WebNovels

Chapter 10 - Hot Pocket

"Show me." The words resonated with a vulnerability I wouldn't have thought him capable of, a stark contrast to the imposing figure he usually presented. He wasn't just asking for a demonstration; he was asking for an experience. He was opening himself to a world he clearly didn't comprehend, and in that moment, all my own fear melted away, replaced by an overwhelming tenderness.

My hand, still resting on his impossibly cold cheek, traced the sharp line of his jaw. His silver eyes, fixed on mine, were no longer clouded with confusion but held a deep, almost desperate curiosity. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away, but instead leaned infinitesimally into my touch, a silent invitation.

Kissing him again felt like a regression. His body had already spoken, a language raw and primal, demanding a deeper connection than the tentative brush of lips. This wasn't about romance, not yet. This was about sensation, about breaking through the icy walls he'd built around himself, showing him the vibrant, messy reality of being, of feeling.

My fingers threaded into the silky strands of his hair, pulling him gently closer. His breath hitched, a faint, metallic scent wafting from him – like starlight on cold steel. Instead of my lips, it was my forehead that first met his, a quiet press of skin against skin. I wanted him to feel the warmth, the life radiating from me, without the immediate shock of a kiss. He shivered, a subtle tremor that ran through his rigid frame.

"Listen," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, "and feel."

Slowly, deliberately, my hand slid from his cheek, down the sculpted line of his throat, feeling the strong pulse beat beneath the chill of his skin. I could sense the tension coiling in him, a taut wire of anticipation and apprehension. He stared at me, unblinking, every fibre of his being focused on the journey of my touch.

My fingers hesitated at the collar of his tunic, then slipped beneath the smooth, unfamiliar fabric. It was a bold move, an undeniable crossing of a boundary, but his gaze remained locked with mine, a silent permission. The moment my palm made direct contact with his bare chest, over the intricate, glowing pathways, a collective gasp ripped from his throat. It wasn't the raw, almost pained groan from before, but something deeper, more guttural, tinged with a profound surprise that was almost exhilarating.

His body arched, almost imperceptibly, against me. I felt the powerful thrum of energy beneath my hand, the shimmering patterns intensifying under my touch, radiating a warmth that was entirely new, a counterpoint to his inherent coldness. It was like touching a living, breathing constellation.

I leaned in, pressing my body closer, letting my warmth seep into him. My other hand found its way to his waist, pulling him flush against me. The contrast was stark: my soft, yielding form against his hard, crystalline structure. But beneath the cold, I could feel the tremor escalating, a rapid fluttering of something alive and new.

His eyes were wide, silver pools reflecting the disbelief and wonder warring within him. "This…" he exhaled, the word a mere breath against my hair, "this is… overwhelming." He wasn't resisting, not truly. His hands, which had been resting stiffly at his sides, now moved, slowly, uncertainly, to grip my shoulders. His fingers were still cold, but the pressure was firm, seeking an anchor.

"It's just feeling," I murmured, my lips brushing his ear, sending another shiver through him. "It's what connection is. It's allowing yourself to feel it all." I pushed a little closer, letting my hips press against his, a silent invitation for him to acknowledge the full extent of the unfamiliar sensations building between us.

A low, vibrating hum began to emanate from him, a sound I'd never heard before, that seemed to resonate deep in my own bones. His grip on my shoulders tightened, seeking purchase. His eyes, still staring into mine, were no longer analytical. They were wild, lost in a storm of sensation.

He was a being of pure logic, of calculated order, and I was showing him chaos. Glorious, beautiful chaos. And in his eyes, I saw not fear, but a desperate, yearning hunger for more of it. He was a universe of ice, and I was his sun, melting him, one stolen sensation at a time. And he was letting me. He was asking me to.

i swallowed, "you want something more?" i was flustered and looked away, but my eyes looked at him, his eyes gleamed with curiosity with a bit of plead, it made me even hot.

"First, lift my leg" he looked at me questioningly, but did it anyway. he hooked his arm in my popliteal, "and?" i swallowed again i pointed below "that thing, put..... inside" i almost choked saying it, then pointed at my butt hole "here" i did it...i really did it....i cant believe I'm doing my first time with a man, an alien at that.

air crackled with a sudden, palpable tension. The humming intensified, a low, throbbing vibration that ran through both of us, as if the very molecules between us were resonating with a new, urgent frequency. His grip tightened on my leg, the cool metal of his hand a stark contrast to the growing heat blossoming in my core. The blatant instruction hung in the air, stripped bare of any artifice, a raw and honest desire laid bare. He didn't flinch, didn't question, but his silver eyes widened, reflecting a mixture of awe and anticipation.

He seemed to be processing the mechanics of it, the physicality of the act, his brow furrowed in concentration. Then, a flicker of understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by a deep, almost reverent curiosity. He was a student, absorbing knowledge, but this was a lesson unlike any he'd ever encountered.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he shifted my leg higher, his movements precise yet surprisingly gentle. He seemed acutely aware of the vulnerability, the delicate balance of the situation. My breath hitched. The anticipation was a tangible thing, a heavy weight pressing down on me.

My hands instinctively tightened on his shoulders, my knuckles white. I watched his face, searching for any sign of hesitation, of discomfort, but there was only intense focus, an almost childlike curiosity. He was exploring, discovering, and in that moment, I felt a surge of protectiveness, a desire to guide him, to ensure his first experience was one of pleasure and connection.

He lowered his gaze, following the line of my body, his silver eyes lingering on the juncture where we were about to become one. A faint flush, the faintest hint of rose, bloomed on his cheeks, a testament to the turmoil of emotions churning within him.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement that felt both tentative and inevitable, he moved. There was no force, no aggression, only a measured, controlled exploration. I gasped, the sensation overwhelming, a tide of heat flooding through me, chasing away the cold that clung to him.

He paused, his eyes lifting to meet mine. "Is this... correct?" he asked, his voice a low, husky rumble, thick with a newfound awareness.

I swallowed, the word catching in my throat. "Yes," I managed to whisper, my voice trembling. "Just... feel."

He closed his eyes then, and with a deep breath, he pressed further. The sensation was intense, a burning stretching, a merging of two disparate beings into a single, unified whole. A moan escaped my lips, a sound I didn't recognize, carried away on a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

His body shuddered, a deep, primal tremor that ran through him, shaking him to his core. A low growl, a sound of pure animalistic satisfaction, rumbled in his chest.

And then, he began to move.

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