seams.

  “Are you wet for me, Tabitha?” Zevris tilted his head down, brushing his nose through her fragrant hair. He curled his thumbs over her inner thighs. “Do you yearn for more? Are you aching to have my tongue between your thighs, licking that sweet pussy?”

  Her lips parted, and her grip on his shoulders tightened.

  He pushed her legs open wider. “Let me hear you say it, Nykasha.”

  “Yes,” Tabitha breathed.

  That word, so simple, so brief, so softly spoken, was the most moving, powerful thing he’d ever heard in any language. The desirous flames that had been burning within him since the moment he’d first seen Tabitha roared, building to a consuming inferno.

  But he could not give in to it, not yet. Not until Tabitha’s yes meant everything.

  Zevris slipped a hand between their bodies and dragged a finger through her slit. He closed his eyes and groaned, nearly spilling in his pants. She was so hot and wet.

  He worked his finger over her, all the gladder that he’d bitten off the tips of his claws to be able to touch her like this. When he stroked her clit, Tabitha’s breath caught, and she shivered. Her sex blossomed beneath his touch, and her essence gathered like dew upon those delicate petals.

  Taking in another lungful of air perfumed by her scent, Zevris drew back from Tabitha. He was nearly trembling as he ran his gaze down to where he was caressing her. His finger glistened with her arousal. Zevris met Tabitha’s gaze as he raised that finger to his lips, and he did not look away as he took it into his mouth, sucking her sweetness onto his tongue.

  “You are so fucking delicious,” he growled.

  Her eyes flared.

  Zevris dropped to his knees. He would worship her as the goddess she was. Drawing her legs over his shoulders, he grasped her ass in both hands, tugged her toward him, and covered her sex with his mouth.

  “Zevris,” Tabitha gasped, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes.

  Desperate, hungry, burning from within, he swept his tongue over her and drew in her nectar. He groaned as her taste struck him fully, overloading his senses. His cock pulsed wildly, longing for freedom, for relief, for Tabitha’s slick heat.

  He flicked his tongue up to her clit. She jolted, one of her hands coming up to grasp his hair. Even the sting on his scalp did nothing to alleviate his need. His tongue danced around her little bud, teasing it, coaxing out more of her essence. He listened to her soft mews, her breathy moans, her little gasps, loving them all the more because he knew they were only the build-up to something deliciously thunderous and wholly erotic.

  “Zevris…I… Mmph.” Tabitha’s head fell back, her hair a curtain of gold draped over his workbench.

  “Let me hear you, Nykasha. Let me hear you scream.” Zevris speared her opening with his tongue, rubbing his nose against her clit.

  She moaned through closed lips, and he felt her straining, felt her holding back. He would not tolerate it.

  He slid his tongue up along her slickened flesh and poised a finger at her entrance. “Everything, Tabitha,” he snarled. “Give it all to me.”

  “Please,” she whimpered, trembling.

  Zevris thrust his finger into her sex and closed his lips over her clit, sucking it into his mouth and lashing it with his tongue.

  She cried out, her grip on his hair tightening as she drew him closer and gyrated against him. Her channel clamped down on his finger, so fucking tight, so fucking needy, so fucking perfect that seed seeped from his cock. He stroked her, thrusting his finger deeper as he worked her clit.

  Tabitha tensed for an instant, her toes pressing into his back. Then she shattered, his name tearing from her lips in a ragged scream as she bowed over him, her body quivering. He gripped her ass tighter, holding her against his mouth, unrelenting in his assault, unwilling to let her escape. More of that delicious essence flooded her.

  Zevris withdrew his finger from her sex, replacing it with his tongue, and gently eased her down from the heights to which he’d brought her as he lapped up her s
weetness.

  Her soft moans turned into pants as she caught her breath.

  He waited until she’d loosened her hold on his hair and sat up before he pressed a kiss to her clit and drew back to look at her.

  Sitting there on his workbench table, bare from the waist down with her skin flushed, her golden hair flowing around her, and her green eyes bright but half-lidded, Tabitha was the sexiest, loveliest thing he’d ever seen. This was a view of which he’d never tire and would forever cherish.

  Zevris lowered her legs from his shoulders one-by-one, braced his hands on the edge of the workbench, and stood. He grimaced. The ache in his groin was bone deep. He’d gone weeks, sometimes months, without relieving his urges in the past, but now, after having met Tabitha, he felt like he couldn’t go ten minutes without being nearly overwhelmed by need.

  He released a slow, measured breath and placed a hand upon her thigh. He idly stroked her soft flesh with the pads of his fingers, trying to ignore that the feel of her made his desire flare just a little more, that it made his cock just a little harder. “I could drink from you all day, Nykasha, and be left greedy for more.”

  Her eyes flicked between his searchingly. Placing her hands on his chest, she smoothed her palms up to his shoulders. “Help me down?”

  A low growl rumbled in his chest. For a moment, he was tempted to drop to his knees again, to return his face to her pussy, to hear her cries of pleasure. But, somehow, he managed to move his hands to her hips, lift her off the table, and set her gently on her feet.

  Zevris took a step back, meaning to collect her discarded leggings, but Tabitha’s hands curled into fists, clutching his shirt. He halted and arched a brow at her.

  She dropped her hands to his belt and worked the buckle loose as she leaned close to him, her head tilting back and lips curling into a seductive smile. “I’m feeling a little…parched myself.”

  He clenched his jaw and drew in a sharp breath as a jolt of pleasure-tinged pressure coursed through his groin. Her hands moving down there might have been the cause of the sensation, but her words had heightened it beyond his ability to fathom.