I fumble with the leather cords at his waist, fingers clumsy with urgency. He helps me without breaking the kiss, hands steady where mine are not. The garment stays up, caught by whatever’s making that insistent bulge.
His skin is warm, almost fevered, the raised purple stripes like suede ridges beneath my exploring fingers. And I swear they glow in a pulsating rhythm.
When I trace one down his chest, he shudders hard enough that I feel it echo low in my belly.
Crat'ax pulls back just far enough to look at me. “Yes?”
“Yes,” I say, breathless. “Now.”
Relief flashes across his face—raw and unguarded—followed by something darker, barely contained. He lowers me slowly until my feet touch the planks again, as if giving me one last chance to step away.
I don’t.
I open my alien jumpsuit in a way I’ve never tried before, splitting it along both sides so the front falls forward and the back slips down behind me. Cool night air washes over my skin, raising goosebumps, but his hands follow immediately. They are large and warm, smoothing over every newly bared curve like he’s committing me to memory.
I stand almost naked before him in the moonlight, heart hammering, utterly exposed and somehow unafraid.
Crat'ax looks at me like I’m something sacred.
He sinks to one knee, bringing himself nearly eye level with me, and presses his forehead to my chest. His breath fans over my skin in warm gusts.
“You are so small,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “And yet you undo me.”
I thread my fingers into his unruly hair and tug gently. “Now I want to see you.”
He rises, towering again, and lets the loincloth fall.
For a moment, I forget how to breathe.
His body is alien in a way that feels intentional, almost artful—powerful, unmistakably made for sensation. Surprise flares through me, chased immediately by heat. He is more alien than I thought.
Between his powerful thighs, two cocks rise in stark, breathtaking contrast. The larger one is thick and ridged, dark with swirling bands of deep violet that I swear pulse faintly in time with his heartbeat, its surface textured with soft, spiraling ridges and a slight taper toward the blunt, flared head that glistens with a natural sheen of arousal.
Below it, the second cock is noticeably smaller, sleeker, almost velvety in appearance, striped with the same violet whorls. Its length curves gently upward and its tip is slightly broader and softer, clearly designed to nestle against sensitive flesh and stroke without overwhelming.
“That’s… a lot,” I manage.
“I will be careful,” he growls, and the promise in his voice makes my toes curl.
I reach for him, hesitant at first, then surer. He pulses against my palm, hot and alive, reacting to every movement like he’s wired directly to my touch. His breath stutters when I stroke upward, the response immediate and visceral. His stripes glow brighter in the dark.
“Ohh…”
I slide the alien panties down to my feet. “Show me.”
He takes his time with me, as if time itself has suddenly become generous. His eyes move over my body openly, without shame or hurry, lingering on curves and planes like he’s trying to understand how I’m shaped, how I exist.
His hands follow more hesitantly, broad palms warm as they slide over my shoulders, down my arms, across my ribs. Sometimes his touch is uncertain. His thumb brushes somewhere unexpected, his grip a little too careful. But even that makes me smile. Most of the time he gets it exactly right.
A slow pass of his fingers along my waist sends a ripple of sensation through me. The weight of his gaze on my breasts makes my skin prickle as if he’s touching me without contact. I shiver, delight curling low and warm, and the reaction only deepens his fascination.
“Marvellous,” he whispers. He looks awestruck, like the simple fact of my body has altered the world for him. Being seen like this, studied and treasured, makes me feel luminous, as if every place his attention rests comes alive under his hands.
He lifts me again, cradling me against his chest as if I weigh nothing, and carries me to the wide sleeping pallet by the wall. The furs are soft beneath me, smelling faintly of smoke and sea, grounding me even as my pulse races. He follows, bracing himself above me, forearms thick and steady.
I part my legs without thinking, thighs trembling as they fall open. The air between us feels charged, heavy with anticipation and the faint metallic-sweet scent that clings to his skin.
Crat'ax settles between them, the broad heat of his hips pressing mine down into the soft bedding. His larger cock nudges againstmy entrance, slick with his own arousal and the slickness he’s already coaxed from me with fingers and tongue. The smaller one, softer and curved, brushes higher, the velvety tip grazing my clit in a way that makes my hips jerk before I can stop them.
