Page 26 of Alien Desire
We meet at the table and this time when I insist she sit on my knee, she doesn’t refuse me and perches on my thigh, resting her back against my torso.
Although we can finally speak to one another, it seems the ability has almost overwhelmed us, and we fall back into our simple way of communicating with gestures and grunts. She lets me feed her little pieces of the sweet pastry my mother made and in between her mouthfuls I steal kisses, noting the way the taste of her mouth changes.
It gives me the strangest urges. I bite a berry in half, exposing the juicy flesh inside, and I smear this along her lips, then lick it off with my tongue. Her pupils swim wide and her scent spirals. My cock starts paying attention.
I do it again, this time gliding my tongue slowly along her lip one way, and then nibbling my teeth back along the other. Her eyelids drift shut and she sighs softly. It forces me to grip her waist and kiss her more firmly.
When I release her mouth, she takes a berry for herself and bites into it slowly, dragging her teeth through the flesh. The purple juice cascades down her chin. She offers the halved berry to me, bringing it to my mouth, and with my eyes locked on her, I mimic her action, biting through the fruit. But before I’m done, she smothers her mouth with mine and captures the other half. We kiss, the berry dissolving into our mouths and the juice spilling over our lips.
Eating has never been so enjoyable.
As I draw my finger up her chin, swiping away the wetness and licking my sticky fingers, I have a strong desire once more to discover what lies beneath her clothes and to smear berry juice over every part of her, simply so I may lick it off.
Another bewildering thought.
Then she takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom where we lie face to face on our beds. She wants to kiss me some more, but I can see that her lips are bruised and swollen. I trace them carefully.
“Where is your family, Omega?” I ask her.
“Omega isn’t … I don’t know what you mean by that.” She points to herself, like we’d done out on the ice. “I am a human female. My … kind originates from the planet Earth. It exists in a galaxy called the Milky Way, on the other side of the universe.”
“Yes,” I say, “But you are also an Omega. I can smell it in your scent.”
“My scent?”
“In my world there are six kinds of Gryton: Alpha male or female, Beta male or female, and Omega male or female.”
“And what are you?”
“An Alpha male.”
“And how are you different?”
“Only an Alpha can mate an Omega.”
“Mate?”
“Create offspring together.”
“I am not an Omega,” she tells me fiercely, pushing up on her elbow to peer down at me with defiance in her eyes.
I do not know what to make of this. She is. My nose could pick out an Omega’s scent over hundreds of kilometers. And never has an Omega smelled as potent as this one. But she is ignorant to what she is. I wonder how this can be possible. But if it is so, I need to ease her into this new reality gently. I need to know how much she understands.
“You are not mated,” I say. This much I know.
“This is the wrong word,” she says with irritation. “I don’t have a life partner, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“And have you ever mated an Alpha?”
“Have you?” she snaps.
“It is not physically possible for an Alpha to mate with another Alpha or a Beta. Only an Omega.”
“And have you mated with an Omega?” The irritation is still clear in her voice and her scent. I do not know why.
“All the Omegas on my planet belong to my father or his closest allies.”
“Pardon me?” she says.
