Page 57 of Caveman Alien's Heat
My heart swells. I cup his strong jaw, thumb stroking one of his fangs and marveling at the sharpness of it. “It does. It’s all ours.”
He kisses me slowly and deeply, as he shifts his hips and presses the thick head of his larger cock against my entrance. I’m so ready for him it’s an ache deep inside. I swear I can smell my own arousal over the sulfur of the springs.
He slides in with one smooth, slow thrust, filling me completely. The stretch is intense but extremely welcome, my body opening for him because it knows what’s coming. A deep moan escapes me as he settles deep, our bodies perfectly joined.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs against my lips, starting a slow, rolling rhythm. The smaller cock strokes my clit in gentle, perfect circles with every movement.
I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him as close as possible while pleasure builds between us. “Yes,” I breathe, kissing him again. “I am. I’m only yours. And you’re mine.”
That last part makes him draw his breath in sharply and he freezes, boring into me with his ice-blue eyes. “I’m yours?”
“Yes,” I groan, thrusting against him, wanting him to continue. “You’re mine.”
“We’re each other’s,” he marvels as he pushes in hard. “It’sfantastic.”
Our lovemaking is unhurried now, tender and deep. Skin against skin, breath mingling with steam, soft words shared between kisses. The heat from the rock and springs keeps us warm as snow falls silently just beyond the rocks. My climax rises gently at first, then crashes over me in long, trembling waves. I cling to him, crying out softly as pleasure floods every part of me.He follows soon after, groaning my name into my neck as he pulses deep inside, filling me with heat while the smaller cock continues its sweet caress.
We stay locked together afterward, breathing each other in, safe in our own private world of steam and furs.
“Let’s never leave,” I breathe. “We’ll just stay here. We have water and warmth. And iron. We need nothing more.”
“No shamans,” Nator’ax rumbles. “No strange looks.”
I stay close to Nator’ax as we dress, reluctant to let go of the warmth of the spring. For a little while, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of us. There was no tribe, no danger, no expectations. But the mountains are still there when I look up. They’re tall and dark, with only the peaks partly covered in snow. The darkness has to mean that the sides are so steep, the snow can’t gather.
I glance toward the black cliffs rising beyond the springs, their faces sheer and jagged, streaked with ice that never melts. We’re in three-quarters of a cauldron, with the mountains forming the deep sides, and the only way out leading straight to the Gar village.
“Do you think,” I start, pulling my fur tighter around me, “this is a good way to escape? Over the mountains?”
Nator’ax doesn’t answer immediately. He’s scanning the terrain again, the same way he always does. He keeps measuring and judging, never truly at rest. It’s reassuring, but also unnerving—he always expects danger, and he is probably right. I follow his gaze, trying to see what he sees.
“There are no tracks,” he says at last, as he tightens his sword belt. “The snow shows no footprints going that way. And the Gar aren’t careful about leaving tracks.”
I frown. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? No one comes this way.”
“It’s not a good sign for escape. Not here. If there was a path, even a dangerous one, something would use it. Small prey, hunters.” He gestures toward the cliffs. “Nothing goes there. Nothing comes from there.”
I study them more carefully now. Up close, they’re worse than they looked from below. They’re too steep, too smooth in places, too broken in others. Trained mountaineers from Earth could probably climb up, using ropes, pegs, and all kinds of equipment. Everyone else would need a helicopter.
“And if we did manage to get up there?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Then we would still be nowhere, with no food and no roof over our heads. Just more ice and stone.” His gaze comes back to me. “And the saucer is the other direction.”
“So if we run…” I say slowly.
“We run back toward it,” he finishes. “And then we hope it will work. Because there’s nothing in that direction, either. Just the glacier and the mountains beyond.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The wind moves through the rocks with a low, hollow sound, like something breathing under the earth. I don’t like it.
“All right,” I say finally, forcing a small nod. “Then at least we know.”
He gives a single nod in return. “We know. The chief was being truthful.”
He gathers the red iron stones in a pouch he fashions from a part of his fur, and then we start back.
The walk feels different now. The light fades quickly, the cold settling in deeper as the sun slips behind the mountains. We don’t talk much. Not because anything’s wrong, exactly, but because something has changed. The springs felt like a pause, but now we’re walking back to the real world, and it’s a cold world in more ways than one.
By the time the village comes into view, it’s already dark.
