“Wait, what—ungh.” Before I can protest, he lifts me by my midsection so I’m hanging over his arm folded in half, my internal organs squishing under my own weight. “Wait, this is not—” He decides to “support” my neck this time, and now I’m choking as well. Squirming, I try to free my arms but they’re pinned by my sides by the arm wrapped around my middle. Wheezing, I try to cry out, but it comes out as only a hoarse whisper. “Stop!”
To my utter relief, the alien sets me down and starts chittering anxiously. Ignoring him, I roll onto my back, desperately gasping for air for the second time today. This place really is out to get me.
When I look at my friend again, he’s crouched low to the ground, whimpering, all of the spikes along his spine flattened. It’s like he’s trying to look as non-threatening as possible, and it’s so awkward it’s actually sweet.
“Okay, we’ll need to have a conversation first,” I tell him sternly. He’s definitely reacting to the tone of my voice because the words make him whimper again which, in turn, makes me feel like a dick. “I appreciate you wanting to carry me,” I continue in a softer tone, “but this is not how you do it. If you’re smart enough to use a rock to kill an alien scorpion, you should be able to learn things, right? I mean, you basically used a tool, which is a huge evolutionary thing. Then again, crows use tools too and they aren’t what I’d call evolved, so… Where was I? Oh, yes. Carrying.” I don’t know if I should be so cooperative when he wants to carry me away, but he’s clearly set on the idea, so I can at least make sure I don’t die during transport.
“Come here,” I urge him. He doesn’t understand, of course, curiously tilting his head at my come-hither gesture. Deciding to take charge of the situation, I crawl a little closer to him. The creature’s look turns suspicious, but he doesn’t react, not even when I slowly reach for him. When I wrap my hand around his wrist, he freezes, not even breathing. The only thing telling me he’s still alive is his eyes, blinking in sync. The front pair, then the side pair. A short pause, then the front pair again and the side pair again. It’s mesmerizing.
Reminding myself of my goal, I gently tug on his hand. “You can, um, touch me like this.” God, why did that sound dirty in my mind? What the fuck is wrong with me? “Under my legs.” I guide his arm under my knees, then have him wrap a second one around my upper body. “Good. Try it now.”
The alien stares at me wrapped in his arms, his expression indecipherable. He looks somewhat…hungry, but not for food. Or my filthy mind is just projecting, which is a much more reasonable explanation.
Slowly, he lifts me off the ground, holding me like I’m a bomb, ready to explode at the slightest jostling. When I don’t protest, because it’s actually nice not having to crawl over rocks andsharp twigs, he moves his other two arms around me, resettling me against his chest in a hold that’s comfortable for him. Since being held by four arms instead of two is more comfortable for me as well, I let him do his thing.
His skin is surprisingly warm, nothing like I’d expect from a lizard-like creature, and quite smooth. His scales are tiny and soft, easily moving under my finger when I experimentally touch his chest. Realizing I’m basically fondling someone who’s probably going to eat me later, I quickly draw my hand back. Even my weirdness has its limits. Most of the time.
Chapter 7
Jaime
Iwouldhavepreferredto stay near the crashed ship, but my alien keeper has a different opinion. Ignoring all my attempts to steer him upstream, he takes off straight into the jungle, and my already slim hopes of ever leaving this moon plummet.
Yes, I probably shouldn’t have been so passive about letting him carry me off, but what was I supposed to do? Kick his cock pouch and run? Ha ha ha. Being disabled sucks, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar. Besides, I doubt even a non-disabled person could have escaped. This alien is fast, strong,and decidedly determined to keep me. Even my pathetic attempt to crawl away angered him. Had I been able to run, he probably would have killed me on the spot. Hence, I’m letting myself be carried to god knows where.
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually. Once I showed him where and how to support me, the alien has been carefully cradling me in his arms in a four-armed bridal carry. Aaaand, that’s not a comparison I should be making. I’m not sure if death by alien cock is better or worse than death by alien claws and teeth. With my luck, I’m probably in for a combination of both.
“So, you from around here?” I ask, my mouth eager to fill the nervous silence between us. Around us, the jungle is anything but silent. As if aware that my new friend isn’t currently hunting, the other creatures of the forest don’t fall deathly silent upon his approach; they merely stay well out of his way.
There are more of those noisy dragon birds, other kinds of flying creatures, and I’m pretty sure I saw something resembling a monkey swinging from one tree branch to another. There are also bugs and reptiles and I don’t even want to know what else.
