Discovery (12 page)

The familiar behavior—drawing near to one another in times of need—shared by their races comforted her. She knew, though, as much as she wanted him to hold her and not let go, he’d become uncomfortable. So she backed off after a minute and tried to smile.

He led her back to the tent and the steaming container. The contents smelled good: a thick, pale green liquid he identified as “split pee soup.”

Povre looked at him askance. “Pee?” Hadn’t he told her that “pee” was the human word for urine?

He laughed when he finally understood, laughed so hard his eyes turned wet. She stared in fascination as water formed and dripped from them.

“Not
that
kind of pee, Povre!” Then he explained about the small edible seed, and words in his language that sounded the same but meant different things. Povre thanked the Goddess that he gave up on the latter and instead brought out his handy notebook.

She leaned close to watch as he made a quick sketch of a plant, a flower, a funny bumpy pod with little round seeds.

“
Pisum sativum
,” he added, an absentminded afterthought. “There’s a related plant that grows wild,
Lathyrus odoratus
, or the sweet pea, but while it’s a great nitrogen fixer like all legumes, it’s poisonous. Very pretty flowers. It looks like this.”

Povre liked the way he explained with images and words. She liked, as well, that there were special scientific words for things. Why then bother with all the same-same sounding words? Why not just use the correct one in the first place?

She pushed the rush of irritation with his language aside and examined the soup once more, very relieved that it had nothing to do with urine and didn’t contain any ingredients made from animals, because she was starving.

Carefully, she touched her tongue to the hot liquid and found it delicious, if a bit salty. She also enjoyed the stuff he called trail mix, or gorp. He explained it was a mix of fruits and edible seeds and something called
khandee
. The colored round things with the brown sweet stuff inside, the
khandee
, she didn’t care for at all. Since K’nt said those round colored bits were the best part, Povre gave all hers to him in trade for the dried fruit in his share.

“T
IME FOR SLEEP. I'M
going to clean up a little. You go ahead, go into the tent.” Kent took himself off to do his part in woodland fertilization and perform a quick spot cleaning with his Ziplocked supply of baby wipes. He changed his underwear and slid into his last clean set of clothes, sweats, and sweatshirt. Had he been alone, and the weather warmer, Kent would’ve slept nude. He would’ve slept nude in other circumstances, too.

As a matter of fact…

“Stop it!” He gritted his teeth and pulled up the sweats over his goose-fleshed legs. “It’s too damned cold.” Of course it’d be warmer for both if they did sleep—unencumbered.

He returned to the campsite, lit only by dim, clouded moonlight. A closer look at a strange shape hanging from a tree limb revealed Povre’s empty jumpsuit, spread neatly. Next to it was another one piece garment, a thinner one.

“You can’t leave these out here, Povre. They’ll be soaked by morning.” He retrieved the garments, rolling them the same way he would roll his jacket and shirt to use as padding beneath his head once he was settled. Then he stopped short. “Damn.”

What did that leave on her?

He found out soon enough and nearly bolted from the tent. From what he could tell, she was entirely nude. He gulped. Then again, the flash of a bare shoulder didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of strapless covering on.

“I doubt it.” He swore again, softly.

Great. He had to sleep in a narrow sleeping bag with a naked alien—an attractive, beautiful, soft-as-chamois female alien who looked all too human in all the right places.

“It’s that or freeze. So what am I complaining about? Sleeping with Povre is a much better alternative. What the hell…one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind…”

He could see the supermarket tabloid headlines.
I Slept with an Alien. Amazing TRUE photos!

“K’nt.” Her husky voice interrupted his thoughts. “You are baby-man, yes? Or no?” She sounded scolding and just a bit amused. “I not bite. Not carn-ee-vor.”

He couldn’t move or speak at the moment, fighting an internal battle.

Then she started squirming out of the bag. “I sleep out.”

“No! You sleep
in
. Too cold out here. I’m coming…” Bad word choice. “I’m getting in.” He punched himself in the thigh. Lord. Couldn’t he say a simple sentence without a double meaning smacking him right where it hurt the most? “I’ll sleep in the sleeping bag with you. But I warn you, no kissing, either. Just sleep.”

“No kiss? Kiss make warm I, you.” Was that a smile in her voice?

Kent stripped off his socks. “No. Absolutely no kissing. For your information I’m not the sort of person who engages in casual sleeping with an alien.” He tried not to laugh. “At least not on the first date.”

Another sigh. “O-kay.”

He handed her the bundle of clothing. “Use this for a pillow. Under your head.” After arranging their boots so the insides would stay dry, he peeled off his shirt and rolled it with his jacket. Another small step for man, he thought to himself, taking a deep breath.

Kent wriggled into the sleeping bag beside her as quickly as he could. He turned his back to her, telling himself he didn’t feel anything soft and warm through the never-ending zing of tiny static shocks. And no, he hadn’t caught any alluring glimpses in the half-filtered moonlight, either. Not a single one. He zipped the tent, then the bag, closed his fingers into fists, and crossed his arms in front of himself like a mummified pharaoh. His legs tangled with hers, as the bottom of the bag narrowed and there wasn’t any way around it. Both muttered apologies as their respective injuries were bumped. Legs settled in layers: first, his left leg, then hers; his right leg with hers on top.

He felt her warm body mold itself to his back. A slender arm slipped around his waist. He tried not to flinch as more of the small electrical charges prickled, but couldn’t help a shiver as her fingers touched the skin and sparse hair on his midriff.

