by Sabrina Kade
It is difficult not to take the looks from my brothers personally as York and I walk back towards my private lair. Prince Korben is pleasuring his Chosen, and though York’s eyes widen in shock at the noise, she does not run away from me as I move past and stop in front of my room.
The blanket covering the doorway is my own, something I managed to have shipped thanks to Dolan, and it smells like home as I push it away, inviting York inside with a tilt of my head. The sun rayers are at full blast, but I know the humans do not like them, so I start to turn them all down so York is more comfortable. I will turn chilled, but it will be worth it to keep York happy.
There is not much in my small lair because unlike Prince Korben and some of the others, I do not require much. I need a bed to sleep in and a cup to drink from. I need a few pieces of fabric to cover my cock and thicker fabric to make a backup mask if the one I have now is ever ruined. My brothers are used to seeing what lies behind it, but I fear the faces of the human women – York in particular.
Being alone with York is an odd surprise, made odder in that she came back with me so readily. She is tiny. If I wanted to take advantage of her in any way, it would not be difficult. Humans are some of the weakest beings I have ever seen, and though I hear the males are stronger, I cannot imagine that I wouldn’t be able to handle myself against one. Before York became an entertainer and found herself here with us, did she have a lover? Did she have a Chosen? Do humans do that type of thing? She is so beautiful; I cannot imagine her without a harem of admirers.
My room is warm, but that is only because of the sun rayers. My room is not very inviting for something as stunning and as interesting as York, and suddenly I find myself wishing for personal objects from home. Dolan’s room has plenty of things he begged Mama to ship here, but I was convinced I would need none of it. I simply wanted to serve out my time with Prince Korben because he is one of the only people I trust with my life. He has always looked beyond my mask, and I wanted nothing more than to serve my days with him in a place where I wouldn’t be tempted by women.
Yet, here I am in my room with the most interesting woman I’ve ever met. She’s barely dressed, and there’s a glisten of sweat and rain coming off her skin. I long to touch her more but feel as though I should ask before I grope and enjoy the feel of her against my fingertips. Ugh, but I have wanted so long to touch a woman without her being disgusted by me. She is nervous, though I am not sure why. I can taste a hint of fear mixed in with her arousal as she walks a slow methodic circle around my private lair.
Her eyes land on my blanketless bed, and I’m relieved I took the time to tug on my shorts once we stepped inside because I’m pretty sure the tip of my cock glistens with pre-cum. Her back is to me, and I cannot help but grow more excited because this is a vulnerable position. For men, it is difficult, if not impossible, to build trust while being in a room with a woman who is looking to mate. Sidyth women come up behind us quickly, and though I am strong, I am not sure how well I could handle one if she wanted pleasure. But here is York, comfortable enough to stare down upon my bed with her back to me. I try to memorize how she looks at this moment because I am not sure she will ever come alone to my room once she knows about my disease.
The skin on her back is smooth and creamy, save for a few dark spots reminding me of raised bruises. I wonder if they hurt, and itching to find out, I move closer. She feels me coming, and her shoulders bunch together but keeps her back turned. Is this an invitation to touch her? Or a warning to keep my distance?
I care not and take another step forward, counting and learning the pattern of those dark little dots on her back. I smell her arousal as I draw closer, and my tongue darts out without permission, longing to take in more.
I want everything she’s willing to give me.
How can she possibly be so comfortable? She’s in my room! Alone! With her back to me! Why is she not running, and why am I not chasing her away?
I can’t do it. No matter how much she’ll be better off without me, I would never chase her away.
She’s tan and soft. She’s brilliant. She has a smart mouth and a way with words that makes the other humans listen – even the more experienced ones like the tall blonde and the one with specks on her face.
“What do I taste like?” she asks, turning her head slightly.
I stumble as though struck and quickly gather my composure. If Dolan could see me now, he would surely laugh in my face.
You may be smart, Azan, but you are as dumb as a sprog when it comes to women.
I suppose he is not wrong.
I clear my throat and try to maintain some composure as York lifts her chin to meet my eyes. She looks embarrassed by her question but doesn’t take it back.
“I keep hearing you doing that thing with your tongue behind that.” She shifts again, looking nervous as she points a finger towards my mask, and then quickly lowers it. “I remember what it means, and I want to know what I taste like.”
My eyes widen. Does she really want to know? How can I possibly explain to her? Do I use my language or hers? Do I try to make it sound poetic, or keep it simple? Do I—
“Azan.” Her voice trickles into my ears, and I realize she’s almost directly beneath my chin. “You don’t have to think so hard when you answer me. I’m merely curious. Would you feel better if I told you what you smell like?” She flushes. “Humans can’t taste anything unless they lick it or put their mouth on it, but I can definitely tell you what you smell like to me.”
I swallow hard. My cock presses hard into her stomach, but if it bothers her, she’s doing a good job of not showing it. A few of my brothers move past my room, and they have the nerve to slow up. They’re pretending to be deep in conversation, but I am sure they are trying to see if I’m with a woman and if she wants to be here.
