Stolen By An Alien

by Amanda Milo

  And at that thought, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the creator, she wasn’t gravid. Although I’d felt fairly confident that the aliens hadn’t succeeded in seeding her… I hadn’t realized until this moment that a part of me had still been harboring worry.

  She was dismayed - not shocked - at the sight of her blood. Therefore, despite being entirely conjecture, true; I was going to conclude that she’d had (at least one) bleeding prior to this, and I held onto this hope as yet further proof of her age approaching full maturity. Although I’d heard of it happening to a Gryfala as young as six solars, I knew that was more an outlier, and this Gryfala was older than six, of that much I was sure.

  And lastly, I had no supplies for her to care for herself. Her kind used some sort of cup or something. Where would I even find the like? And her size… I shook my head. Task at hand. I quickly tugged out the rest of the napkins I’d stashed in my pockets and cautiously - gaze away to respect her insistence for a semblance of privacy - turned back to her and held them out. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her press one between her legs. Then she shimmied and rubbed her thighs a bit.

  Testing.

  Realization dawned for me; she had no garment to hold them up. I might have limited knowledge of Gryfala, but I did have one sister and the vaguest idea of what was needed for this to work, and I could assume all females’ attire was similar. I sighed. Angie needed better than I could provide, and she needed it fast.

  When she was as ready as she could be, I took my turn using the corner of the stall and by the time I got back to her she was shivering so hard her teeth were clacking together. I wrapped her up and brought armfuls of shavings over us. She sneezed.

  “Blessings.” I said on reflex and mounded more shavings.

  She sneezed again. And again.

  I froze. Was she developing an allergy to our main source of insulation against the deadly chill? Or was this an imminent symptom of some sort of sickness that she’d caught in the germfilled auction streets? “Tevek!”

  “Theengs just are-ent go-eng eazy, are they?” she murmured to me with a sad smile.

  Worried for her, I licked her nose.

  “Ewwww, yick!” she screeched. “Whuthe-!”

  I licked her nose again.

  “Sthop thaaaht!” she all but shouted. Her hand clapped over the bridge of my nose, stalling me. But she didn’t sneeze.

  “It is working.” I told her, trying not to be smug.

  I was fairly certain she might have understood me, because she gave me this half incredulous, half disgusted look.

  Then she burst into laughter. “Yur crayzee!”

  Although her teeth stopped chattering, from time to time she’d still shiver, and her skin was barely warm. I feared her freezing to death right here in my arms this night. I had to admit; I wasn’t much better off. I wished desperately that I bore a pelt to keep the both of us warm in. My scales warmed fine with a source of sunlight ...which we happened to be fresh out of at the moment. I could start a fire …if we wanted to lie on the ground, out in the open where anyone could overtake us without warning and all the while with the wind biting at us.

  We couldn’t wait any longer. This situation was too dire, we were too desperate. Unless or until my brothers returned for us with a shuttle, I resolved to earn the funds for a ship. Or at least passage on a flight home if we couldn’t afford a whole ship. Somehow. I could fight - I was only lacking a ring, a crowd, and an opponent. I’d always had an agent that dealt with most of the business side of setup. They knew all the contacts, knew who and how to deal; it was just how the industry worked. If I managed to find an agent, get a match - where could I stow Angie while I fought?

  What if I lost?

  No! I couldn’t think of that. I had to win. I had to get us home. To her home. I knew I couldn’t take her to my humble little ground dwelling.

  Although, I mused as I rubbed her barren wing spots, it wasn’t like she could glide about the highcliffs of her land either. Her life couldn’t have been easy. Hobs might be solicitous of every female but Gryfalas weren’t known for their altruism to other Gryfala. In fact, just the opposite. Their competitive drive towards each other was legendary. Anything that made them ‘less’ put them at at instant disadvantage. Her kind were aggressively ambitious. It was blamed on instinct. Keep rivals away at all costs - if there had ever been enough Gryfala to create competition. As if a hob could be tempted away from his female – it was so ludicrous it was laughable. Hobs outnumbered Gryfala by hundreds. They would never risk endangering their position; a Gryfala would never take the hob back that dared to stray, and if another had managed to tempt him, how long would her interest really last with a new toy after she’d won? I sneered. Gryfala were pampered, privileged, spoiled.

