Oh, yes. I would like that very much. I just wish I knew how to communicate it, to make words like Jaime does. My maw used to make words, I think. I remember making words, but the red fog took over the word-making part of my mind and, as weak as it has been lately, it still won’t let me make words. Speak. That’s what it’s called.
Shifting Jaime in my arms, I rub my temples, my head throbbing. It’s too much at once, and it makes me miss the simpler days. Jaime’s hands pull mine away, replacing them as he slowly traces circles around my temples with his fingers. “Shh,” he hums. “It’s okay. Headache? You haven’t drunk anything since we met. We both need to get some water. Can you find it?”
Water. Right. Even while dazed, I’ve been walking in the right direction, and soon we come across a tiny lake, half hidden under the roots of a huge twistroot tree. Several thin streams run into the lake, and one larger stream flows out, disappearing between the trees.
“Oh, wow.” Jaime looks around curiously, his hands falling from my temples. “Did you actually understand me when I said I needed water or were we headed here all along? This is great! I mean, it would be safer if I had fire and something to boil water in, but since that doesn’t seem to be an option here, I’ll just drink from this. It seems clean enough. Can you set me down on that root over there?”
He points to a protruding root by the waterline and then down, which I’ve come to understand means he wants to be set down. After I help him position his legs so that he’s stable, I cup waterin my hands and drink deeply. It tastes clean, so I scoop up more for Jaime, turning to see him balance precariously on his root as he tries to reach the water. Silently, I offer him my hands to drink from, but he turns his head from side to side.
“No, thanks. I really appreciate it, but I need to do at least something myself.”
His rejection stings, but the sweet tone of his words tells me he doesn’t mean harm, so I don’t dwell on it.
Holding the root with one hand, Jaime manages to scoop a little water with the other, grinning as he brings the drops to his mouth. “Ha! See? I can do it myself.” Then he reaches down again, his hand slips, and he plunges head-first into the water. It’s not deep, but I immediately lunge forward to fish him out. His legs don’t work, and I didn’t see any gills on him, so he wouldn’t last long in the water.
As I hold him, both of us wet, he coughs up some water, then lets out short, sharp barks. Laughter, something in me suggests. He’s laughing.
“Fuck,” he says. “I guess we now know why they say pride before fall and all that jazz. I don’t know why I thought I could do anything on my own out here.” His words turn bitter. “I really am useless.”
I don’t like the way his barks stop and his face loses the expression I came to associate with happiness. He looks sad now. Because he couldn’t reach the water? I could have given it to him, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to reach it himself, but his body failed him. That’s what makes him sad. I surprise myself with such a complex thought, but deep down, I know I’m right. I also know that sitting him back on the root and bringing him water as if he’s a helpless youngling will only make him sadder. That’s another thought from beyond the fog. What can I do, though?
The answer is simple. We’re already in the water. It’s too shallow here for him to reach, and we’ve disturbed the mud so the water isn’t clear anymore, but all it takes is wading a little farther. The lake is small, and even in the deepest part the water only reaches my waist, but when I crouch and sink the lower half of Jaime’s body into the water, he can easily reach it.
When I stop moving, Jaime slowly unhooks his arms from behind my neck, where he put them the moment I moved into deeper water. “Don’t drop me,” he says quietly. “I can’t swim. But you already know that, otherwise you wouldn’t have jumped in to rescue me earlier. What are we doing?”
Shifting to hold him in three arms, I scoop up water into my palm and drink from it. Expression brightening, Jaime looks at me, then at the water around us. “You know, this definitely isn’t the most hygienic way to drink.” He hesitates, his hands still hovering around my neck, ready to hold himself up as if I would ever let go of him. Eventually getting comfortable, he drinks deeply before exhaling. “I'm probably going to get sick from this but, damn, it feels good.”
Once he’s done drinking, he pours water over his head fur, grumbling as he tries to run his fingers through it. “Yep, this is hopeless. I wonder if that root gel would work on it. I’ll have to try later. Thank you for doing this for me, Adam.”
