Page 18 of Chosen By the Alien
“Yes.”
“And the shapeshifting thing? That’s real?”
He nods. “Our tech allows it. Not true shifting. But altering what you see. Making the form… softer. Less threatening.”
“Human-looking.”
“If that comforts you.”
I glance down at his chest, at the ridges of his muscles, the strange markings down his sternum. “It doesn’t scare me,” I say. “I like the way you look.”
Tahl hums, pleased. “Still, I can change. If you wish.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t want you to pretend. I want you like this.”
His eyes darken slightly. “Say it again.”
My pulse jumps. “I want you like this.”
A low growl rumbles from him, like I’ve fed some animal instinct. His hand moves down, over my chest, tracing lines with his fingers. His touch is reverent, not hurried.
“I will take you again,” he murmurs, “when you ask.”
I feel my cock twitch, even through the lingering ache. I’m already half-hard, just from his voice.
“I’m… still sore,” I admit.
“I know.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I left my scent inside you. I could smell it when you moved.”
I groan and cover my face. “Jesus.”
“You liked it,” he whispers against my skin.
And fuck me, I did.
I lower my hands slowly and look at him. “You’ll really wait?”
“Yes.”
Even if I’m a mess? Even if I have no clue what I’m doing?
“Okay,” I say. “Then I guess… I’ll figure it out.”
He smiles and pulls me close again, tucking me under his chin. We stay like that for a long time. Breathing. Listening to the birds outside. My mind still races with questions and doubt, but his body grounds me.
I don’t know what this is. I don’t know if I’m gay. Or bi. Or just broken in a way that somehow fits him.
But I do know I’m not ready to let him go.
And for now… that’s enough.
Chapter 8
We get out without anyone seeing us. All the people that still remain are blacked out. Jake is nowhere to be seen. And Tahl kisses me like he doesn’t want the encounter to end.
Like he wants to burn it into me. Intous.
Our mouths crash together again in a corner of the back patio, hidden behind the tall hedge where no one from the party can see us. His hand cradles the back of my neck, firm and grounding, while mine grips the front of his shirt, knuckles brushing bare skin.