  At that thought, I hugged my Angie tighter. She wasn’t cruel. And pampered? Privileged? She was as far from a Gryfala’s due as could be. What a shock this all must be for her.

  Feeling deep empathy, I dragged my temple slowly across her cheek.

  In fact, she was incredibly resilient considering all that had happened to her, and what she must have been used to before she was taken. And as for her wingless state; I did not consider my princess deformed. Not like the other Gryfala surely would.

  But my Angie? She was absolutely perfect. I inhaled her scent to comfort myself.

  Nuzzled her crownfur. And although I had never seen the appeal of her kind before, I was fully aware now. It made sense. Otherwise hobs would go looking for other species in their desperation to claim a female, any female, due to their kind being so rare. But the allure of my Angie… I knew in my hearts I was irrevocably in this Gryfala’s service.

  Whether she ever extended an official declaration ceremony to me or not.

  She was mine.

  No!

  I was hers.

  I could be appeased with that thought.

  I had to be.

  13

  AROKH

  Suns passed. It became apparent that this part of the world was not flush with gladiator rings like the planets I was used to touring, therefore, I’d yet to track down someone to represent me in a fight. I resorted to gathering wagers on arm wrestling matches, keeping Angie gripped tightly and safely on my lap. Every damned male wanted to wager for her. Ridiculous. As if I’d ever leave her safety to a game of chance. Nothing came close to her worth. I almost laughed in the first male’s face. It was incredibly less and less humorous each time it happened though, and I felt the threat like acid on my scales. I was only one male after all. To protect her I needed the focus off of her and onto the game.

  I took to covering her in the blanket, even being careful to tuck in her crownfur so she was less available for their ogling. She sensed my tension, and always stayed still. And quiet. I missed the sound of her musical voice. I had to take her aside and pet her and tell her not to be afraid, because I could smell it through the blanket and I noticed whenever the others were starting to also. She may not have understood my words, but she did relax enough that I returned to the table and commenced with the match. Each time I was wrestling, she would grip onto my tensed body as I threw everything I had into pinning my opponent. I could not lose. I feared the winner would demand more than just the money owed. I knew in my hearts that’s what would happen. And if I had measured them up wrong and couldn’t best them in an arm tussle? I would never win in a fight against them and their companions if they challenged me for Angie.

  Match won, we’d gather the winning purse and swiftly exit out the kitchen door of the alehall or tavern. I was taking no chances that we’d be jumped leaving from the front. We hopped establishments, me carrying her so we could make the next destination swiftly, and, Creator willing – were not followed. We won enough that I could afford to care for her bleeding needs until they were done, and eventually there was enough winnings for a night at an inn with hot water for her to bathe. No bathing tub; just a slightly rusted bucket and a rag, but Angie made noises
like it was heaven in a pail. When we were done cleaning up, I could wait no longer; I dragged her to the bed.

  I’d done an admirable job controlling myself while she was bathing, but I knew just the fact that I had to wrestle myself at all was not exactly a healthy sign.

  She had scrubbed herself nearly a different color; cleaned off all the grime from days of travel, washed off dirt, and sweat…

  And me.

  She smelled like fake flowers and imitation sunshine and whatever other things they manufactured into soap…

  Not like me.

  She didn’t carry my scent at all now.

  It was like she was a brightly painted canvas that had no signature in the corner, it was like she was waiting for the male that would stake a claim - right now, she had no barrier to give a male pause; there was no hint that she belonged to any male at all.

  Not to me.

