Page 11 of Caveman Alien’s Horn (Caveman Aliens #26)

11

- Cora -

I’m laying it on pretty thick, but there are limits to how subtle I can be while trying to flirt in an alien language. And I was never good at it, anyway. I just don’t have the experience to be elegant like that.

“Some things are easy for me,” Sprisk says as he takes the cooked meat slices off the stones with his bare fingers. “Others are not.” He puts the slices on a cool, flat stone and blows on his fingertips.

“Oh? What things are not easy?”

He gives me a sly smile. “No man will say what his weaknesses are. You’ll have to find out for yourself.” He offers me a slice of sizzling meat, along with a fresh green, Y-shaped twig to hold it with.

“I will find out,” I promise as I bite into the tender filet. “If are weaknesses. Not can see yet. Cooking is not weakness. Meat is delicious .”

“ Meat is delicious,” he says in immensely guttural English, remembering two of the words I taught him and adding this new one.

“Yes!” I exclaim, happy that he remembers. “Also Sprisk learn speak alien very fast!”

“It’s easy,” he says modestly. “When the teacher is very tenacious and beautiful.”

I hold out my mug so he can refill it with the frine. It’s stronger than Earth wine and must have been fortified somehow. It suits me fine, because it gives me a plausible excuse for the things I really want to do right now.

“Thank you.” I meet his green gaze and hold it until I can’t take it anymore. My mouth is dry and there’s a sucking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I’m perfectly aware of what’s going on here, of course. I’ve been alone for years, desperately lonely down to my very core. Suddenly a huge alien with a voice like a church organ and forearms like bridge cables is taking a very personal interest in me, abducting me and beating up everyone who tries to hurt me, be they dinosaurs or outcasts. He’s a total master of the deadly jungle, he feeds me and gets me out of danger, gives me the finest shelter I’ve seen and the best food I’ve had for years. And he doesn’t seem to want anything for it. He just saw me being alone and couldn’t stand it. Because of course his heart is as huge as everything else about him.

“This is ready.” Sprisk takes another cooked slice of meat off the cooling stone and hands it to me with a new twig. He holds his massive hand under it to prevent any grease from dripping on me.

I’m only human. Nobody with a working soul can be expected to resist this onslaught of kindness, this massive wave of male strength and clumsy caring without wanting to give something back. Something that could be really good for both of us. Something that I’m starting to need.

And I’m really curious about his tongue. It’s obviously long, like I’d expect from someone who’s part chameleon. Is it as dextrous as those, too?

He’s being very respectful and probably cautious of crossing some line. I may have to take charge until he gets it. And seeing how there are no native girls on this planet, I might have to get pretty clear about it, because he simply will not have experienced female subtleness before.

I drink half the mug in one gulp. “You have new knife.”

He holds up the new machete. “This hasn’t been new for many years. I wonder where he stole it from.”

I reach over and touch the machete with one finger, my hand resting lightly on Sprisk’s. “Outcast think, he can kill Sprisk. But Sprisk just fight and win. Very strong Sprisk.”

“They tried to trap me in an ambush,” he says, visibly swallowing as he notices my touch. “But they were only outcasts. They had no chance.”

“No chance against… cough… you…” I try to purr seductively, but I’m not used to using my voice like that, so it starts a coughing fit instead.

Sprisk quickly refills my mug and hands it to me. “Drink this.”

I take a big gulp, but it goes down the wrong way and makes me cough harder, spraying the frit all over us both and making the campfire hiss.

“Sorry…” I wheeze. My eyes fill up as I lean forwards and cough like I’m dying from tuberculosis. “I just… cough… mean… cough… that…”

Sprisk slaps my back with his giant hand, just about knocking the wind out of me. “Don’t talk. Here’s water.” He refills his own mug with water and holds it out.

I take it and try to time the gulps in the pauses between coughs. “Thank cough… you.”

He slaps me again, a little softer, then rubs my back as I get the coughing under control.

Some seduction , I think to myself. Coughing my lungs out. Just like Cleopatra did, I’m sure.

“Feeling better?” Sprisk asks, still rubbing my back.

“Yes,” I wheeze, my voice strained. “A… cough… little.” I wipe my eyes. “Thank you.”

“Good,” he says and removes his hand.

“No,” I tell him and grab his hand, putting it back.

He keeps rubbing outside my straw tunic. It feels really good. His hand is big and warm.

I scoot closer to him, so that his hand slides lower on my back and over to my hip. “Much better.” I drain the mug of water, wanting to regain my voice properly.

Sprisk keeps lightly rubbing. “Of course they had no chance against me. I’m half Big. They only knew I’m a Foundling.”

Sitting this close, it’s only natural that I rest my hand on his bare knee. “Your skin. It change color.”

“Sometimes it does. They say it makes me invisible. Especially at night. Like the Bigs we call glyx . I am probably half glyx, old Melr’ax says.”

