Unnatural Instinct: Abduction

14.

I feel much better now, almost like myself again.

Almost.

You look bewildered as you gaze at me with those big, bright eyes of yours. Why does it shock you that I can be kind? Haven't I yet proven that I can be trusted?

'That'll be fine,' you say in a whisper.

I nod and look away. I can feel your eyes following me as I slump down in the couch. Shortly after, I hear the rustle of sheets as you lie down in my bed. The bright lights flick off. I can hear you breathing amid the gentle hum of the ship's engine.

I can tell you're not asleep. I'm the same; my body is still throbbing and my mind is twisted with so many terrible and wonderful and uncertain thoughts. Still, I close my eyes and try.

It's hard to tell how long I've been resting when you join me on the couch. My eyes snap open. I sit up with a start but you gently push me back down with one firm hand in the middle of my chest. With trembling fingers I touch your face. You say nothing but do the same to me. The couch is only small and you're bunched up so close I can feel your breasts pressed up against my side.

It astonishes me. You astonish me. I thought you hated me.

'I'm sorry,' I say. 'For all I've done to you.'

Your eyes glisten in the warm glow of my room. 'Thank you.'

An overwhelming urge to have you close bids me wrap my arms around you. It's a strange feeling; it makes my whole body tingle, particularly down in my pelvis where I feel the blood pool around my pubic bone. 

You entwine your fingers with mine as you look up at me. Then your lips are against mine. A kiss. I know what it is, though I've never performed it myself before. It feels good. I kiss you harder as I tighten my arms around your shoulders. How I know what to do I don't understand, probably through some primal instinct buried deep in my psyche.

Suddenly, you pull away. Your lips are pink and you look breathless. I touch your face, concerned. 'Are you all right?'

'Let's go to the bed,' you whisper, taking my hand and dragging me off the couch.

You crawl into bed. I follow, lying on my side as I watch you. You're kneeling, your eyes distant, as though you're thinking about something. In a sudden rush, you remove your top, flinging it onto the floor.

I lick my lips, not knowing what to say. You shouldn't be doing this. We shouldn't be doing this. It's against nature. But I don't want to stop you. Even when you reach for my suit and slowly unzip me down my chest, I don't stop you. 

My throat is tight and dry as I swallow. My heart is thudding madly. You wriggle in close until your chest is pressed up against mine, your face buried in my throat. Your skin is so warm. I can even feel the pounding of your heart. I rest my hand on your shoulder.

'What's your name?' I say, suddenly realising I never asked.

You tell me. I coil my fingers through your hair. It matches who you are perfectly. I gently pull away from you at the feel of something wet against my throat. I lift your chin. You're weeping again. You weep a lot.

'What's wrong?' I say.

'Just thinking ...' You close your lips, blinking rapidly as more tears flow.

'About home?'

You nod and press your face back into my throat.

'I told you I'll get you back,' I say.

You don't respond. I can feel your warm breaths. You're such a queer being. Even with all my research and intelligence, I simply cannot understand you. Why are you here with me? What is it you need?

I try not to think, closing my eyes.

The next morning we wake the same way we fell asleep, enfolded in each other's arms. My room's automatic lights have switched on, reminding me that it's time to get up; that despite it all, I still have work to do.

Slowly, I pull away. You roll onto your back with a little groan. You're still half asleep, your eyes shut. At every breath your breasts rise and fall. I watch them. They're so soft looking that I can't help but reach out to touch one. My hand hovers very close, but at the last moment I fist it and pull away.

I ease out of bed, trying not to wake you further. Briefly I study you, my eyes travelling over the length of your body, over the little details of your face. Your hair flows over my pillow. Quickly, I turn away. I'll let you rest, but I've got work to do.

My suit is open at the chest but feels very tight at my groin. I sigh. I turn back to look at you, then turn away. I won't have you 'help' me again. I can do it myself if I must.

Stripping off my suit, I step into the shower, turning on the steam as I take hold of my penis. It's rock hard and a gleam of blue discharge has trickled down the length of it and onto my scrotum. My testicles feel heavy. My shaft feels tight. Bracing myself up against the wall with one hand, I use the other to do as you did last night. At first I don't understand why it doesn't work—I'm getting nowhere fast—then I think of you, and suddenly it becomes an easy thing.

Moments later, my body jerks and blue semen jets onto the floor of the steam bath. The strain in my body slowly ebbs away. The hot throbbing in my groin cools. I rest my forehead against the wall as I normalise, struggling to comprehend what I've gotten myself into.

After a short while, I turn off the steam bath and get changed into my suit. I glance once more at your still form. Why did you do that last night? Why did you feel compelled to press your bare skin against mine? I touch my chest where you touched me as I look at you. You're still lying on your back, bare-breasted.

Feeling a twitch between my legs, I hastily exit my quarters.