  And it triggered a terrible urge in me.

  I couldn’t stifle it any longer. I held her down and licked her.

  At first, she squealed, and bucked, and shrieked - then she pulled my ears, she used her fists on my shoulders, and chest - but it was when she grabbed my horns that I completely lost my mind.

  Snarling, my fingers digging hard into soft flesh - yet ever mindful to keep my claws from pricking - I dragged my tongue over her harder - sweeping, steady laps from her forehead down to her throat. And when her clothing got in the way? I nudged my nose under it, reaching all the skin I could, and when satisfied, I moved to lick along the part of her belly that was now exposed - spending extra time on that odd scar she had there - it was like a hole into her stomach, and it disturbed me to think of what could cause such a wound. As she tried to curl up, she wheezed a laugh, seemingly involuntary, and I used my mouth to show her she was beautiful despite this. In fact, the longer I spent there, the more it started to look sort of… cute. I rubbed my temple over the spot to further scent mark her. The substance my scales released there would cling more firmly than even my saliva, after all.

  When I reached the band of her skirt though, I hesitated.

  She froze.

  I made a split click decision and jerked up one of her legs. I quickly learned that I needed to cup her feet in my hand in order to stop her from connecting when she kicked at me - but by the time I licked her from her toes down to the knee of her first leg, her initial indignation over scent marking had changed to writhing…

  And what sounded like… begging.

  She was no longer trying to pry me off, or kick at me.

  Instead, she was repeating the only word that would mean anything to me in this moment.

  “Arokh!”

  There were other words too. They seemed to me to be encouraging.

  I finished with her other leg, also stopping at the knee, before carefully setting it back on the bed.

  She didn’t move.

  Still positioned half off to her side, I turned to fully face her.

  Truthfully, what had started as a shameful compulsion had morphed into a desperate need.

  I wasn’t good at this submissive persona. I wanted to take my female the Rakhii way.

  But she wasn’t Rakhii.

  And I had to let her lead. I knew this.

  Commanding willpower that I wasn’t sure I still possessed I sank down beside her in the bed. I buried my nose in her hair, languidly making my way to her neck where her scent was sweetest; Angie, wearing me.

  I threw my arm around her, starting to roll her ontop me, thinking I’d angle my horns over the side of the bed.

  But she grabbed onto me, “No! Dohn’t Stohp noww.”

  She tugged me, and although her movements were ineffective for repositioning my considerable mass, her nudges let me know she wanted me over her.

  And the thought of covering her this way excited me.

  I had vowed to follow her commanding of me if she ever made another overture.

  Here was my chance to redeem myself.

  And oh, how I wanted to be redeemed.

  Yet, I wasn’t sure how I could do this without flattening her. I braced my hands on either side of her… but then I wouldn’t be able to pet her.

  This was terrible. I sat back on my knees to the sound of her frustrated groan.

  I rubbed my thumb over her lower lip. “Your lack of patience would be deplorable if you weren’t a Gryfala.” One side of my mouth curled up as I teased her.

  Her eyes narrowed. And then she nipped my thumb.

  I sucked in a breath, then with the hand wrapped around her thigh, I yanked.

  Her body slid to me, the backs of her thighs bumping over the tops of mine.

  The hob’s advice replayed in my head. Though I hadn’t done this before, I had an idea of what my goal was. And a fairly imaginative plan for how to achieve it. I dipped my head and bent down, down down…

  …down

  …and my horn bounced off of something. My head came up only to see her hands blocking her face. I could have stabbed her! To say that I’d have to be more careful was an understatement. I tried to swallow a snarl of frustration. I could move to her side like I’d been when I marked her, but then I wouldn’t be able to see her face. I wanted - I needed - to watch her reactions. As I looked down at her, her thighs spread enough to tantalize, I felt pressure on a horn and looked to see that she’d wrapped her hand around one. She gave me an encouraging smile. My mind flashed back to our first night together, when she’d been standing.