I rub his knee and slide one hand down to the ankle. “ Glyx . They are good at climb tree?”

“I don’t think any tree is big enough for an adult glyx to climb. They’re big. But they do grow up in the treetops and climb around up there. Mostly invisible, like me.”

“You good climber too. I can see feet?”

He crosses one leg over the other, so that the foot is closer to me. “They are different from yours.”

He’s right, they are. Not super different, maybe. His feet have five toes that look normal. But the bottom of the foot is full of little parallel ridges, hundreds of them. They must create immense friction with any smooth surface. Maybe even some suction, too.

“This is why you climb so well,” I take a guess. “Feet stick on tree bark.”

“Best climber in the tribe,” Sprisk drawls. “Brak and Noker think they climb well, too. But not like me. And nobody can hide the way I can.”

“You can make invisible now?”

He puts more meat on the fire. “It mostly happens by itself. I usually don’t notice it, except that it’s easier to win fights and sneak up on prey. Most boys go through the Stripening and get stripes in the right color for their tribe. I went through some kind of Invisibling, which was much less fun.”

“I like invisible warriors,” I make up on the spot. “But not invisible always.” I casually let my hand slide up from his knee, pretending to be studying his skin and checking it for invisibility. I notice his bulge twitching, so maybe soon he’ll get it. Despite my embarrassing coughing, I’m absolutely ready to explore this further. The frine helps, making me brave.

His skin feels like my own, smooth and warm, but there are more little scars than I hope to ever have.

I suddenly notice that my fingers are leaving little wakes, spots of shimmering rainbow colors right where they’ve passed. Intrigued, I lift them from his skin. The spots where they’ve been shine like gasoline on water for a second, then fade to his normal color. The camouflage pattern must be sensitive to touch. Or maybe to heat.

I quickly draw lines on his thigh and watch them fade. “Look.”

“Hm?” He turns his eyes away from the fire.

I quickly draw an S and try to write Sprisk , but the rainbow-colored S fades before I can complete the r .

“Huh.” Sprisk makes lines on his skin, too, but they don’t leave any marks like mine do. “That’s very strange.”

“It’s pretty cool, actually,” I say in English. I grab the twig that I used as flatware and make another attempt to write his name. But this time, there’s no trace. I try again with my finger, writing Hi as fast as I can. The shimmering letters fade right away, but it still feels magical. “Does hurt?”

Sprisk tries again, but to no avail. “No. It’s pretty, but also alarming.”

I draw a circle and then a spiral. “Maybe only others can do.”

“Maybe. Never seen it before. The little boys in the clan often touch my arms and legs. I think I should have noticed. Or they should.”

I quickly draw a little heart, then unnecessarily wipe it with my palm. “Is almost like an Etch-a-sketch. Maybe works on me. You try.” I offer him my forearm.

“ Eshashkesh . I was just going to say it. It is exactly like that.” He lets go of my hip and supports my arm with one hand, then strokes along the skin with the other. His touch is so warm and so light that a shiver goes down my back.

“It’s not same,” I say. “But almost. See these?” I point to to goosebumps that appeared. “Maybe is same.”

Sprisk strokes my forearm again. “It must be the same. You have small bumps, I have strange patches of color. Obviously the same.”

“Obviously?” I taste the new caveman word, guessing at its meaning. “Means?”

“Clearly,” he says as he strokes me again, towards the elbow, raising new goosebumps. “Plainly.” He tries my upper arm, with the same result.

“Oh,” I moan at the touch. “It means ‘plainly’.”

“It does.” He gives me another feather light stroke that ends up at the edge of my short sleeve. “Hm. No more skin.”

“There’s more!” I insist, purposely not thinking too hard about this. He’s seen me bare anyway. A little more won’t matter. And he’s absolutely in control of himself. Nothing bad will happen here. But something nice just might. “Wait.”

I pull my tunic and skirt all the way off and sit back down, wearing only the panties that Astrid gave me.

“So there is,” Sprisk confirms and strokes a line from my upper arm and around my shoulder up to the base of my neck.

I can’t conceal the shivers that go down my back. Holy cow, I am so starved of human touch that even these caresses get me all tingly.

“Not that you’re human,” I mumble in English. “But you know what I mean.”

“That was not about meet or nife or fud ,” Sprisk notes as he strokes along my upper back, setting me shivering again. “I know that because I speak your language to perfection.”

“It was about this,” I tell him, having trouble concentrating because his touch takes all my attention. “Is very nice.”

He changes his position and lets one finger stroke down my back while his other hand makes small circles at my upper chest, with a distinct downward tendency. “Yes, it is nice. And it seems that there are still bumps. Later perhaps we will see if there are colored spots on all parts of me .”

“Yes,” I whimper, because the shivers down my spine are getting ludicrous and the tingles down my front are getting stronger fast. “We will see.”

