Page 22 of Chosen By the Alien
We cook together in my cramped kitchen. He insists on doing things “human style,” but he’s terrible at it. Somehow, he sets off the smoke alarm three times trying to flip a quesadilla.
“I thought youlearnedfrom observation?” I tease, fanning the air with a dish towel while he opens the window.
“I observe. I do notmemorize failures.”
I laugh. “That is not how cooking works, genius.”
He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. His chin rests on my shoulder. “Then teach me.”
His lips are right there. I kiss him.
We eat at the couch, knees bumping. I’m in shorts. He’s still glowing faintly. Every time his thigh brushes mine, I forget how to chew.
We don’t make it to dessert.
He kisses me while I’m laughing, while I’ve still got tortilla crumbs on my shirt. It starts slow, lips sliding together, easy, familiar. But there’s heat under it. There always is with him.
“Bedroom,” I whisper against his mouth.
“No,” he says, and his voice curls down my spine. “Here.”
God help me, I’m already hard.
But not tonight.
Tonight’s mine.
I push him back onto the couch and straddle him, knees on either side of his hips. He groans when I grind down, and I kisshim harder, deeper. He always kisses like he’s starving. Tongue slick, possessive, coaxing me open even as I take the lead.
I roll my hips, slow and steady, pressing our cocks together through fabric. His breath catches. His hands grip my waist, then move under my shirt, splaying across my lower back.
“Take it off,” I whisper.
He does, peels my shirt up and off, then leans back to stare at me. His eyes aren’t normal anymore. They’re shot through with heat. Hunger.
“You glow too,” he says. “Right before you come.”
I blush. “Shut up.”
“Make me.”
So I do.
I kiss him again, rougher this time. Biting. Pulling his hoodie off, then the shirt beneath. I shove my hand down the front of his sweats and wrap it around his cock, already hard and slick. Always slick.
“You’re ready for me,” I whisper.
“I am always ready for you.”
It shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does. That he’s some alien being, made of light and power and heat, and yet hewantsme like this. He lets me ride him, again and again. Gives me everything. Letsmelead.
I get up only long enough to drag him into the bedroom. We’re both breathless, drunk on it.
He lies back, eyes locked on me, hands behind his head like he’s offering himself. His chest glows brighter. His cock’s flusheddeep gold, glistening already. Too big, but I’ve taken it before. Iwantit again.
I straddle him and grind down, slow. Torturous.
He growls.
