My heart flutters as I let my head fall back on what seems to be the safest place in the world right now – Ravok’s chest. His even breaths lull my worries, his rhythmic heartbeat spills a melody as if whispering a promise of protection. I can’t help but feel secure in the steel-like arms of my alien companion.
I’m biting back a grin at the fact that Ravok has turned me into a comfort item when I freeze. Something hard and foreign is pressing into my belly. It feels like a rod of solid steel against my stomach, even through both of our pants.
I release a shaky breath and shift backward, trying to put distance between myself and Ravok’s morning wood. But he stirs slightly in sleep, murmuring sleepily. His grip on my waist tightens, pulling me closer despite my attempt to move. The steel-hard line of his arousal presses harder into my belly.
Involuntarily, I gasp. That is… intense. My mind reels, caught somewhere between mortification and… Shit, I veer my thoughts away from how good he feels. Thick and hard and just on the edge of what I think I can handle. Thank god that Ravok is unconscious and unaware because he would probably be horrified by this entire situation based on his shock at the kiss cam.
I try to collect myself, to retain my control despite the warmth flooding my cheeks. This is going to be an exceedingly awkward ‘dismount’ if I can’t get off him before he wakes and finds me writhing on top of his morning wood.
My racing thoughts are interrupted by a sudden rustling. Oh no. I dare not move, tensing on top of Ravok. My eyes flit open, quickly zeroing in on the sound’s source.
From the corner of the room, Mango, his yellow eyes wide with ire, stares at us, probably baffled at the uncommon sight of “mom” sleeping on a silver alien. I open my eyes wide, trying to look threatening, and mouth the words, ‘Mango. No!’ at my naughty feline.
I try to slide out of Ravok’s hold again, putting space between our bodies because I know what’s about to happen, but Ravok tightens his hold again. Mango leaps onto the arm of the couch and proceeds to sing the song of his people – a loud lament about the empty state of his belly.
“Mrow. MrrrrrowwwwWWWWW.”
The startling racket of Mango’s angry yowl shatters the cabin’s early morning tranquility. I wince, pausing momentarily, closing my eyes in a silent plea for more patience from theuniverse. I try to shush him quietly, but that only turns the dial on his volume up to eleven.
Ravok’s eyes flash open abruptly, their luminous glow piercing the room’s dimness. His muscles turn to steel beneath my hands, the vibrations of his alarm rippling beneath his skin like tiny shocks. My breath hitches, taken aback by the sudden transformation of the tranquil alien lying prone to what appears to be battle readiness.
I freeze, perfectly still, a deer caught in the harsh, unblinking headlights of Ravok’s gaze. His eyes have a wild look, primal and imbued with an instinctive readiness to fight before rationality bridges the rift between sleep and wakefulness. His eyes dart around the cabin, landing on Mango, then on me, as if expecting an unknown threat. Then his chest relaxes with a heavy sigh, the stormy white of his eyes simmering down to a low, steady glow.
“Sorry,” I whisper. I turn to my feline companion with a scowl. “Mango, shut it! I’ll get your breakfast, you whiny booger.”
Ravok’s eyes meet mine, an understanding in his gaze. A chuckle bubbles from my chest despite the startling moment.
“Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I love him,” I murmur, smiling sheepishly while nodding in Mango’s direction – the cat still blissfully unaware of the commotion he’s caused. All the while, I am making sure that I keep an inch of space between my pelvis and Ravok’s erection. I’m so busy pretending nothing is amiss that I’m surprised I haven’t pulled a muscle. Alien dick?What alien dick?
“Honestly, I swear Mango takes pleasure in causing chaos.”
Ravok merely grunts, resuming his previous relaxed posture, his gaze closing with an amused flicker. The tense air settles back into relaxed tranquility, disturbed only by Mango’s unabated war cries. At least Ravok doesn’t try to keep clutchingme when I go to climb off his body. I am very, very careful not to brush against or even glance in the direction of his erection.
The walk to the kitchen takes longer than it should because Mango keeps twining himself around my feet. It’s sweet and kinda funny, but I swear one day he’s going to trip me. I pour out his morning kibble and set it beneath his nose. Satisfied that my feline companion has everything he needs, I turn my attention to Ravok. He has managed to sit upright on the couch without assistance. That’s excellent news for his progress.
When Ravok suddenly stands up, stretching and twisting his body, I leap toward him, worried that he is pushing himself too hard. Ravok spots me and gives me a droll look, waving me back to the kitchen. He growls words I can’t possibly understand, but I get what he’s trying to tell me. He’s fine and doesn’t need my help.
He turns away from me to roll his shoulders, and I am struck dumb by the sight of his back muscles flexing. The sculpted ridges of his torso bunch and twist as he goes through a series of stretches. My mouth goes dry when he bends over to touch his toes. His sweatpants lovingly display those muscular thighs and bubble butt. When he straightens, I turn and dash into the kitchen, not wanting to get caught ogling him like a piece of alien meat. I don’t want to receive the alien version of ‘my eyes are up here,’ even if I deserve it.
As he heads towards the bathroom, I call out to him, “Ravok, are you hungry?”
He nods at me, giving me a sleepy grin before closing the door to the bathroom.
In the homey, rustic kitchen, I grab the bread, popping two slices into the toaster, then fetch a carton of eggs from the fridge. I crack six eggs into a bowl, beat them until frothy, and pour them onto a pan with several chunks of butter over moderate heat. As the food cooks, I peek into the pantry to find somethingelse to round out the offerings. My eyes catch on a container of oats. On a whim, I decide to make some oatmeal.
Ravok appears in the kitchen amid my culinary bustle; an interested expression is painted across his silvery face as he watches me cook. He inches closer, drawn to the enticing aromas, I imagine, and curiously watches me stir the eggs. I finish cooking and plate everything up. I hand Ravok some bowls and point him back toward the couch as I grab the last dishes and utensils.
He quickly tucks into the eggs and toast but gives the bowl of oatmeal a dubious look.
“Here, try it. It’s oatmeal,” I say, spooning up a bite of oatmeal sweetened with syrup and holding it out for him to try. The sight of my imposing alien cautiously tasting the oatmeal is priceless – his face scrunches in distaste, his lips curling and tightening like he desperately wants to spit out the bite. He finally swallows with a shudder. I shouldn’t, but his reaction makes me laugh.
“Sorry! It’s not funny. Here, let’s trade,” I offer. I take his bowl of oatmeal and pile my eggs onto his plate. He watches me take a bite of my oatmeal like he thinks it will attack me, so I make exaggerated ‘yummy’ noises until Ravok rolls his eyes at me, saying, “Leelee es ulnuvath.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” I respond archly.
After breakfast and clean up – which Ravok insists on helping me with – I’m wondering what we should do now, when he turns to me with a serious look on his face. “Leelee, Ravok vron ru inkza sheep.”
When I stare at him blankly, Ravok mimes his fingers walking and says slowly, “Ravok’s sheep.”