“What do I smell like?” I ask gruffly, wishing this answer would only be for me, but if I am going to keep York in my room for any amount of time, I must accept that my brothers are going to watch and make sure I am not going to hurt her. Most know why I wear the mask and probably don’t want a human woman to get hurt in my care. After all, that would mean one less possible mate for them.
I would never hurt her. I’d die before I’d let any harm come to her, even if I am the most harmful one in this lair.
“I know this sounds weird, but you smell like Christmas.”
“Kiss-mass?” The word sounds funny in my ears and even funnier coming out of my mouth.
She giggles. “Christmas.”
I nod. I want her to continue, if for nothing more than I want her mouth to move. Her lips parting and closing, repeatedly, I can see how different she is than me, but also how similar. Her lips are pink, and her tongue almost matches – but it is incredibly short compared to mine or any of my brothers’. My eyes lower to her damp top. Her breasts are not nearly as large as Korben’s Chosen, but they are larger than most Sidyth women’s. I long to touch them and see if they’re as soft as the rest of her, but I must resist.
This word. This Christmas makes her smile. She has pleasant memories of the Christmas. Perhaps this is the name of her mama or a sprog in her care? I swallow hard. Perhaps it is a male from her past? Would she be so cruel as to compare my scent to another male?
“It’s a holiday, Azan.” Her voice sounds tentative but still warm.
“Christmas,” I repeat, simply to show I can learn the word quickly. “A holiday. And this is an important day for you?”
Her eyes light up. “The most important.” She takes a seat on the bed, and the sight of it alone is enough to make my sack tighten in my shorts. She is so different than Sidyth women, but that does not make her any less attractive. Not wanting to get too much into her personal space, I drop down into a crouching position in front of her. I must learn about this holiday because it is so important to her.
“Tell me.”
“Oh. There’s not much to tell. I’m sure it’s not exciting to you.”
“Everything you say
will be exciting to me.”
She sucks in a small gasp, bringing more fantasies about giving her pleasure in my barren bed. She looks so good there, and I want to touch her so badly, that I must ball my hands in fists to compose myself. She is beautiful, and though I am not ugly, I am dangerous. If I am going to have any chance of winning her as my Chosen, I must be patient.
I don’t ever want to lose her.
I trace my fingers across the dirt floor as she speaks, trying to imagine what her skin would be like if I touched it again. She has allowed me to graze my fingertips against her, but now that we are in my lair, touching her simply because I want to seems a bit forward. There is no one here to stop me from doing anything inappropriate, and I want her to believe I have control of myself, even when Korben or Dolan aren’t watching me closely. York’s eyes light up as she tells me about Christmas, and the joy it brings her. She speaks of cold days and snow (fluffy white rain) upon the ground. She talks about funny hats in bright red and white, and a fat man named Claws. I wonder if this creature is part Entla or Derozdian. It would make sense. She talks about receiving gifts from family members and opening up packages in the morning after this Claws man drops them off. She talks about her family and delicately uncrosses and re-crosses her legs as she continues.
I lick my lips. She is aroused. Yet again.
This Christmas holiday must certainly mean a lot to her.
I close my eyes as she continues to tell me more about the strange holiday. Sidyths do not have anything like Christmas, but I love the idea of showering York with gifts and hats. And if she wants me to grow my nails out, so I resemble the Claws, I will certainly do it for her.
Listening to her speak, and watching her lips move with such excitement is one of the most arousing sights I have ever seen. Is it possible to have more than this with her? Will she one day tell others about me – her Chosen – with the same animated movements and dancing eyes as she does when she talks about Christmas? I can only hope so. If she would simply give me a chance, I am sure I could prove to her that I will make the best mate. I am smart like her, and despite my disease, I am attractive like her. We would make beautiful sprogs. My pale, scaled skin, and her incredible brown eyes. If she does not mind that I may not be able to taste her, I will make sure to please her in other ways besides with my mouth.
I want to give Christmas to her.
I want her to give herself to me.
After York asks if I’m bored, I dip my chin and lift it once, begging her to continue. I want to hear more. I want to know everything about what is important to her because I want to give her everything that makes her smile. And as much as I love watching her boss around and yell at the simpler human women, I love that there are the soft-spoken, giddy parts to her as well. She may be afraid of me, but not enough so to run. She finds me interesting. I taste it in the air. And though she is human, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted a Sidyth woman in my life. Suddenly, years of begging for attention, asking a woman to love me, promising them I will find ways to please them without my mouth seems silly.
I was never meant for any of them, and they were never meant for me.
The Chosen – my mate – sits on my bed before me. My mate has hair like sand and lips like fog rolling in after a storm. There is no one else who I’m attracted to. And while yes, I see the appeal of Prince Korben’s Chosen, that is only because I would never disrespect my prince’s choice in a mate. York is so different than Blythe, though. Where Korben’s Chosen is tall, York is short. Where Korben’s Chosen’s skin is like gessroot tea, York’s is like sparse clouds on a clear day. Where Korben’s Chosen has enormous breasts, I prefer York’s. Plus, York’s voice appeals to me more than any others. Her voice may be my favorite thing about her. It is still high pitched when she is excited but lower than most of the others women’s. I can tell when she is happy or overjoyed, nervous or aroused, simply when I hear the cracks or squeals.
