Page 21 of Chosen By the Alien
And that’s something.
Morning creeps in.
I doze a little, then wake up with a start, hard and aching, the dream still vivid in my head.
Tahl behind me, whispering things in a language I don’t understand, his cock pressing into me slowly, like worship. My own breath caught between moans and gasps, the wordsplease, please, morefalling from my lips like prayer.
I wrap my hand around myself, slick already, breath trembling.
I pump slow at first, eyes closed, the memory sharp. I tilt my hips up like he had me, thighs spread wide, greedy for the ghost of him.
I imagine his tongue, hot and slow, tracing over the mark he left.
I imagine him pushing back inside me, that thick alien cock spreading me open again, deeper than anything I’ve ever known.
I come hard, shuddering, gasping his name into my pillow like it’s sacred.
Fuck.
I wipe my hand on the blanket and lie there, staring at the ceiling.
What thehellis happening to me?
But my chest isn’t tight anymore. Not like it used to be. There’s still fear, but now it’s paired with wonder. Curiosity. Something close to longing.
I reach for the notebook again.
Entry 2: I think I’ve been asleep for a long time. He woke something up. And now… I don’t know how to go back.
I don’t think I want to.
I close the journal and smile faintly to myself, thumb grazing the edge of the necklace.
The world’s bigger than I ever knew.
And maybe, I’m ready to see more of it… sooner than I thought.
Epilogue
I never imagined this version of my life.
Not a week ago, I was straight. Or at least living like I was. Now? I open the door to find him standing there, and my body goes warm all over.
Tahl.
He comes in looking like a man, tall and effortlessly beautiful. Dressed down—sweats, hoodie, hood low, sunglasses even though it’s late. But as soon as the door clicks shut behind him, he lets the disguise fade.
And fuck.
He changes for me.
It always starts subtle, his skin catching light that isn’t there, gold simmering underneath. Then he moves, and the shimmer rolls across his neck, collarbone, chest. Like sunlight on oil. I reach out and run my fingers over it, feeling warmth under his skin, like he stores the sun just beneath the surface.
“You like me this way,” he says. Voice thicker in this form. Resonant. It rumbles into my sternum and settles somewhere deep in my gut.
I nod, swallowing. “You know I do.”
We don’t fall into bed right away. Tonight, we’re playing house. Or trying to.
