He opened the door and led us inside. He shut the door behind us, latching it with a flick of his wrist, and then turned to face me. For a second, we just stood there, the silence stretching. I didn’t know what to do, so I simply stayed there, my hand still in his. He let go first, going over to the table and pulling out the chair I’d sat in earlier.
I reached for him, meaning to touch his arm as a thank you, but I’d apparently lit things up again for him as he caught my hand and brought it to his mouth. He pressed my fingers to his lips, lips that split in the middle like a cat’s, revealing a brief flash of white teeth, and then released it, almost shy.
My heart beat out a strange, uneven rhythm. I realized that what I desired was to be wanted like this, even if it was by an alien cat with a warrior’s body and social skills that would get him arrested back on Earth. I closed my eyes and breathed him in, the musk of his damp fur and the sulfur of the water and something else that reminded me of cedar smoke and earth after rain. I ignored the twinges in my still tender arm as my hands found his shoulders, wide and solid and so alive it was dizzying.
He let go, finally, and busied himself lighting a small lamp. The space filled with a golden glow, chasing the shadows to the far corners. I sank onto the chair, knees shaking, trying to figure out what the hell my life had become. I could feel the charge in the air, the way every movement between us mattered. My palms were sweaty, my breathing shallow, and there was a hot, fizzy feeling in my chest that told me: this is happening, and you want it to.
“Rah-bee?” he asked me, his tone laced with concern as he knelt beside me now, eyes searching my face.
A voice in the back of my head told me I should be worried, that I should be questioning my judgment, but the louder voice, the one that had survived a crash, abduction, and near death on an alien world, told me to lean in, to see what happened next.
So I did. He drew back and made the chuffing sound again, but softer this time. He pressed his nose to my temple, and I felt the warmth of him seep into my skin. Then he picked me up, actually picked me up, princess-style, my bad arm on the outside, and carried me the last few feet to the door I was sure led to his bedroom. It was kind of mortifying, but also…not. It almost felt, well, tender. His arms were strong, and his fur so soft that I just sank into him, letting my head rest on his collarbone. My body melted, all tension gone, replaced by that all-consuming sense of safety once more.
Inside, he deposited me gently onto the sleeping mat, then hovered over me, watching for any sign of distress. Satisfied that I wasn’t dying and he hadn’t jostled my arm too much, he busied himself fetching blankets and tucking me in. I watched him from the mat, wondering what he thought of all this. Did he see me as a stray animal, a pet, a project to be fixed up? Or did he want me, really want me, the way I was starting to want him? I hadn’t misinterpreted his kisses and the way he’d looked and touched me, surely.
He turned and caught me staring. For a moment, the air charged between us, and I felt the old panic rise. Yep, what if I’d definitely misunderstood everything? What if, to him, this was just caretaking, and I was reading all the signals wrong? Maybe they kissed their friends and family like that all the time, and were just super touchy feely?
But then he crossed the room in two long strides, knelt beside me, and set his hand, warm, firm, and steady, on my chest. His tail draped over my thigh, his face inches from mine. He held my gaze, unblinking, and for the first time, I saw the vulnerability there, the question easy to read: was this okay?
I answered the only way I could. I reached up, touched his cheek, and let him nuzzle into my hand. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might break through my ribs, but I didn’t pull away. He made a happy little chirr, a sound so incongruous I almost laughed. Then he leaned down, lips pressing to the corner of my mouth - a kiss, if you could call it that, but also a promise.
He pulled back, eyes bright. I smiled, shaky, and he smiled too, showing all his teeth. Then he tucked the blankets around me, curled himself at my side, and let out a purr so loud it filled the room. Yeah, okay, I wasn’t mistaken. I was overthinking it was all. I lay there, staring at the flicker of torchlight on the ceiling, and realized that whatever else happened, I wasn’t alone in a way that I hadn’t been for a long time, even before the abduction. The last thing I saw before sleep claimed me was Gree-Gree’s hand on my chest, steady and sure, and the possessive look on his face that said, “You’re mine, and I’ll never let you go.”
And the wild part was, I wanted that, too.