What did she do with her other arm?
He could feel the tips of her fingers near his hair.
So she must have it folded beneath her head.
She really had no choice. If she held her fists knotted in front of her, as he did, it would be uncomfortable for them both. And feeling her fingertips were better than the knobby hardness of her elbow.

Her head burrowed into the back of his neck. Two soft but firm mounds pressed right below his bare shoulder blades. Of course every nerve ending in Kent’s body headed right to that area of his back in an attempt to fully identify the intriguing contours.
Should’ve left my damn shirt on,
he thought, swallowing a growl. He considered slipping into it now, but the even, slow breathing from behind stopped his motion before it got started. Had she fallen asleep so quickly?

“Povre?” he whispered.

She mumbled something, wriggled even closer, pulled her legs a little higher.

Oh, God.
Kent wished he’d kept quiet. All he needed was her to shock him
there
.

To his relief, once her movement settled so did the static. Even so, he felt as if there were an electrical generator behind his back. The almost subaudial thrumming, he was certain, would keep him awake. The emissions weren’t monotonous: there was a pattern, in sync with her breathing and heartbeat. Sooner than he would have guessed, rather than annoying him, Kent became lulled by the pattern and imagined he slept on an ocean beach in golden warm sunlight. Or cuddled on a thick rug in front of a merry fire in a woodland cabin with gentle rain pattering on the roof.

Most curiously, the soft vibrations spread a feeling of peace and well being, and the soreness slipped from his body, the tension relaxed from his muscles. He gave no argument with that.

With his next sigh, Kent, too, slept.

* * * * *

THE CHANGE IN LIGHT
awakened Povre. That, and feeling heavy, as if suddenly back in a higher gravity. She was so comfortable, though, and loved the feel of the man’s big, warm hand on her—

Her eyes flew open. Somehow they had become twisted together in the night. She lay half under him, her head pillowed on his left arm. His face nestled into her hair, his soft regular breaths sending a breeze through the strands. His right hand cupped her left breast. She became more aware of the heat from his hand as she noticed. She’d allowed no one to touch her as much as this human, and certain no one had held her breast in his, her, or its hands before. A sensation of protection and possession whispered from the strong brown body touching hers.

She began to think about more than kissing and touching. Her breath came fast. Her pulse hammered. Yesterday, the incredible sensations produced by his tongue deep in her mouth had set her system racing. Shocking at first. But it had felt so good.
Would he do it again? At all? Soon? Right now?
She eyed him hopefully. He slept.

K’nt was right, now was not the time to experiment.

Her reaction made him wake up just a little, enough so that his hand moved…but not away. His head nuzzled down her shoulder and ended up pillowed against her other breast. Her nipples, normally flat and flush with the surface of her breasts, emerged with the stimulus and the feel of them brought an unconscious reaction from the man.

Povre tried to analyze this as a scientist should, without emotion, but she was a highly tactile person. She knew this sort of touching was natural between male and female Sirgels who cared deeply for each other. The act went farther with others who knew they had an unbreakable bond as life-mates. And of course the scientific reasons and methodology she understood totally. She herself had done her share of hugging and kissing, but never cared deeply enough for anyone else to go any farther.

She couldn’t help remembering that she was ready to discover they were capable of it just yesterday. It was so hard not to want to touch him and want to watch his reactions.

I would let him if he wanted me.

Wanted her? How could he want her when she was so confused even about what to think of him? She closed her eyes.
What must he think of you? Reaching, touching, kissing. No wonder he keeps getting embarrassed!

“Goddess!” exclaimed Povre aloud. Her face grew hot from more than the sensations she was trying to ignore. “K’nt…!”

“Mmnnnn,” said K’nt in a raspy, sleepy voice. “Ohh, baby.”

He snuggled around, pulling her more firmly beneath him. Moving his head back up, he touched her throat with his lips, soft as a whisper. With tiny kisses he found his way to her mouth. Povre responded with pleasure. She loved kissing in general. Her culture had many public and private forms of kissing. It was part of their greeting rituals, part of thanking someone, part of saying goodbye. So much could be discovered and conveyed in a gesture simple or complicated.

She really enjoyed kissing with him and she had wanted to kiss him from the moment he rescued her…even more so after the kisses of the day before. When he sought entry past the barrier of her lips she opened eagerly, daring to follow the lazy motions of his tongue with hers. This way of kissing was something entirely new. She was positive not even Life Mated Sirgel couples kissed like this, with tongues inside mouths. She would have heard about it at least.

As her body heat increased so did the subtle biokinetic current naturally occurring within it. The scientist part of her noted that this was a sensation she’d hardly notice with another of her own race. But with this human, who didn’t generate that sort of output and couldn’t really absorb hers…oh Goddess. She quivered with excitement as his tongue delved deeper and he groaned from deep in his chest.

The groan brought her to her senses. As much as she wanted this, enjoyed it, it had to stop. Povre freed her hands from the tight confines of the sleeping bag and beneath the man’s body, intending to turn his head aside and awaken him completely.

Instead, she arched her back to his caresses, drove her fingers into his long brown hair, and pressed his face closer.

~~

“You’re so soft, like silky suede,” whispered Kent, brushing his eager fingers over her breasts and their hot, hard tips. “Except here,” he added on a sensual growl, and she gasped and pushed herself closer. He pulled back just a little and kissed the tip of the woman’s nose. “When did you start tasting so good, Lynn honey? I thought you didn’t like making love first thing in the morning.”