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No matter where I am in the den, I feel his gaze burning into me. I know he hates me. He told me so. I wonder if I am imagining the other things I am feeling. Heat. Desire. Need. Connection?
Now I’m going too far. The solitude has gotten to me and turned me into a sitting duck for any talking predator with a dick. That’s what it is. I need some alone time to relieve the tension that has built up in my libido. The wild things are very free in their self-expression, but I’ve never felt right doing… that around them. I go into my little hut when I need my alone time. That’s what I do now.
I can feel the females settling outside my door. I have never felt so protected as I do when surrounded by these creatures who have shown me more love and affection in my months stranded on this world than in the many years before.
My bed has been put together from a bunch of sticks and wood bound together with vines and topped with the skins of fallen prey that I stretched and dried in the sun. I do not have many creature comforts, but the comforts I do have are made of creatures.
Lying back on the bed, I try to get control of my senses and my thoughts. Rampant attraction is not the proper response to a murderous alien. I let my fingers slide beneath the belt of my pants. I find the furred apex of my thighs and let my fingertips drift through the smooth, slick channel between them.
* * *
Volt
Human. Arrogant human. Rude human. Sassy, impudent, sexy human.
There is a way to neutralize the threat she poses. It has come to me all at once, in a great rushing flood of inspiration as I watch her disappear into her little human construction with one last glance over her shoulder at me.
The wild ones respect the most fundamental bond: the mate bond.
She has not been claimed by any of them. I suspect she has never been claimed by any male. I will change that. I will bare her bountiful human rump and plunge my rod inside her, knotting and fucking until she is mine in the most undeniable of ways.
Framed in this manner, my desire for her is not weakness. It is tactical. I can act on it without guilt now that I have determined how utterly correct and indeed, necessary it is. I am not being seduced by the same human who has cast a spell over the revered wild ones. I am taking command and saving all those who dwell on this planet.
Suddenly there is something on the breeze, a non-coincidental confirmation of my instincts. It is her lust, floating on the currents of air that flow through the many cracks and crevices of her little hut. She may think she has privacy, but her scent puts her on display as clearly as if she were lying in the very middle of the den.
I curl my upper lip up and draw that scent in. There are some commonalities between our species, enough that her pheromones connect with my receptors and wreak a unique kind of havoc on my desires.
There is intimacy here in this moment of breath, a connection she may not be aware of and yet is forging deep inside the very chemistry of my being. Is this why the wild ones chose her? Does her scent command our kind to desire her, protect her, perhaps even love her?
I let out a low growl under my breath. This human presents great danger, and yet the more I breathe her in, the more I feel myself begin to change, first in chemistry and then in thought.
Her whimpers catch the same breeze. It is obvious she is trying to be quiet, but the pleasure she is giving herself demands to be given voice. At first they are soft moans, intermittent and almost tender. Then, as her scent grows on the breeze, making the air thick with her lust, they get lower and more guttural.
Images of soft, hot flesh ready for the claiming flash through my mind. I have never seen the sex of a human, but there is some ancestral or collective memory that enters my mind in a flash. I see a hallowed gate of flesh, a dark entrance surrounded by warm flesh, tipped with a little jewel that pulses with electric need.
I want to be inside that tight cave. I want to stretch the walls and make my knot inside them. I am fully erect now, my shaft emerging from the sheath of protective skin and fur in which it usually resides to quiver with hard need. My hips move almost of their own accord. It is impossible not to hump and grind when fully aroused as I am now.