The place is teeming with both fauna and flora. Massive trees stretch their red and black canopies over our heads, protecting us from the sun. Creeping vines grow along the branches, dotted with amazingly colorful blossoms. There are thorny bushes, leafy bushes, bushes with odd, potato-like leaves, along with dozens of other kinds of bushes. Some are in bloom, some are laden with fruit. As we pass by, one snatches a flying reptile from the air with a snap of a branch and feeds it to the center of its trunk. Creepy, yes, but incredibly beautiful.
Taking in a deep breath, I let myself be grateful. I survived a spaceship crash. I haven’t drowned. I’m not injured. The gallons of water I swallowed during my struggle in the river haven’t made me violently sick. I’m safe, at least for now. I’m beinggently carried by something that could have bitten my head off but chose not to. I’m unsure if that’s a positive yet, but I’ll count it as one for now.
Not everything is positive, of course. I have no clue how and if I’m ever going to get back to my brother. My stomach is starting to remind me that the little I ate this morning ended up on the cockpit floor and the only thing sloshing around inside of it is river water. Other bodily functions are also vying for attention. All in all, though, I count myself lucky.
“I don’t think I introduced myself,” I tell my alien. He mostly ignores me, focused on observing the surrounding jungle, but he doesn’t seem to mind my talking either, which is good. I’m a big talker. “I’m Jaime. Hey.” Tapping on his chest gets his attention. “Jaime,” I repeat, pointing at myself. “Jaime.” He tilts his head to the side, probably confused by the weird creature in his arms. “Yeah, buddy, we’re both confused here. So, I’m Jaime.”
This time, when I say my name, the alien looks straight at me, making me think he perhaps understood me after all. Or he’s just getting annoyed with me. Since he makes no attempt at repeating my name, like any proper protagonist in a me-Tarzan-you-Jane scene should, I continue, “What about you? Do you have a name?”
I doubt it. The anxious chittering from when he thought he hurt me with his carrying attempt was probably the closest thing his kind can do to actual talking, and naming individuals requires abstract thinking I’m not sure my alien is capable of.
“I can’t keep calling you ‘the alien’ or ‘the creature’. Murder-chameleon isn’t a bad name, but since you haven’t murdered me yet, I’d avoid that one as well. You know, not to jinx it.” I still can’t imagine what such a creature could possibly want with me other than to eat me, but it looks like I’ll find out whether I want to or not, so I might as well stop worrying about it.
“You definitely need a name. Hmm, let’s see.” I tap my lips, nearly jumping a few seconds later when my alien does the same. But he doesn’t tap his own lips. He touches mine. Gently, without a trace of those deadly claws, he presses a fingertip to my mouth, holds it briefly, then pulls away, all while still supporting my weight with his other three arms.
He watches me expectantly. Am I supposed to touch his lips now? Eyeing his two rows of sharp teeth, I decide that’s a hard no. He might be all friendly and curious, but even a house cat will bite you if you touch it the wrong way. This guy would probably bite my entire hand off.
“A name,” I remind myself as I clear my throat, trying to ignore how his simple touch made me feel. “You need a name.” I should give him an animal name. That might help me stop thinking about him in inappropriate ways. Except he’s clearly not an animal. He might not be human-level intelligent or sentient—or whatever scientists call it—but he definitely isn’t an animal. I don’t know why I’m so certain of it, but I am.
“Not a dog name, then,” I murmur, more to myself than to him, though he can’t understand me anyway. “A human name. But what name?” I know so many names, but each is tied to a face from my past. Do I want to think about my PT instructor every time I see my alien? Or that hot nurse who always carried me to the bathroom instead of using a wheelchair? Or the annoying brat who bullied me in high school until Steven broke his cheekbone? Damn, this is difficult. Is this how people feel when naming their children?
Looking up at the alien’s face, I decide I can’t name him after anyone mean. He’s just too nice for that. He hasn’t tried to eat me even once. No, it must be a good name.
“Hmm, let’s see. I’ve met so many nice people over the years.” I really did. A few of the doctors I ran into were arrogant assholes but most were deeply caring people who truly wanted to helpothers. Same with nurses. The kids at school were…well, they were kids. Stupid and impressionable. Except— “How about Adam?” I never really got to know him, his family moved and he transferred to another school before we even had a proper conversation, but I always had a little crush on him. Okay, perhaps naming my alien after a boy I had a crush on isn’t the best idea. But now that the name is in my mind, it’s impossible to get it out, and all the others sound stupid. “Fine,” I sigh. “I guess you’ll be Adam from now on. Any protests?”
To no one’s surprise, there are none.
