Page 29 of Rok’s Captive (Barbarians of the Dust #1)

PROOF THAT ALIENS HAVE EXCELLENT TASTE (IN EVERYTHING)

JUSTINE

I wake with a start, my heart pounding and my skin flushed. The dream clings to me like damned desert dust—vivid and embarrassingly real. Rok’s hands were everywhere, leaving trails of lightning. I’d gasped as his claws scored my ribs, pleasure so sharp it bordered on agony. ‘Mine ,’ he’d snarled against my throat as my back arched, offering myself. His mouth had sealed over my nipple, sucking hard, and I’d cried out—only to wake panting…and with my fingers already buried between my thighs.

I freeze. Oh. Oh no. My clit throbs.

I’ve never woken up like this, fingers wet, hips grinding into my own hand. A broken sound escapes me. Another alien fantasy to add to my growing collection. What is this planet doing to me?

I press my thighs together, trying to quiet the persistent ache there, and take a deep breath to steady myself. The cave is dark, just faint starlight filtering through the narrow entrance, but something feels off. Something woke me.

A sound. Movement.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I make out Rok’s silhouette near the cave entrance. He’s pacing—three steps one way, pivot, three steps back—his movements jagged and tense. His breathing sounds labored, almost pained, and alarm shoots through me.

“Rok?” I whisper, sitting up. “Are you okay?”

He freezes at the sound of my voice, his massive form going completely still. When he turns, I can just make out the gleam of his eyes, the tight set of his jaw. His teeth are bared in what looks like a grimace of pain.

My first thought is danger—maybe something attacked him while I slept. My second thought is that he’s undergoing another transformation, like the one that brought those stars beneath his skin and his new magic stick.

But as I look closer, I catch a glimpse of movement at his waist. His hand is moving rhythmically, gripping something beneath the makeshift loincloth.

Oh my god. He’s masturbating. Right here in the cave while I sleep.

My brain short-circuits, embarrassment and something else—something hotter, sweeter—flooding through me. I should look away. I should absolutely, definitely look away.

I don’t.

And as I watch, I realize this isn’t what I thought at all. His movements aren’t the smooth, practiced motion of self-pleasure. He’s gripping himself hard, almost painfully, his posture rigid with what looks like agony rather than ecstasy.

He’s not masturbating—he’s suffering. As I watch, he seems to lose whatever battle he’s fighting with himself and collapses against the cave wall, sliding down until he’s sitting, legs splayed, one hand still clutching himself so tightly I wince in sympathy.

I should look away. I should pretend to be asleep. I should do anything but stare at an alien in the throes of what appears to be the universe’s worst case of blue balls.

But I can’t tear my eyes away, especially when he lets out a sound—low, pained, almost a whimper—that cracks something open in my chest.

He’s tormented. Genuinely suffering. And suddenly it hits me that he’s been this way since his transformation—constantly aroused, with no release, no relief, not even during the brief private moment I thought he took outside the cave earlier.

For some reason, he’s denying himself. Controlling himself. Even when it causes him pain.

I hesitate, torn between embarrassment and an unexpected wave of tenderness. He’s not what I expected when I first saw him—this fierce, golden predator. He’s thoughtful. Considerate. Protective.

When’s the last time a man sacrificed his comfort for mine? Made sure I had water, food, safety? Carried me when I couldn’t go on?

The answer comes quickly: never.

Something shifts inside me, a decision forming before I’m fully aware of it. Why not? Why cling to prudishness on a planet where I might die tomorrow? Why deny both of us something we clearly want?

I rise to my feet, and Rok’s head snaps up at the movement. Even in the dim light, I can see him trying to straighten, to hide his state, to compose himself despite the obvious pain. His hand moves away from his groin, and he tries to adjust the loincloth to hide his predicament.

My heart cracks a little at the gesture. He’s embarrassed—trying to spare me discomfort even while suffering himself.

“I thought you were a wild thing when I first saw you,” I say softly, moving toward him with more confidence than I feel. “But you’re more thoughtful than most men I knew back on Earth.”

His head tilts slightly. That gesture I’ve come to recognize as confusion. Of course, he doesn’t understand my words, but something in my tone or expression must communicate my meaning because his posture relaxes slightly.

The way he’s looking at me now makes my breath catch. His eyes roam over me with naked hunger. As if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, despite my torn clothes, dust-caked hair, and sunburned skin.

No one has ever looked at me like that. Like I’m precious. Like I’m perfect exactly as I am.

