Page 102 of Rok's Captive
He doesn’t understand the words, but after a moment’s hesitation, one trembling hand comes up to rest lightly on my shoulder, then slides into my hair. The touch is so careful, so restrained, that it makes my heart ache. Even now, lost in what must be overwhelming sensation, he’s afraid of hurting me.
It doesn’t take long. Soon his breathing changes, becomes more ragged, and his cock swells impossibly larger. He makes a desperate sound, trying to pull back, to warn me of what’s coming next.
I hold firm, determined to finish what I started. When he comes, it’s with a force that catches me by surprise. Hot, thick pulses fill my mouth—sweet like the pre-cum, but richer, more complex. It should be strange, alien, but instead, it’s the most natural thing in the world to swallow it down, to lap up every drop as his body shudders beneath me.
As the final tremors subside, I sit back on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and feeling oddly proud of myself. Rok stares at me, his expression a mix of awe, gratitude, and complete bewilderment, as if I’ve just shown him a new color he never knew existed.
“Better?” I ask, a small smile tugging at my lips.
He reaches for me with hands that still tremble slightly, pulling me gently up and into his lap. His forehead presses against mine, and suddenly his thoughts are flowing into me, clear and strong but tumbling over each other in their urgency.
“Jus-teen. What…how…never felt…beautiful Jus-teen. No words. No words.”
The raw emotion behind the jumbled thoughts makes my chest tight. I hadn’t expected such vulnerability from him, hadn’t expected the wave of gratitude and wonder that accompanied his words in my mind.
“You’re welcome,” I murmur, relaxing against him. “Though I’m pretty sure I enjoyed that as much as you did.”
I feel his confusion, then there’s a low rumble that vibrates through his chest.
“You taste like water in the desert,” he thinks at me, the thoughts clearer now. “Sweet. Necessary.”
I freeze, suddenly realizing what just happened. He responded directly to what I said. To words I spoke aloud in English.
“Wait,” I say, pulling back slightly to look at his face. “Can you…understand me? Not just when we’re touching foreheads?”
His eyes meet mine, and he tilts his head slightly before pressing his forehead back against mine.
“Your thoughts. They come to me. Images. Even when you speak with sound-words.”
A shiver runs through me—equal parts wonder and alarm. “Since when? How long have you been able to understand what I’m saying?”
He tilts his head again, and I get the sense it’s not as straightforward as I think. There are still kinks.
“Since stars,” he replies, and an image flashes between us—his skin illuminated from within, his body changing. “Growing stronger. At first, just feelings. Now, more.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “So all this time I’ve been talking to myself, you were getting the gist of it? That’s…actually kind of embarrassing.”
There’s a pause as he seems to process my words, a slight furrow appearing between his brows. Then his thoughts flow into mine again.
“Nothing about you is small,” he thinks at me. “Your courage. Your kindness. Your spirit. All vast like the endless dust, but beautiful.”
Whoa, to think I thought this dude had no semblance of communication. How dumb was I?
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “That’s a new one,” I whisper. I can feel my cheeks warming. I can’t even hide it. “Usually, guys just say ‘you’re hot’ or something equally profound.”
His head tilts against mine. “You are warm, yes. But more than warm. You are…” He struggles to find the concept, then gives up and sends me a feeling instead—a rush of wonder, desire, and protectiveness all wrapped together.
“Oh,” I breathe. The intensity of it is almost overwhelming.This… this communication is more than words could ever tell me.
We sit like that for a long moment, my body cradled against his, his thoughts gently washing over me. It should be strange—this connection, this intimacy with a being so different from myself. Instead, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
His thoughts shift, and suddenly I’m seeing images—golden beings like him, but with subtle differences. Some taller, some broader, all with the same amber skin and fierce eyes. A settlement carved into stone cliffs. Weapons made of bone and stone. Rituals around a fire.
“My clan,” he explains. “Strong warriors. Have lived in the dust since before my memory began. Will help find your clan.”
The communication is still imperfect, thoughts fragmenting as they transfer between us, but I understand enough. These people—his people—have survived in this harsh desert for generations beyond count. And now they’ll help me find Jacqui.
Eventually, I pull back slightly, suddenly aware of how tired I still am, how far we still have to travel tomorrow.
