Page 55 of Exiles on Earth
“I feigned being overcome by Gerverstock strength,” Iexplain, anger still bubbling beneath the surface. “I said I would lure it, and for you to stay quiet.”
“You faked being hurt? But it shot you.” Ignoring my irritation, she spreads her hands over my chest as if searching for a wound.
There’s no time. The robot behind me smokes, about to explode.
I scoop her up in my burning arms. Curling over her to shield her, I press her close, my scales softening as if melting against her body.
The machine explodes, sending a wave of heat across us. El-len clutches me close, squeezing her eyes shut as the edge of the fire licks my scaled back.
Once it dies down, I look over my shoulder at the smouldering remains of the wreckage. “It’s over.”
She grabs my chin, forcing me to face her. “Are you hurt?” she demands. “An explosion isn’t going to distract me from you being injured, you know.”
The depth of her concern makes my hearts beat harder. She’s worried about me. Me, a Tuber, when her life is worth a million of mine! “I deflected the bolt with my scales, El-len.”
“Next time, tell me the plan.” Her teeth chatter, softening her indignation, and a new fear sparks inside me. Her clothes are soaked through, little shocks coursing through her body as she shivers, her core temperature dropping fast.
Holding her close to my thundering hearts, I sprint for the lambing shed past the wreckage of the bot. I shift her slight weight against my chest to twist the door handle of the small, one-room shelter, and El-len puts her arms around my neck. By the All-Mother! Such a wave of joy rises up at her touch, but also cold fear which matches how chilled she is.
I heat up immediately as I stride into the room.
“Right.” El-len’s teeth knock together roughly, putting her device on the window ledge. “I’ve got to get out of these clothes.There’s dry ones here, if I remembered to return them last year. Please put me down.”
I comply, loosening my hold to let her slide down my body. Her closeness should have been a moment of pure joy, but she’s far too cold. I help her stand, turning her around to face me so I can check her responses. She looks up at me, her lips blue instead of blush pink.
“Are they supposed to be that color?”
“Hm?”
I touch a fingertip to her lips, a light brush. She shivers badly, but her eyes warm, and the adrenaline singing within my body wants more.
She needs to tell me what she chooses. “El-len, what now?”
“I, uh…” She stares at my neck and chest, and I glance down. Melting snow traces down my collarbone and between the lines of my pectorals, and her eyes follow the path. Is she similarly struggling with her desires for me?
She swallows hard. “Help me undress, I can’t do it on my own.”
“Of course.” I grasp the zip of her coat, sliding it down her chest and stomach the same way I’ve seen her do it before. My hands rove the tops of her shoulders and her eyelids flicker closed, relaxing into my touch. I take more and more of her weight as I peel the wet cloth from her, one layer removed, and now her shirt. Each tiny button is an exercise in control, but I’m built for extreme situations. I can defeat some buttons. The shirt parts and my knuckles brush skin at last. Soft, cold and clammy, and trembling under my touch.
She shucks her shirt off and stands before me, shining in the pale light of the torch in the dim room. Her torso sports a creamy expanse of skin the same as her arms, with no scales, as I suspected. Two mounds sit on her chest, encased in cups of fabric with straps around her shoulders and chest.
Her fingers shaking, she takes hold of her waistband. “I n…need to get these j…jeans off too.”
“I can help.”
“P…please,” she whispers, her soft voice undoing me completely.
Finally, I’ll see what she looks like without human coverings.
Unthreading the button on her jeans, I find another, stiffer zip with my thick fingers. Once opened, I roll the garment down, and here it is, the pinnacle of my lifetime. I dreamed it would happen, worked hard and hoped beyond hope, but to be here now, with El-len, at this moment, is more than I could have ever wished for.
I slide the cold, wet garment over her hips and the tops of her thighs, revealing a small black cloth at the apex of her legs. Her limbs are creamy, soft but damp, red in places. Lowering to my knees, I slowly ease the jeans down her cold, clammy legs, keeping my eyes focused on the task, but my senses fill with her intoxicating scent, a mixture of sweetness and salt, earth and wild air. My cocks immediately press forward, my body aching for hers, to meld us together, to use my untested skills to make her moan my name.
Her freezing hands rest on my scalp; I tip my head up from this bounteous feast.
“H…Hi,” she says, a welcome flush in her cheeks though she shivers uncontrollably.
“Greetings.” I push aside my burgeoning desire to focus on her. “How do you feel?”