My heart flutters when he says my name and looks up at me with tenderness in his eyes. Brazenly, I run my fingers down the side of his face, marveling at the strange feel of his scaleless skin and the scratchiness of his chin fur. When he doesn’t stop me, I continue down his neck, stopping at a spot where his blood pounds beneath his skin.
With a sigh, Jaime closes his eyes and leans into my touch. “I really like you, Adam. Much more than I should, but screw that. I won’t survive long here, so…carpe diem.”
Chapter 13
Jaime
Floatinginaglowinglake in the middle of a breathtaking jungle with my breathtakingly beautiful alien is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, almost making the whole spaceship crash business worth it. Guilt spikes as I remember Pon. I didn’t know him well, but I still can’t help feeling guilty for being happy here with Adam when he died trying to land the ship safely. Pon saved my life, it cost him his, and I don’t know how to deal with that. Probably not by kissing an alien with a big maw full of sharp teeth, although that’s exactly what I want right now.
Should I?
Even with Adam’s help, there’s no way I’ll survive for long. I’m probably getting sick already just from the water I just drank. There’s no way I can survive long-term on unfiltered, unsterilized water. There will also be infections, diseases, and injuries from the many things out here that are trying to kill me. Hell, even the smallest bug bite can be deadly if the wrong bug bites me or the wrong bacteria gets into the wound. I have a month, maybe two, and that’s only if Adam doesn’t get sick of saving me and leave me for the wolves. Or eats me first. At this point, I’m kind of rooting for him over the other creatures living here, because he’s earned it.
My point is, shouldn’t I enjoy the short time I have left? If I want to kiss my alien, I should be able to do it without guilt, right? And if I want to touch him, or want him to touch me, there’s nothing wrong with that, either. As long as he agrees to it, which he looks like he would. It wouldn’t exactly be verbal consent in this case, but if he’s intelligent enough to wait for my permission to come, he’s intelligent enough to give consent.
Damn, I’m just making excuses for myself, aren’t I?
“We should probably get out of the water,” I say with a sigh, accompanying my words with a gesture toward the ground. I need some time to think before I do something stupid, like throwing myself at Adam and kissing him. Does his kind even kiss? He has lips, they’re just quite slim and narrow, and with all the teeth…
I’ll need to move carefully so he doesn’t think I want to bite him. I mean, I don’t mind a little love bite here and there, but with those razor-sharp teeth, I’d better be careful about encouraging it. I don’t think Adam would hurt me on purpose, but if he gets lost in the throes of passion…
Well, an actual love bite wouldn’t be a bad way to go. I’d just prefer for my first sexual experience with an alien to end with me alive. And no, I’m not being too picky.
Adam wades back to dry ground and sets me down before returning to water and drinking deeply. Good. He looked like he really needed it earlier. I’m starting to get proficient at reading his expressions, and he definitely seemed to be in pain on the way here. The way he was rubbing his temples made it obvious. How long has he gone without water? The worms were somewhat mushy, and there was definitely some water inside them, but it couldn’t have been enough for either of us. We’ll need to make more frequent water stops from now on. Fortunately, there seems to be enough water to go around in the jungle, especially since Adam is able to sense it, probably by smell, if the way he’d been sniffing the air on the way here is any indication.
As I squirm uncomfortably in my wet jumpsuit, I realize I should have taken it off before getting anywhere near the water. It’s not cold, not by a long shot, but without the sun and with the ever-present humidity, even the futuristic alien fabric will take a while to dry. I should probably take it off. Even if I won’t be walking, I’ll be in for some serious chafing if I keep it on, especially on my legs, where I won’t feel it happening and could end up with bleeding marks before I notice something is amiss. And open wounds in a humid, unsanitary environment are a very bad thing. Or I’m just making excuses to let Adam carry me naked. Sue me.
Taking off the top part of the jumpsuit is easy, but squirming out of the bottom isn’t. When Adam notices me struggling, he joins me on the dry ground but doesn’t immediately reach out to help like he did before. He waits instead, his hands extended in a clear offer of help, but he doesn’t move until I ask for it. He musthave realized that I want to do some things on my own, that I don’t want to be treated as completely helpless. That’s…
