Page 39 of Secretly Abducted
And he'd let me explore him in return. All that warm skin, those fascinating freckles everywhere, the hair on his chest and legs that's so different from Nereidan smoothness. The way his body responds so readily, so honestly. No hiding behind careful control—just pure, human want.
I remember the outline of him in those wet shorts, sizeable and straining against the fabric. Very compatible with Nereidan anatomy, from what I could see. More than compatible. The thought of him inside me, of being filled by someone who knows exactly what they're doing, makes my bioluminescence pulse in rapid waves.
The idea that this experienced, confident human wants me specifically, intensely, exclusively—it's intoxicating.
My hand moves faster now, chasing the building pressure. In my fantasy, Alex is here, touching himself while watching me, telling me how perfect I am, how much he wants to see me come undone.
The climax hits me like a riptide, unexpected in its intensity. My whole body lights up, turning the water around me into a constellation of color. And in that moment, I swear I feel it—an echo of something, like touching a live wire, like another pleasure layered beneath my own.
Alex. Somehow, impossibly, I can feel an echo of Alex.
I float in the aftermath, chest heaving, bioluminescence slowly settling back to normal patterns. The spark of connection fades but doesn't disappear entirely. It hums under my skin, waiting, promising more if I'm brave enough to reach for it.
Is this what happens when you finally let yourself truly want someone? This terrifying, overwhelming, addictive need?
I rise on shaking legs, wrapping myself in a drying cloth. My reflection in the wall panel shows the truth—I'm glowing with satisfaction, with possibility, with a hunger for more that I've never allowed myself to feel.
Tomorrow, he'll come back to help with the zhik'ra. We'll work side by side in the water, half-naked and hyperaware of each other. We'll surface together, breathing hard from exertion, water streaming down our bodies. And maybe, if I'm brave enough, I'll kiss him again. Let him know that I'm starting to understand what he meant about physical and emotional being connected.
Maybe I'll even tell him about the echo I felt, the spark that's growing stronger.
Or maybe I'll ask him to show me. All that experience he casually mentioned. All the things he's learned about pleasure, about bodies, about making someone fall apart. The thought that he's probably had dozens of partners doesn't make mejealous—it makes me curious. What has he learned? What can he teach me?
What would it be like to be the focus of all that knowledge and confidence?
The thought sends another wave of arousal through me, my body apparently making up for years of emotional deprivation all at once.
I move to my sleeping area, settling into the shallow depression designed for Nereidan rest. But sleep feels impossible. My skin still hums with sensation, my mind replays every moment of our kiss, my body aches for touches I've never let myself crave before.
Somewhere across the settlement, Alex is probably lying awake too. Maybe touching himself again, thinking of me. Maybe he's done this multiple times tonight—he'd said washing sheetsagain.The casual way he'd said it, like satisfying himself while thinking of me was natural, expected, even necessary.
Humans and their integration of physical and emotional. Their comfort with desire. Their ability to want without shame or hesitation.
I press my fingers to my lips, feeling the lingering warmth of his kiss. Tomorrow feels very far away and entirely too close. Part of me wants to swim to him right now, climb into his bed, and let him show me everything his experience has taught him.
But the larger part—the part that's learning to open up, to want, to trust—knows that waiting will make it better. The anticipation itself is delicious in a way I've never experienced. This burning under my skin, this constant awareness of another person, this desperate curiosity about what comes next.
My bioluminescence settles into gentle pulses of gold and purple as I finally drift toward sleep. In my dreams, I taste synthesized cheese and carbonated sweetness. Feel warm handsthat know exactly where to touch. Hear my name spoken like a revelation by someone who's said many names but makes mine sound special.
And underneath it all, that spark pulses steadily, pulling me toward tomorrow, toward Alex, toward possibilities I've never let myself have before.
The zhik'ra will need tending in the morning. The storm damage won't repair itself. But for the first time in years, the work doesn't feel like escape or routine.
It feels like foreplay.
Because tomorrow, Alex will be there. Tomorrow, we'll stand in the water together, pretending to focus on kelp cultivation while our bodies remember last night's kisses. Tomorrow, I'll watch him move with that easy confidence and wonder what else he moves with such surety. Tomorrow, I might be brave enough to touch him again, to explore this terrifying, wonderful, impossible thing growing between us.
Tomorrow, I might even ask him to show me what those times with others taught him. What all his experience has led to. What it would feel like to be wanted by someone who knows exactly what they're doing and chooses to do it with me.
Chapter Ten
Alex
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I was back on that dock, Vel'aan's cool lips against mine, his bioluminescence painting us both in impossible colors. The spark of connection we'd both felt—like electricity, like recognition, like something clicking into place that had been waiting to align.
I touched myself three times during the night. Once in the shower immediately after getting back. Once in bed, trying to find release so I could sleep. Once more around dawn when dreams of purple-gold skin and careful kisses woke me aching.
