Forbidden Alien Warlord (SciFi Alien Romance) (14 page)

****

"Come on, Alexis. Open your eyes."

She heard Tyrok's voice whispering to her as if it was coming through water toward her. It waivered slightly and she felt the soft, soothing touch of his hand brushing her cheek. She wanted to respond to him but it felt like her own voice was out of her reach.

"Listen to me," he whispered again, "Focus on my voice and come back to me."

Alexis fought against the sinking feeling that kept her away from Tyrok and felt the fog lifting. She turned her head slowly from side to side and heard a murmur escape her lips.

"Tyrok," she whispered, finally able to find her voice.

Her eyes fluttered open and Tyrok's beautiful face, worry etched into the gorgeous features, came gradually into focus. He leaned down and kissed her gently. The touch of his lips broke through the fog and she lifted her head to press harder into his kiss. Tyrok tucked his hand beneath her head to support it and deepened the kiss, opening his mouth over hers and dipping his tongue inside.

Alexis welcomed the kiss, looping her arm around his neck to give herself leverage so she could crush her body against his. He groaned into her mouth and pulled her up further. She complied with his strength, allowing him to lead her so that she knelt in the middle of the bed, him mirroring her position in front of her so that their bodies touched from their knees to their chests.

Not breaking their kiss, Alexis smoothed her hands down over Tyrok's shoulders. She reveled in the feeling of his warm skin and strong, hard muscles beneath her palms. He returned her touch, slipping his hands beneath her shirt and pulling it up, taking his mouth from hers only long enough to remove it and toss it aside. She hadn't put her bra back on before they returned to the ship and when she tucked back into his arms her nipples grazed his chest.

Alexis whimpered at the sensation that shot through her stomach and into the apex of her thighs. Seeming to take her sound as an invitation, Tyrok steadied himself with his hands on her hips and ducked his head down to capture one of her hard peaks between his teeth. He bit just hard enough to create a tiny, pleasurable shock of pain, then followed the bite with the soothing coil of his tongue around her nipple.

Her hand came to the back of his head to hold him in place, but Tyrok seemed to have other plans. He pulled his mouth away from her breast, moved it to the other one to flick his tongue quickly across that nipple, and then touched it to her stomach. Alexis arched back to offer him better access to her skin and closed her eyes to savor the delicious feeling of him kissing and licking his way slowly toward the button on the front of her pants.

By the time the tip of his tongue slipped beneath her waistband to tease the curve of her hipbone, Alexis was panting and gripping his shoulders for stability. Tyrok straightened back up on his knees and pulled her closer. She felt the pressure of his erection pushing into her belly and bit her lip, her hips making tiny, involuntary movements against his. He kissed her deeply, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it softly. Finally he brought his mouth to her ear.

"Now?" he whispered and Alexis remembered how she had stopped him the last time they were in her bed together.

Unable to speak over her labored breath, Alexis nodded. Tyrok wrapped an arm around her hips and swept her off of her knees, lowering her down onto her back on the mattress. He stretched his body along hers and she parted her thighs, drawing her knees up beside his hips so he could settle closer against her. Slowing their pace, he rocked his hips against hers and kissed her languidly. She tilted her face up to him to offer her mouth completely and felt his hand slip between them again to release the button on her pants and draw the zipper down.

A moment later she was naked before him again, but this time her shyness was overshadowed by her intense desire for him. Sitting back on his knees, Tyrok unfastened his own pants and pushed them off so that they finally had nothing between them. Still moving slowly, he slid back on the bed so he could lower his mouth between her legs.

Alexis cried out as his tongue swept across her, focusing in on the taut, swollen spot he had teased with his fingers before. He paused briefly as if to let her calm down, then continued, using just the tip of his tongue to trace circles through her folds and coax her toward the edge. His hands went beneath her hips, filling with her flesh as he tilted her pelvis up against his mouth. She writhed on the bed, mewling sounds tumbling from between her lips as he continued his blissful torment.

His masterful licks had brought her right to the edge and when his tongue delved inside her, the sensations crashed together in a dizzying, all-consuming climax. She was still riding the waves of tremors that rippled through her body when he moved up and the hard, thick length of his shaft replaced his tongue. He entered her in one smooth movement and her hips lifted to meet him.

Tyrok groaned as he filled her and began moving his hips in long, deep strokes. Alexis gasped at the feeling of him gliding against her and lifted her head to catch his mouth in a kiss. His pace quickened and his thrusts became more urgent. Each hard, intense stroke brought a cry from her lips and Alexis parted her thighs further to accept more of the sensation. Deep, animal grunts poured from his throat as he drove himself into her again and again, his eyes staring into hers. As she gazed at him she realized that what she thought were shimmering blue streaks were actually shooting stars suspended across the honey-colored background.