15
ROBBIE
To my surprise, I’d fallen asleep quickly and only woken up when I felt Gree-Gree rise. Sometime after I’d fallen asleep, he’d pulled a set of blankets over me. I fingered the material, which felt as if they’d been knitted from some sort of soft wool. I wondered what kind of animal they'd gotten that from, and where they kept them. Unfortunately, I had no way of asking. Just as that thought crossed my mind, something else screamed for my attention - my bladder. I tossed off the blankets and stood, glad that the voluminous shirt hid my raging morning wood.
Gree-Gree must have heard me moving about as he poked his head through the door. “Hrakuk Rah-bee. Shagrah norgraah.”
I gave him a tiny little wave. “Um, good morning to you too,” I said, guessing at what he could be trying to tell me. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, pretended to grab my dick, and made a sort of water noise. “Where can I, ah, make water?”
He understood my gestures well enough, it seemed, as he pointed me to what I’d thought was an empty plant pot, which could only be a chamber pot. I walked a few steps over to it and sure enough, there was some yellow looking water that certainly smelled like piss. I mentally smacked myself. He lived in a stone cottage inside a hollow fucking mountain, so why would he have a plant pot?
“Thanks,” I said, and lifted the shirt, bunching it under my chin, which I bent down in an effort to hold it out of the way. Then, with my good arm, I took hold of my dick and carefully aimed. “Yes!” I crowed softly to myself, pleased beyond measure to not have gotten any on my borrowed clothes.
Gree-Gree had left, and I sniffed the air, smelling something cooking. My stomach growled angrily, and I left the half full chamber pot for Gree-Gree to deal with later since I hadn’t a freaking clue where it should be emptied..
Leaving the bedroom, I edged into the kitchen where I found him stirring a pot. On the table sat two mugs of that drink he’d called… cha kah? That had been it, I think. Some sort of tea, anyway. I took the same seat I’d had before and wished heartily for something to clean my hands with. I mentally recoiled, remembering the pot had been used before me. Had he washed his hands before cooking?
Gree-Gree rumbled something softly and stopped stirring, taking the lid off of a shallow lidded bowl on the shelf. He took out a damp square of cloth not unlike what we’d used to bathe ourselves with, and as he handed it to me, his gaze flicking to my hands before then mimed wiping them with it, I understood I’d just been handed the alien equivalent of a wet wipe.
“Thanks, big guy,” I said brightly, quickly cleaning my hands. He pointed at the basket that still held our towels and clothes from our bath the evening before, though now I saw another wet wipe sat on top of them. Yep, he’d washed his hands, a fact that greatly relieved me. I wanted to do a lot of things with Gree-Gree, but getting sick from his toileting habits was not one of them. I placed my used wipe in the basket and retook my seat in time to see him crack an egg and stir it into the liquid in the pot. A few moments later, he ladled the results into two earthenware bowls and brought them over to the table.
I stared down at it. It looked kind of like the soup my mom used to order for us at the Chinese restaurant. only without the bits of green onion in it. He lifted his bowl and began to drink from it, and now I understood why he hadn’t provided any spoons. Okay. I could do that. Or maybe not, I decided, placing the bowl back down with a mild hiss as pain shot through my shoulder and down my arm. Yep, my arm had been feeling better up to this point, but now it was telling me off.
“Rah-bee!” Gree-Gree was looking at me with an expression of worried dismay.
”It’s okay, just shouldn’t have raised my arm like that,” I tried to reassure him, blinking my eyes to process that dull throb that even now was easing back down to a tolerable level.
Gree-Gree pushed his chair back and stood up, taking my bowl.
I started to protest, only it was quickly apparent he’d only taken it to change how it was presented to me for consumption. A handled mug, and I was ready to drink my soup one handed.
“Thank you!” I lifted it in my good hand and took a cautious sip after blowing across it several times. It was the same broth he’d fed me the day before, only seasoned this time with a bit of salt and something else that gave it a richer flavor. The bits of egg were, well, eggy but still, it could really use a bit of salt in my opinion. I drank it all down as it cooled, followed by the tea.
