“Mmm, Kila… you know I forgot,” she says while I tug down the waist band of her bottoms. Unlike those mind-boggling see-through ‘tights’, it seems strong enough that I will not tear them. She isn’t wearing the extra undergarments beneath, which pleases me. As soon as her wet pink slit is visible, I caress it and run my finger through the slippery folds. She shivers and looks down at me, eyes lidded and lusty.

“You’re teasing me,” she accuses, as I slowly play with her. I am enjoying the heat of her, and the way her juice smells and feels.

“I did ask you a question,” I say, poising my thumb over her hooded little flesh button. What did she call it? “Don’t you want me to touch you here?”

“Yes,” she groans. Her entire cunt twitches. Great Ka, I have her right where I want her. “Yes, touch my clit… Please, baby.”

Ah yes, she calls it her clit. A strange word, but I like it nevertheless. I also like to hear her pleas. It’s making my hard cock ache for her when she whines like that, so needful.

“No,” I say, slowly running my thumb over her clit. “That’s not the question I need an answer for. I asked you how often you touch yourself and think of me.”

“You psycho,” she laughs, but it cuts off as a choking noise when I slip my finger inside her. I had hoped only to coat my finger in her wetness to drag over the rest of her, but I feel her cunt clench. Does she like this too, I wonder? I thrust her experimentally, leaning back to watch her face for her response. She grinds against me and moans.

“Tell me,” I urge her, pulling my finger out and teasing her clit once again.

“Oh, God,” she sighs. “Almost every day, okay? What do you think? You just kiss me and dry hump me in a stairwell every day… A girl’s gonna get horny.”

This thought thrills me. I now press two fingers inside and thrust her. The position makes it easy for me to press against her clit with my thumb at the same time. Once I begin this combination, she shrieks in approval, throwing her head back and clutching the couch back for support. I can’t help but picture her on this very couch, all alone, fingering herself until she comes. I flicker my thumb even faster over her. The sound of my fingers thrusting her becomes a delicious squelching noise. It makes me want to sit her over my lips and suck out the juices.

Time for that later. For now, I watch her writhe over my body, climbing higher and seeking her climax.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she’s chanting as I fuck her with my hand harder and harder. When she does reach her limit, her mouth makes a soundless circle as she tenses up. Her fingers dig into fabric of the couch as I continue to play with her all the way through her pleasure. Finally, she snaps her little hand over my own and taps me frantically. “Ahh, ah, give me a moment, Kila.”

I pull my hand away and take a moment to lick her juices from my fingers. The taste of her is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. “I did not realize I could make you climax with my fingers inside you like that. Will you still need my cock now that I’ve fucked you with my hand?”

She giggles and scoots off me. “Oh no,” she says, “I need your cock more than ever now.”

I like the sound of this. “Good,” I say, “I cannot have my cock become jealous of my hand when they’ve been each other’s only companions for this past month. But at least now I know I am not alone in this…”

“How does an alien get such a dirty mind? Weren’t you a virgin a month ago?” she muses, shimmying her bottoms all the way off. She kneels beside me. “Do I have that effect on people?”

“People?” I say. “No, you have this effect on me and me alone, my beautiful Ella. You see this must be why you like to see your stories on weetches and weezards. Because you also make spells.”

“Cast spells,” she corrects, with the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Witches cast spells.”

“You have cast your spell on me,” I tell her. I lean over so that our faces are level and close enough to kiss. “A love spell. I love you, Ella. This is my love confession to you.” I take her small face between my palms and kiss her, as wildly as they do in the movies she gives me.

When I release her, her eyes are glistening. She throws her arms around me and buries her face in my shoulder. I hear her muffled voice go, “Oh, Kila… Promise me you won’t put that fucking thing in your head again. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I say, running my fingers over her back. Her tears tend to confuse me, but they cry often in movies, so I’ve taken it to be a rather open-ended human response. Is she happy? Is she sad? My stomach clenches at the realization that she did not also confess her love to me. I suppose it might not be a strictly reciprocal ritual, but I wonder what holds her back. Does she not feel as I do? I am not certain I could live another day without her, despite the thirty odd passings I spent before her.

No matter. She is in my arms now, and this is what I will focus on.

We embrace for a minute or so, and then her whimpers turn to small hiccups of laughter.

“What is it?” I ask her, further perplexed.

“I was just thinking about how you said you would ‘strategize’ over telling me you love me,” she says, finally letting me go to wipe at the corners of her eyes.

“Yes,” I shrug. “If there is a battle to be won, then one must strategize.”

“And your strategy was… Give her an amazing orgasm and then go in for the kill,” she says, blue eyes sparkling at me. I suppose she thinks it’s funny that my training is being put to such an un-war-like usage.

“Precisely. I guess I’ve miscalculated. That is the way of it.”

She frowns, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to… Look, I… I just need time. I’m sorry.”

“Do not worry yourself. We will have time. I will make sure of it,” I tell her. “I am not happy that a threat to your life is what brought us together today, but I will not stand to be locked away from you any longer. I am keeping my foot on the ground.”

“You’re putting your foot down, you mean?”

“You find it very amusing when I misunderstand human phrases,” I say. “You enjoy laughing at me?”

She giggles again. “Of course, baby. It’s hilarious.”

“There is one that should be discussed! Why do you call me baby like a small child, an infant? Is that not odd?” While I’m talking, I pull at the edges of her small top, which is all that remains on her body. Every time she laughs, she shakes, calling my eyes to her chest. It’s time to uncover it. She obliges me and tosses it away. I join her on the floor, sliding off the couch until I am seated with her between my legs.

“I guess it’s a little odd, but baby is just saying someone is precious and they belong to you, right? And you take care of them,” she reasons. I brush my fingers over her bare breasts, taking in the contrast between our skin tones. She has no sheen to her, and she has that matte tan color like a smooth swathe of warm sandy beach. My fingers are cool and gray by comparison, shimmering silver where the light hits. She takes my preoccupation as an opportunity to begin removing my pants. I wear Kar’Kali fatigue trousers, which zip open when she begins fiddling with the closure.

“Mmm, I do like to take care of you,” I say, thumbing over her standing nipple, darker in color than the rest of her— not quite pink and not quite brown.

“But now it’s my turn,” she purrs. “To take care of you.”

She grasps my cock in her hand and slowly caresses me. Her lips crash against me as I groan. Then she has two hands on me, pumping my aching length with delicious pressure. Her nipples brush against my chest as she leans forward. Our tongues entwine. It is a full sensory overload. All I can do is clutch her and pant like an animal, my hips begging to pump and thrust against her.

“I think I’m going to ride you,” she tells me, bending to pull the pants away, down my legs until I help her to be rid of them entirely.