Her body contracted around him again, the rapid spasms of her muscles milking him until his head fell back and he roared. She could feel him spilling into her, pulsing in time with her tremors. As his muscles relaxed, Tyrok lowered himself down onto her, tucking his sweaty head into the dip between her shoulder and neck. He kissed her gently, his panting breaths rippling across her skin as they both cooled and calmed.

Alexis smiled and let her eyes drift closed. She would ask about the ship tomorrow. For now, all that mattered was the stunning man in her arms and his heartbeat against her chest. She knew that from that moment on she had one less thing to miss about home.

Chosen Alien Gene: Banek’s Quest

Banek took a moment to look at himself in the mirror he had positioned just beside the door of his laboratory, making sure that his appearance was as it should be. Before he had arrived on planet Earth, Banek had done extensive research into the best methods of gathering participants for his study. While most of his colleagues on the vessel had spent the voyage absorbing information about the mechanics of human mating—particularly as it applied to female sexuality and reproduction—Banek had been intrigued by the human concept of
romance
.

It was a concept that didn’t quite exist among Banek’s own people, the Khateen. On Khatanar, mating was a very, very different process. While his people possessed a latent empathy—an ability to read emotions in others with whom they were bonded—
courtship
and
romance
were strange phenomena.

As a result, Banek had devoted most of the time on his voyage investigating those particular aspects of human sexuality. While his colleagues had tracked down information about physical means, developing theories for testing, coming up with hypotheses about whether or not orgasm was required for conception, and arguing cases that seemed to indicate that in certain settings, more than two partners seemed to be required, Banek had consumed anything and everything he could get his hands on in regards to understanding this so-called
romance
.

It seemed to him that this strange mystique was part and parcel of human sexuality, particularly for females. Initial investigations into human male sexuality suggested that it was much more straightforward: males seemed able to inseminate women at will, almost. But in order to convince a human woman to accept, Banek thought, as he read books and watched films that humans had produced on the subject, males had to use gestures and behaviors geared specifically towards communicating their ability as mates. While his colleagues had debated various ways to convince human women to participate in their studies, Banek had—almost from the beginning—decided that the best method to ensure that a woman would agree to work with him would be to romance her.

Once he had come to this conclusion, Banek had spent the rest of his time on the voyage to Earth researching how best to conform to the expectations that human women would have in a romantic partner. He had grown his hair out of the usual close-cropped style that his people adopted when in space, and had reviewed the physical traits of romantic males extensively. Banek knew that the most important thing for him—and for
all
of the scientists participating in the extraordinary study—was to blend in with the humans. Khateen technology allowed them to keep in touch with the skeleton crew manning the ship, keeping it out of the range of human detection, and in certain ways, they were able to disguise their inhuman skin color and eye color. But Banek wanted more than to simply blend in with the societies of the planet he was on; he wanted to present himself as a potential romantic partner.

There seemed to be one archetype of human romance whose looks Banek could hope to duplicate with a reasonable amount of success; he had seen the human man, named Fabio, on multiple covers of romance books—as well as in other media that humans produced. It seemed that even when the man was past the point of ready reproductive viability, he continued to be a figure of female desire. Because of the greater gravity of Khatanar, Banek and his fellow researchers were larger, more heavily muscled, than the human males; in that sense, it would be easy to mimic the physical traits of the one called Fabio.

Clothing was more difficult for Banek; there were so many varied styles associated with human romance, and he had gathered from his research that some of the romantic media took place in bygone times—different eras of human society. He had taken the human money his superiors had given him and invested in a variety of romantic costumes: Banek had purchased clothing consistent with what he knew to be called a “cowboy,” as well as a “Lord,” with a few pieces that were less easily defined as a type.

As he prepared to leave his laboratory and temporary home, Banek looked over his outfit intently, comparing it against the norms that he had absorbed from books and films. He had left his long, dark hair flowing, though the brush of it against his shoulders was still something that he couldn’t quite get used to. His broad, muscled chest was on display in a loose shirt, the first three buttons open. A pair of tight jeans—and Banek had wondered more than once how any human male could be comfortable in the constricting garment—accentuated his muscled legs, and a pair of boots covered his feet. Banek debated whether or not to include the leather jacket he had purchased; but the planet was much warmer than his own—and it was the season that humans called summer, making it even warmer in the area he had chosen for his base. He decided against it.