I want her to speak to me and only me.
“That’s basically, Christmas,” she says suddenly. “Sorry if I bored you.”
“You could never bore me.” I smile, annoyed that there is no way she will see it behind the mask, but I hope she can at least see my eyes crinkle in the corners. It is one of the only ways others can see the happiness on my face.
York hums thoughtfully before a strange sound pierces the air.
“Dammit!” She clutches at her flat, exposed stomach, and shoots me an embarrassed expression. “I should have eaten something before we came back. Sorry, Azan, I should probably go back to the room—”
I shoot to my feet. “No.”
I don’t want her to go. Not yet. I want to hold on to this moment for a little while longer. I want her to sit on my bed, even if I can only observe her.
“No?”
“I will grab you something.” I try to smile a second time, but I am angered she will not be able to see it. “I know of a few foods humans like. I did some research before you all arrived.” I look at her nervously, resisting the urge to hold her down so she can never leave my side.
Consent.
“I could try something out for you,” I offer. “The ingredients would not be the same, but the thought would be there.”
“You can cook?” She seems shocked by this. Doesn’t she know Sidyth males prepare most of the food? “I didn’t know alien males could cook. I’ve had a few assignments where I was basically a live-in chef—”
“I will cook for you.” I can’t help the sound of pride in my voice. If she wants food, I will cook her anything. I will make food that will make York’s mouth water because it is better than anything she’s had at home. She will speak of my cooking the same way she speaks of Claws and his wrapped package. “Prince Korben has set up a place for food—”
“There’s a kitchen down here?” She seems excited by the idea, and though I am sure our prep area will be different than a human kitchen, I am too excited to let her down, and so I nod.
“Would you like to see?” I step towards the curtain of my room and pull it open. Turning back, I notice York still on the bed. I take a chance and hold out my hand towards her. My hands are safe. They will never hurt her. “Come with me.” I don’t want the others to hear. Otherwise, they will come and try to win York for themselves. It is a good time to head to the food preparation lair because most of the Sidyths do not eat for a few hours. I will have more time with York alone. The thought excites me.
That is until York slips her tiny hand within mine.
I never knew true excitement until this moment.
No one else can have her. I have Chosen. She belongs to me.
CHAPTER FOUR
York
I’m worried Azan thinks I talk too much, but I ramble sometimes when I’m excited. He’s usually silent; maybe he doesn’t like someone talking at him for hours on end, and that’s what it felt like when I told him about Christmas – hours. The way he stared at me when I told him about Santa. The way his eyes blazed with heat when I talked about my family, presents, Christmas trees, snow, sledding and spending time in the mountains with my parents when they were able to get off work. He probably doesn’t want to listen about my family life and holidays he doesn’t understand when he’s trapped on a planet where it’s always raining, and the only family member he sees is his brother.
But he did listen.
He nodded, and it wasn’t only to be polite.
Crouched in front of me, cock noticeably erect, he remained still as I spoke. He seemed to take everything in, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s saving this information for a later date.
I don’t want our time to end, but there’s only so much I can tell him about Christmas without getting into the nitty-gritty, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear every detail. Plus, I’m starving by the end, and unable to keep my stomach from audibly growling. Azan’s golden eyes widen and drop to my stomach, and I half expect him to escort me from his room.
But no. He’s tak
ing me to a kitchen, or something close to it. I’m not stupid enough to think where Sidyths prepare food is anything like what I remember from back home, but I am excited to see Azan cook.
Plus, he’s holding my hand.
His hand is huge. Oh my God, it’s calloused and masculine, and I feel downright little walking by his side as he leads us down the hall.
A man – a Sidyth male, no less – is about to cook me dinner.
He speaks thirty languages, and he can cook?
How has no one snapped up this amazing, beautiful creature?
My heart races at the idea of him cooking for me, something straight out of a book. He says he knows a little bit about human food and how to prepare it. I can only imagine what he’s going to do. On a side note, it’s also almost impossible to focus on food when Azan squeezes my hand more tightly as we move down the muddy halls, and one of his brothers’ steps in front of us.
“What are you doing now, Azan?” His bright yellow eyes narrow at me before flickering back up back to Azan’s.
Azan doesn’t answer at first, and from so close to him, I can’t quite get a good angle on what his eyes look like because he’s too tall.
“Azan,” the new Sidyth continues. “Tell me what you’re doing with this one before I tell Hujun you’re dragging women around without permission. If I’m not allowed to, then you shouldn’t—”
“This one has a name,” I snap, tired of being spoken over like a child because I’m not seven feet tall with a scaled dick between my legs. “And it’s York.” I pull my hand away from Azan’s and thrust it towards the stranger. He’s familiar looking enough; I remember him standing in the doorway of the Gathering Room, but even if I did know his name, I wouldn’t say it. I want this guy to know he’s of no importance to me. “Azan’s taking me down to the kitchen to make me some food. You wouldn’t want Korben or Hujun to find out one of us is going hungry?”
The Sidyth takes a step back, creating a small path for me to walk through. I duck under the stranger’s arm and thrust my hand back towards Azan because I feel more confident with his skin against mine.