I reach him and lower myself to my knees between his outstretched legs. He stiffens, a low growl in his throat.

“Let me help you,” I say, a bit surprised my voice is actually steady. “It’s okay.”

I reach for the loincloth, and he tenses but doesn’t stop me as I unwrap it, revealing his fully erect cock. Fuck. It’s even more impressive up close—long and thick, the skin a slightly darker shade of that amber-gold, with that broader head that makes my mouth water.

I hesitate, suddenly nervous despite my bravado. What if his anatomy works differently? What if I hurt him somehow? What if?—

His hand comes up to touch my face, so gently it’s barely a whisper against my skin. There’s no recognition of my intent in his eyes—just concern mixed with his own barely contained need. He’s checking if I’m alright, even now.

“You have no idea what I’m about to do…do you.”

His slightly furrowed brow makes a soft chuckle leave my lips. He tilts his head, his hand brushing against my jaw more firmly now.

With only a moment’s further hesitation, I wrap my hand around his length. His reaction is immediate and dramatic—he hisses through his teeth, his head falling back against the cave wall, his entire body going taut like a bowstring.

It’s the reaction of someone experiencing a completely new sensation. The realization hits me like a thunderbolt: he’s never been touched like this before. This might be his first sexual experience of any kind. I don’t know why that makes a pleased laugh brush through my nose.

With the cold that seeps in the night, he’s hot—right now warmer than human body temperature—and harder than seems possible, yet the skin is velvet-soft. Perfect, my mind supplies. He’s absolutely perfect.

I stroke him slowly, marveling at how my hand barely wraps around his girth. He responds with a full-body shudder, his hips jerking involuntarily, a sound escaping him that’s half shock, half pleasure.

And then I can’t help myself—I imagine how he would feel inside me, stretching me, filling me completely. The thought alone makes me clench with want.

Rok’s reaction is immediate and startling. His cock pulses in my hand, and a bead of clear fluid forms at the tip—slightly golden, catching the faint light. He makes a sound that’s half growl, half moan, his eyes locked on mine with such intensity a delicious shiver goes down my spine.

It’s as if he knew what I was thinking. As if he could read my mind, see those dirty things I’m thinking about, and react to it. Which…isn’t impossible.

That should probably concern me more than it does, but I’m too far gone to care. Encouraged by his response, I lean forward and, before I can second-guess myself, take him into my mouth.

His entire body jerks in shock, a strangled sound escaping him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a roar. His hands clutch at the stone floor beside him, claws scraping against rock as if he’s desperately trying to anchor himself.

The taste hits me immediately—sweet and rich, like warm honey. Nothing like a human man. It’s delicious, addictive, and I find myself wanting more.

I glance up to find him staring at me with an expression of absolute wonder, as if I’m performing some kind of miracle. It dawns on me that even though he licked me, this, me doing this to him , might be completely foreign to his species. The thought sends a thrill through me—I’m introducing him to oral sex. I’m his first.

I take him deeper, working him with my hand and mouth together, finding a rhythm that has him panting and trembling beneath me. His restraint is impressive—he’s holding himself back, his hands still pressed flat against the stone rather than touching me, his hips rigid as if he’s afraid to move.

“You can touch me,” I murmur, pulling back just long enough to say the words before taking him in again.

He doesn’t understand the words, but after a moment’s hesitation, one trembling hand comes up to rest lightly on my shoulder, then slides into my hair. The touch is so careful, so restrained, that it makes my heart ache. Even now, lost in what must be overwhelming sensation, he’s afraid of hurting me.

It doesn’t take long. Soon his breathing changes, becomes more ragged, and his cock swells impossibly larger. He makes a desperate sound, trying to pull back, to warn me of what’s coming next.

I hold firm, determined to finish what I started. When he comes, it’s with a force that catches me by surprise. Hot, thick pulses fill my mouth—sweet like the pre-cum, but richer, more complex. It should be strange, alien, but instead, it’s the most natural thing in the world to swallow it down, to lap up every drop as his body shudders beneath me.

As the final tremors subside, I sit back on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and feeling oddly proud of myself. Rok stares at me, his expression a mix of awe, gratitude, and complete bewilderment, as if I’ve just shown him a new color he never knew existed.

“Better?” I ask, a small smile tugging at my lips.

He reaches for me with hands that still tremble slightly, pulling me gently up and into his lap. His forehead presses against mine, and suddenly his thoughts are flowing into me, clear and strong but tumbling over each other in their urgency.

“ Jus-teen. What…how…never felt…beautiful Jus-teen. No words. No words .”