In the weeks since Banek had established his base on the planet, he had not found a great deal of success in attracting a subject. Some of his other colleagues had reported back already, finding preliminary success with human women and putting forth some new ideas about female sexuality. Banek had absorbed some of the information that his fellow scientists had come up with, but he was eager to test his own theories. He had met with one of his colleagues the week before; Hanket had managed to find a subject to work with, and the woman had given him a wealth of information—namely that women were capable of climaxing many, many times in the course of a sexual interlude. Hanket had laughed the Khateen way, saying, “It’s very, very gratifying to test how many times she can achieve climax in a single session,” he had told Banek.

****

Banek made his way towards the bar he had planned to patronize that evening in order to seek out a willing human woman for experimentation, considering the problems he had encountered thus far. Some of the women he had met over the weeks he had been on the planet seemed to be interested in him romantically at first—but somehow, he had not managed to convince any of them to follow through.
I’ll have to refine my techniques,
he thought as he walked along the sidewalk, barely taking in his surroundings. He had become a “regular” at the bar—Banek had been careful to tip well every time he ordered a beverage, and to be patient with the bartenders, waiting until they had served others without complaining. There was one woman at the bar that he had seen a few times—but always, it seemed, she was with someone else, usually a group of friends.

She was tall and slim, with dark hair and green eyes, and there was something about her that drew Banek’s gaze again and again. He had not been able to understand the feeling that came over him whenever he saw her—it was foreign to any experience he’d ever had. But the sound of her voice, the way that she moved, made Banek wish again and again that he could gather the courage to speak with her, to use his well-studied behaviors and mannerisms to convince her to participate in his experiments. While he had refreshed his studies on the subject of how romantic males approached a woman in a group, he was no closer to understanding how to perform the correct way than he had been before.

Banek stepped through the door of the bar called Vagabond, looking around. It was early in the evening; there were only a few people scattered around, listening to the music and nursing beer or cocktails, talking in small knots of two or three people. “Banek!” the man behind the bar called out, and Banek raised his hand, nodding his head to acknowledge the greeting. He told himself that he would find a subject that evening—whether it was the woman he had been interested in or not.

Banek approached the bar, settling on one of the stools, waiting as the bartender finished serving a diminutive brunette. She was a potential subject, Banek thought, examining her as nonchalantly as possible. The woman seemed improbably tiny by Khateen standards, but he had met women who were smaller than she. Her body was intensely curved: her breasts so full and her waist so small that for a moment Banek wondered how it was possible for her to live without pain. The woman smiled up at the bartender, taking her drinks and leaving a few dollars on the bar as a tip before she left, and Banek considered the possibility of beginning the complex dance that would—he hoped—lead to her agreeing to come “home” with him.

“What’ll you have tonight, Banek?” the bartender asked, leaning forward slightly. “Love the look you’ve got going tonight, by the way; much better than the cowboy thing.” Banek nodded, smiling.

“I think I’ll have a whiskey sour, James.” He had been trying all of the alcoholic drinks he had seen mentions of in books and films—since the Khateen were able to drink alcohol with almost no effects, he had seen no reason not to.

“Good choice.” James started to grab a bottle of whiskey and glanced up as someone walked into the bar. “Looks like your lady-love is here,” James said with a little smile. Banek’s eyes widened and he glanced in the direction of the bar’s entrance. Walking through the door—for once by herself—was the tall, slim, dark haired woman. Banek felt his heart beating a little faster; she looked upset—which filled him with a mixture of concern as well as excitement. A damsel in distress was the perfect opening for his particular understanding of human seduction. So many of the stories he had seen depicting romance involved an upset woman; at first, in his research, Banek had thought that the distress was a required component—but he learned quickly that it simply increased the odds of success.

James served Banek his drink and moved immediately to the seat that the tall, slim woman sat down at. Banek racked his mind for the best possible opening. She had chosen a stool a few places down from him; that didn’t exactly make it easy to talk to her. He thought about his options carefully as he sipped his drink. The whiskey sour was potent—Banek thought that if his metabolism were human, it would give him what was called a “buzz” before he even finished it. He laid down a few dollars for James’ tip and watched as the bartender spoke to the object of his interest. He saw the tall, slim woman smile slightly, nodding to something James said. Banek felt an irrational surge of irritation at the man, who he considered something like a friend, and pushed down the impulse. There was such a thing as getting too into character, he told himself firmly.

James mixed a drink for the woman, and Banek watched in fascination as the bartender added one element after another into the steel mixing cup, shaking vigorously before pouring it into a glass.
The woman must be in deep distress indeed
, Banek thought. Normally she drank very straightforward cocktails: gin-tonic, or whiskey-Coke. Banek sipped his drink again as he thought about how he would approach her; it would take something very great indeed to woo such an unattainable woman, even when she was in distress.