One thick finger strokes lightly along the side of one breast. “Still bumps. Do you think I should go higher?” His fingertip makes a big circle around my breast, with a little bit of a tightening spiral to it.

“Oh… yes,” I manage, the breath catching in my throat. Oh my, going from nothing for years to this intimate exploration in only a few minutes is almost overwhelming. But I can take more. Much more. And he’s being sure to get my permission, which puts me at ease.

He moves his other hand to my front as well and pulls me to him, so that I’m leaning against his massive chest. Now both his hands are spiralling, one on each breast. The shivers and the goosebumps are constant now.

Tighter and tighter his spirals get until he strokes across first one nipple, then the other. Both contract immediately, so hard and so fast they ache.

A hard tingle shoots down my front, and I really want to reach down and touch. But I have a tiny bit of modesty left, so I manage to keep my hands still.

I buck involuntarily as he gently pinches both nipples, just the right side of painful. “Oh…”

He brings his mouth closer, and his spikes stroke softly against my skin. Of course he has perfect control and will make sure they don’t pierce me.

His lips touch mine, angled so his spikes don’t touch.

I groan again. This is all sensory overload, but I want more

Still caressing my breasts, he moves his mouth down my front, leaving hot little spots where he’s kissed me. I stop worrying about the spikes on his jaw — he won’t let them touch me in any way that hurts. Their presence adds to the thrill. He’s really dangerous, but not to me.

He works his way all the way down to my leather panties, then skips across them and moves his lips to my inner thigh.

He kisses down there too, waking up the delicate skin to a soft treatment it’s never known before. His fingers tap the thin leather of my panties, stroking up and down the contours of the secrets inside them.

“Yes,” I rasp. “More. Do it.”

He runs his tongue along the curve where the leather meets the skin. Then, a fingertip slides a quarter inch under the panties and stops.

“Yes,” I moan, having to struggle to remember the word in cavemannish. “Toh!”

The finger slides another half inch in and stops again. Yeah, he’s making real sure that I’m okay with this.

“Toh,” I moan again. “Do it. There. You can.”

I expect him to slide the finger further in, but he’s way ahead of me. Instead he simply pushes the loose-fitting leather to the side and bares my sex.

The deep rumble from his throat tells me all I need about whether he likes it or not.

“Woman,” he growls and places a kiss right at the center.

I buck again, his touch so intimate and so gentle that I’m desperate for more. “Oh!”

His tongue runs up the middle of my pussy, sending heat all through my center and making me brave. I let my legs fall open more, giving him access. I feel his spikes gently stroking my inner thighs, not with their points but with their smooth sides. And those caresses are really pleasant.

Sprisk starts licking and circling, his touch light and responsive, his tongue covering everything at the same time. And my sex is so starved for attention and touch that I can already feel the first little tingles of the climax. I need more now, something firmer. I signal it by arching my back, pushing my sex higher.

He gets it and starts moving his mouth and tongue faster and firmer. The sounds that reach me from down there are wet and sloppy, and I know I must be dripping.

That’s fine. I want this.

“More,” I urge him as he still doesn’t touch my clit. “Hard.”

I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I feel as if every tiniest little part of my lips are being caressed and soothed and kissed and stroked.

Still I want more, but before I start bucking again, Sprisk flicks his long, textured tongue at my clit and keeps it there, the pressure light and perfect and consistent.

I hold my breath for a moment. He knows there’s no need to invent anything there — just keep going in the same way and…

“ Aaah,” I moan as the climax starts. The bliss washes through me, makes me whimper and squirm. My thighs try to close, but Sprisk won’t let them. He’s still busy with my clit, licking and circling and then sucking on it, lightly and gently.

Damn, goes the thought through my mind. I’m being eaten out by a caveman alien…

It’s a powerful orgasm, longer than any I’ve ever had before, mostly because Sprisk knows exactly how to prolong it. How did he learn this? I feverishly wonder. On a planet with no women?

He slows down and and finally takes his mouth completely off me, but keeps his hand on my thigh. “That was wonderful,” he says, voice hoarse. “I just Worshipped you.”

I can’t speak for a while, just panting and enjoying the comedown.

Finally I open my eyes and find myself in the jungle clearing. “Wonderful,” I echo. “Just wonderful. How you know?”

Sprisk gives me a satisfied smile. “The tribes have shamans that teach the boys what to do if they meet The Woman. It’s one of their myths. They must Worship her, and he shows them how on a wooden doll. Old Melr’ax was a shaman before he became a Foundling, and he taught us the same thing.”

“Then old Melr’ax should have my sincere thanks,” I wheeze in English. “I’ll send him a card. I’m sure Hallmark has one that suits the occasion.”

“Hmm?”

“Never mind. Alien talk. Sorry, I still are....” I motion to my pussy.

“Ah.” Sprisk gets to his feet. “Wait here.”