The raw emotion behind the jumbled thoughts makes my chest tight. I hadn’t expected such vulnerability from him, hadn’t expected the wave of gratitude and wonder that accompanied his words in my mind.

“You’re welcome,” I murmur, relaxing against him. “Though I’m pretty sure I enjoyed that as much as you did.”

I feel his confusion, then there’s a low rumble that vibrates through his chest.

“ You taste like water in the desert ,” he thinks at me, the thoughts clearer now. “ Sweet. Necessary .”

I freeze, suddenly realizing what just happened. He responded directly to what I said. To words I spoke aloud in English.

“Wait,” I say, pulling back slightly to look at his face. “Can you…understand me? Not just when we’re touching foreheads?”

His eyes meet mine, and he tilts his head slightly before pressing his forehead back against mine.

“ Your thoughts. They come to me. Images. Even when you speak with sound-words .”

A shiver runs through me—equal parts wonder and alarm. “Since when? How long have you been able to understand what I’m saying?”

He tilts his head again, and I get the sense it’s not as straightforward as I think. There are still kinks.

“ Since stars ,” he replies, and an image flashes between us—his skin illuminated from within, his body changing. “ Growing stronger. At first, just feelings. Now, more .”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “So all this time I’ve been talking to myself, you were getting the gist of it? That’s…actually kind of embarrassing.”

There’s a pause as he seems to process my words, a slight furrow appearing between his brows. Then his thoughts flow into mine again.

“ Nothing about you is small ,” he thinks at me. “ Your courage. Your kindness. Your spirit. All vast like the endless dust, but beautiful .”

Whoa, to think I thought this dude had no semblance of communication. How dumb was I?

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “That’s a new one,” I whisper. I can feel my cheeks warming. I can’t even hide it. “Usually, guys just say ‘you’re hot’ or something equally profound.”

His head tilts against mine. “ You are warm, yes. But more than warm. You are… ” He struggles to find the concept, then gives up and sends me a feeling instead—a rush of wonder, desire, and protectiveness all wrapped together.

“Oh,” I breathe. The intensity of it is almost overwhelming. This … this communication is more than words could ever tell me.

We sit like that for a long moment, my body cradled against his, his thoughts gently washing over me. It should be strange—this connection, this intimacy with a being so different from myself. Instead, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

His thoughts shift, and suddenly I’m seeing images—golden beings like him, but with subtle differences. Some taller, some broader, all with the same amber skin and fierce eyes. A settlement carved into stone cliffs. Weapons made of bone and stone. Rituals around a fire.

“ My clan ,” he explains. “ Strong warriors. Have lived in the dust since before my memory began. Will help find your clan .”

The communication is still imperfect, thoughts fragmenting as they transfer between us, but I understand enough. These people—his people—have survived in this harsh desert for generations beyond count. And now they’ll help me find Jacqui.

Eventually, I pull back slightly, suddenly aware of how tired I still am, how far we still have to travel tomorrow.

“We should sleep,” I say, making a pillow gesture with my hands.

He nods, understanding, but when I move to return to my spot across the cave, his arms tighten around me.

“ Stay ,” comes the thought. “ Safer together .”

I hesitate only briefly before nodding. “Okay. But just sleeping, right? I mean, that was fun, but I’m exhausted, and?—”

He cuts off my rambling with a gentle press of his forehead to mine again. “ Rest, Jus-teen. I will guard .”

I settle against him, his arms wrapping around me to provide a barrier between my softer body and the hard stone floor. His warmth envelops me, comforting in the cool night air of the cave.

As I drift toward sleep, a thought occurs to me that should probably terrify me but somehow doesn’t.

I’m falling for an alien.

A golden-skinned, occasionally starlit alien with fangs and claws who, until recently, didn’t even have the appropriate equipment for the decidedly non-platonic feelings I’m developing.

If someone had told me a week ago that this would be my life, I’d have laughed in their face. But now, curled against Rok’s solid warmth, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.

The universe, it seems, has a strange sense of humor. And apparently, excellent taste in cock design.

I’m almost asleep when his thought drifts into my consciousness, so soft it might be a dream.

“ Daughter of Ain, sent from the sky to bring change. I will protect you till my last breath .”

My eyes snap open in the darkness, my heart suddenly pounding. Daughter of whom? What exactly does he think I am?

But his breathing has deepened, his arm heavy around me, and I’m left alone with the chilling realization that the being I’m falling for may believe I’m something I’m not.

And that kind of misunderstanding could be dangerous for us both.