Page 87 of Technically Abducted
"Chosen," Finn repeats, his hands coming up to frame my face. "I choose you too. Every day, every moment. I choose you."
The kiss is soft, tender, full of promise and permanence. Through our bond, I feel his joy mixing with mine, creating feedback loops of contentment that make my bioluminescence pulse in steady waves.
"I should check on Alex," Finn says when we finally part. "Make sure he's okay down there."
"The monitoring systems show he's still in deep sleep," I tell him. "The adaptation exhaustion will likely keep him unconscious until morning."
"Good," Finn says, a different kind of intent entering his expression. "Because I'm awake now, and I'd like to continue what we started in the hydration pool."
The directness of his desire through our bond makes my patterns flare bright. "The sleeping chamber has better privacy controls," I suggest.
"Lead the way," Finn says with a smile that sends heat through our connection.
Later, much later, we lie tangled together in the sleeping chamber, watching the moons rise through the transparent ceiling. Their combined light turns everything to silver and shadow, creating patterns on Finn's skin that make him look almost Nereidan.
"Tell me about the illumination gathering," he requests, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. "What should I expect?"
"The alignment of our moons occurs twice in our solar cycle," I explain. "During the alignment, the combined gravitational forces trigger bioluminescent blooms in our oceans. Billions of microorganisms synchronize their light production, creating patterns visible from great distances."
"Like aurora borealis, but underwater?"
"An apt comparison. Families gather at traditional viewing sites, share ceremonial meals, and participate in community bonding rituals. Children often receive their first formal swimming instruction during the gatherings."
"Will there be a lot of people?" Finn asks, a note of anxiety creeping into his voice.
"The specific location my family uses is relatively private," I assure him. "Perhaps thirty individuals at most. All family connections or close associates. You won't be overwhelmed."
"And they'll all know about us? About the bond?"
"Word has likely already spread," I admit. "Empathic bonds are rare enough to generate significant interest. But Finn, our culture views such bonds as precious. You'll be welcomed, not judged."
He's quiet for a moment, processing this. "What about Alex? How will they react to him?"
"With curiosity, likely. His situation is unique—a human with childhood exposure to our world. But my family will extend him the same welcome they offer you. He's under our protection now."
"Our protection," Finn repeats, smiling slightly. "I like how you say 'our' so easily now."
"We are bonded," I remind him. "Your concerns are mine. Your friend is my responsibility as well."
"He's going to have so many questions when he wakes up," Finn says. "About everything. About what happened to him as a kid, about why he's here, about what happens next."
"The Council investigation will hopefully provide answers about his childhood encounter," I tell him. "And he can stay here with us as long as he wants." Through our bond, I feel Finn's relief. His loyalty to Alex runs deep, and I would never ask him to abandon someone so important to him.
"You know," Finn says after a moment, "a year ago, I couldn't have imagined any of this. I was alone, convinced I always would be, just trying to survive each day. And now..."
"Now?" I prompt when he trails off.
"Now I have you. I have your parents calling me family. I have a home on an alien planet where the water glows and the technology responds instantly to my voice and my boyfriend literally lights up when he sees me." He turns to look at me directly. "It's like every lonely moment, every fear that I'd never belong anywhere, was just preparing me for this. For you."
The profound gratitude in his voice, the wonder that still colors his perception of our connection, makes me smile. I pull him closer, letting my bioluminescence express what words cannot adequately convey.
"You saved me too," I tell him quietly. "Before you, my existence was efficient but empty. I completed assessments, filed reports, fulfilled obligations. I never understood what I was missing until you showed me."
"We saved each other," Finn corrects, settling against me with a contentment I can feel resonating through our bond. "And now we get to figure out what comes next. Together."
"Together," I agree, watching the moons' light ripple across the water visible through our window. "Always together."
The integration process will begin tomorrow. There will be challenges—bureaucratic procedures, cultural adaptations, Alex's investigation, the complex reality of building an interspecies life. But tonight, in this moment, with Finn warm and pliant in my arms and our bond humming with shared contentment, I am complete in ways I never imagined possible.
