Page 58 of Caveman Alien's Touch

We make our way back to the camp. Noker puts me on Dexer’s platform while he gets busy with packing up for the move, planning it and helping some of his clansbrothers who have trouble being of much use. I notice his calm, friendly manner. It seems impossible to make him mad or to ruffle his calm exterior. I can’t help but wonder what might happen if somebody did succeed at that. Something cataclysmic, probably.

“Without Noker, Sprisk, and Brak, there wouldn’t be much of a clan,” Dexer says as he lights up the smart little ceramic stove on his platform. Somehow he notices what my gaze keeps seeking, despite his blind eyes. “Shaman Melr’ax was also important for many years, but now he’s too weak to do much. And I don’t think he will return from the tribe.”

“If not, the clansbrothers can come see him in the village,” I suggest. “He would love to see you all.”

He opens the compartment in the base of the platform and takes out pre-sliced filets of meat. “We’re afraid of the tribe. Now, the only Foundlings they’ve seen are Brak and Noker, our mightiest and most admired clansbrothers. If they think we’re all like them, they’ll be disappointed when they see the rest of us.”

“Maybe not,” I carefully suggest. “The Borok tribe don’t set babies out in the jungle to die if they’re different. I’ve seen men in the tribe with only one hand, or no legs, or some other difference.”

“Do they have blind men?”

“I haven’t noticed any. But there’s a Borok man who can’t hear. They treat him as an ordinary triber.”

He puts the meat on the hot grill, making it hiss. “Hmm. It sounds almost too good to be true. But it fits with what Brak says.”

I get comfortable on the platform, getting used to the slow pendulum motion.

My hopes of finding yeast for baking didn’t work out, but at least I know they can make it, if that foam of theirs is in fact yeast. The drap fruit doesn’t just have a really good vanilla flavor, it’s also intriguingly mealy when it’s dried, turning into a fine, white powder. It makes me excited to experiment with it.

My eyes keep searching out Noker. He jumps from platform to platform and sees to it that everything is ready for the move. I can’t deny that his head fan makes him look weird. He’s clearly an alien, more so than any ordinary caveman. Maybe that’s one thing that attracts me to him. He’s perfectly confident about his unconventional head, even if it makes him stand out more than Brak does. But it’s also a proud thing, like a peacock’s tail feathers, showing the world his strength and pride and manliness. Because he’s not lacking any of those things. He even deals with kids in his positive manner, building them up in a fatherly way.

In total, seeing Noker leading his clan makes me want him. Like, seriously.

Dexer and I eat the grilled meat in silence.

When the sun sets, Noker comes over and quickly eats the final grilled slices, long since gone cold.

“That should do it,” he says as he helps me over to his platform. “Everything is packed up, ready to move. Every man who can carry his own platform must do that. But still some of us must go back and forth many times. It will be a long day.” He hauls us up into the treetops.

I still don’t love dangling this high up. Every tiny movement makes the platform move and jerk. Noker fastens it with two more ropes to keep it steadier, but the branch moves with the tree. So it doesn’t really make much of a difference, but I appreciate his constant efforts in keeping me comfortable and safe.

“Then you should get some rest,” I tell him as he positions us so that I’m leaning back into him. He really likes sitting like that.

“This is rest,” he argues and pulls me closer, his hands on my hips and his fingertips slowly making small circles on the denim fabric. “Don’t you feel restful?”

I lean my head back on him and spread my knees another inch. “Very restful. Let us make sure we not disturb the rest of the clansbrothers.”

The platform moves as he leans over and looks down. “They’re far below us, all of them. I’ve told them to sleep early.”

Judging from the insistent poking in my back, he has the same idea that I have and he’s absolutely ready for it. “They not coming up?”

“If they do, I’ll be very upset with them,” Noker growls, both hands under my sweatshirt.

I know he’s tired, and we’re both more than ready. There’s no need to drag this out.

Grabbing the hem of my sweatshirt, I pull it up to my neck so he has access to the bare skin. His touch is a fantastic counterpoint to the cool air, and the contrast makes me shiver.

But I want more, and I don’t want to wait. I roll over to my side and quickly undo the button in my jeans, then push them to my ankles. Lying like this, I’m presenting myself pretty well to the caveman without having to look down.

“Oh, I see,” Noker growls softly. I hear the soft sounds of him pulling his shorts down, then the meatybongwhen his hard cock springs free of the fabric and hits something.

“Be careful,” I say softly.

“I hit the oven,” he grunts. “It’s fine. Very cold now.”

I push my butt towards him. “Put it here instead.”

He does, first the tip at my outer lips, wetting it with my juices. And there are a lot of them — the air up here is still, and I can absolutely smell my own arousal.

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