  I gave an excited call, which made her jump. I stroked her leg quickly to reassure her before grabbing her hips and lifting her up. She let me set her to standing, and I dropped to my knees beside the bed before reaching up and setting her hands on my horns. Then I patted my shoulder.

  Her lips parted before she grinned.

  When her leg slid into place, I inhaled deeply and growled, which made her give a startled laugh. When I stretched my tongue to lap at her, out of my peripheral I saw the skin on her stomach flutter. The corners of my mouth curled up as I felt the stretch in my throat, reaching, dragging my tongue slowly until it hit her clit and she moaned.

  I’d never felt one before. Certainly never tasted a female. I had read a little, heard Rakhii talk. But I didn’t expect her to feel like… sort of like the ripest, most succulent fruit – I held one of her lips between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, pressing it, laving it. And the taste. She was the most delectable fruit ever created. I moved so I could get more of her, so I could feel more of her in my mouth, against my lips. Soft, so soft, and I had to fight the urge to bite down on her flesh here. The feel of her against my lips as I sucked – Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrwl. My grip on her hips went tighter.

  My tongue felt so strange. It had been doing this off and on for days, but now… the next drag of my tongue over her softness revealed why, reminded me of the conversation with the Hob. Ahhh. Nice.

  I rolled my eyes upward and felt a spear of pleasure when our gazes connected - hers rapturous.

  In response to what I could do for her.

  Me.

  No other male.

  “Yore tohngue – ahhhh!” She moaned and almost melted on top of me.

  “Sweehearts, I know,” I murmured before going back for another slow lap, feeling the bumps press and caress her skin, increasing the sensations nearly to the point of overload, apparently for both of us.

  A yank on my horns had the bridge of my nose bumping into her mound. She gave a high keening moan. Another yank. I pulled back, panting.

  “Arokh! Nowww.” She tried to slide her leg off but I slid my hand to cup under her thigh and shoved it back. My throat vibrated with my growl as I locked eyes with her, and moved my mouth back between her legs, where she tasted the sweetest.

  She huffed. “Fiiine, fiiiiiine.” She grumbled a little more before conceding and bracing on my horns again. “But- I-neeeed-I’m gohing to…” she rocked then, her clit brushing over my nose. Then again. Again.

  Oh. I was beginning to realize what ex
actly she needed now. I wish I had paid more attention when I had the materials at hand to learn what a Gryfala would like. But I needed to pay attention now, and she could teach me.

  I moved so that my tongue was hovering over her clit. I added pressure, pressing it hard against her and she almost fell on my face.

  “Yesssssss, like that!”

  She began to move her hips, circling, finding a pattern that felt good to her, a rhythm, and instead of feasting on her I just let her take from me. Whatever she needed, I wanted to give to her.

  My hands roved along her hip. The curve of her rump. I squeezed one plump cheek and grinned as she squeaked and pumped her hips harder, until I felt wetness at my chin and her body ground down against my mouth.

  The taste flooding over my tongue now! Even sweeter. Tangier. Without thinking, I grabbed her by the hips and flung her backward.

  Breathing ragged, she looked stunned as I lunged over her on the bed. And I realized how rough I’d just been. I began to sit back on my haunches, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be-“

  Her hands shot out, grabbing my ears, the long pointed tips crushed flat in her fists. “Dohn’t stohp!”

  I looked into her eyes, and took in her expression, then quickly assessed her body language. Carefully, I laid my hand between her legs where I’d just found my new very favorite flavor. Of all my lifespan.

  “Yes?” I asked, wanting to make certain.

  “Zrekkk,” she tried to repeat, her attempt in my language commendable, her lips pulling back and she attempted to imitate the click.

  I grinned down at her.

  She yanked my ears. “Nowww!”

  “At your service, princess,” I breathed and I followed where she tugged until she was tasting herself from my lips. Until she was moaning into my mouth.