CHAPTER 6
MICAH
I awaken to a warm shaft of sunlight crossing my face. I try to sit up but my head throbs so bad I quickly lay back down.
“MIcah?”
I crack an eyelid open to see Gog hovering over me, a look of deep concern etched onto his face. I have a vague memory of him coming to get me in the pond.
“Gog…what happened? Do the Elders believe me yet?”
He kneels beside me. My eyes adjust to the gloom, making out more details. The chamber I reside in is rounded, which makes me believe it’s a hut. Gog’s hut. Indeed, his bow and arrows hang on a peg suspended about six feet up on the wall.
Pelts of exotic animals form a carpet and wall coverings. The hut smells vaguely of something close to cinnamon. Air freshener? No, a candle, burning in the center of a metal table. Gog tilts his horned head to the side as he regards me. His purple eyes pick up the ambient light and reflect it back, like a cat.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
“I have a headache.”
He nods, and offers me something in his palm. It looks like a collection of dark red berries.
“Here. Chew on these, they should help with the pain. They might also make you think a little clearer.”
“What happened?” I ask, taking the berries and popping them in my mouth. Sour as the devil’s arsehole, but I’m in too much pain to care.
“My people are introduced to the Life Tree almost from birth. They spend a long time getting acclimated to it. Without acclimation, the Elders believe that your mind was overwhelmed by the tree’s consciousness.”
“You can say that again. Trees that think are definitely beyond my ken.”
I swallow the berries. My tongue feels slightly numb, and the effect spreads up to my throbbing temples. Relief comes quickly and I sit up on the edge of…well, the edge of Gog’s bed.
“The Elders believe you. Not only that, but they believe me, too.”
My mind flashes back to the Test. I remember it all with startling clarity, Gog struggling to save the life of the Chief’s son.
“My god, Gog, I didn’t know! Why didn't you tell me?”
He hangs his head.
“I have been pariah for so long, I suppose I got used to keeping everything inside.”
“Well, that bullshit stops right now,” I say, taking his hand in both of my own. He looks up, lips slightly parted. “From now on, you’re going to share with me what’s going on in your head. Understand? You can’t keep it all bottled up. Suffering Shorcu, Gog. No wonder you’re so damn sad all the time.”
A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.
“I am seldom sad when I am with you, Micah.”
My heart does that fluttery thing again. Damn, he’s so amazing, and heroic, and, yes, gorgeous. I almost can’t think when I look into those incredible purple eyes.
“Okay, stop being sweet for a minute. Otherwise I might kiss you again, and I need to pee far too urgently for that to happen.”
“The privy is beyond that archway,” he says, pointing at one of the hide coverings. I now realize they’re not decoration, they function as doors.
The privy is surprisingly comfortable, though my legs kind of dangle off the end of the commode. It’s sort of like an outhouse, except that an underground stream appears to rush and burble beneath. A clever way to achieve indoor plumbing, used by some of ancient Earth cultures as well.
When I return, I find Gog setting out a cold meal. Preserved meats, wedges of something that looks like cheese, and slices of crusty bread make my mouth water.
“How long was I out?” I ask.
“For all of last night and half of today.”
“Man. That’s the best sleep I’ve had in, well, ever.”
He watches while I try the food. The meat has a flavor akin to salt. Some similar preservative mineral, probably. But it’s palatable enough, and the little cheese things turn out to be delightfully creamy and sweet.
The bread, though, is unleavened and kind of hard. I have to soak it in my cup of water to get it to a point I can actually ingest it.
“I’m sorry about your parents, Micah.”
My gaze snaps up to him.
“What? How did you…oh, the Tree.”
I sigh and shrug.
“It was a long time ago, Gog. I’ve learned to cope.”
“But it is still a terrible tragedy. I know all too well. My own parents were lost in a Skuyr attack when I was quite young.”
“Oh, Gog. We really are a mess, aren’t we?”
“No. I am a mess. You are perfect.”
I blow out a razz.
“Oh please, I’m anything but. I’m a neurotic, persnickety nerd who runs her mouth too much.”
“I disagree. Despite your many tragedies, you remain good hearted.”
“How do you know? We only met a few days ago.”
He shrugs those massive shoulders.
“I just know.”
“Well, thanks. I think you’re good hearted, too.”
He smiles, and we finish our meal. Over the next few days, I slowly acclimate to Redcliffe village. My arrival has caused quite a stir, and yet the Drokan keep a respectful distance. I know they have questions, I mean, who wouldn’t?
Chief Ral sends his fastest scouts to look for more survivors of the Precursor. Unfortunately, it soon becomes clear that my escape pod was the only one that made it off before the ship crossed over a vast sea.
The scouts estimate the ship probably landed on a different continent. The Drokan can sail ships, but it’s cultural and the desert dwelling Redcliffe clan has little use for boats. I do want to try and find them, but for the time being I decide it’s best to try and make the best of my situation.
Obviously the Drokan don’t have the tech I need to call home, let alone get off this planet. My speciality is cultures, not technology. If I were an engineer I might be able to figure something out, but that’s not going to happen.
Besides, I find living with Gog to be oth fun and rewarding. When I get him out of his shell, he can be downright playful. The village seems to be warming up to him again. He’s even tapped to instruct young warriors in the use of weapons.
After about a week as humans reckon time, I’ve stopped wearing my stifling flight suit. I dress like one of the Drokan, meaning a halter top and a loincloth and boots. At least I get to work on my tan. I don’t mind the new clothes.
Especially when I notice the effect they have on Gog. He stares at me a lot when he thinks I’m not looking. I wish he’d stop being so distant and just make a move already. The chemistry between us is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Or maybe I’m wrong, and he doesn’t really like me. Maybe he’d prefer a Drokan woman. One of the greatest mysteries of the Galaxy is the way that the different sapient species can interbred and produce fertile offspring. I served with a half-vakutan woman on the Precursor.
But that doesn’t mean the Drokan know this. Maybe he needs heirs. The more I learn about their culture, though, the less I think that’s likely.
About a week and a half after my arrival at the village, I step out of Gog’s hut with a basket balanced on my side. Some of the Drokan go beyond the walls of their village to gather edible plants and roots. I have been going out with them the past few days. It makes me feel like I’m contributing something, even though my basket is half the size of the others.
I stop by the training ring in the center of the village to see Gog hard at work. I don’t want to disturb him while he’s instructing the younglings. He’s good at it, too, patient and yet exacting, eking the best out of his students.
“He’s one big fellow, isn’t he?”
I turn to see Kul standing beside me. He, Reor, and Talfa seem to have adopted me and Gog into their little friendship circle. Kul’s right about Gog: He really is big, even compared to the massive Drokan.
“Yeah, he certainly is, but so gentle when he needs to be. He’s a good man.”
Kul seems to hear the longing in my voice.
“You care for him.”
It’s not a question, it’s a statement.
“I do. Very much.”
“You should tell him.”
“Oh no, I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”
Kul stares at me for a long time.
“You are not of this world, but you belong here, Micah. Everyone can see that. Everyone can see that you and Gog have engaged in Eyes Meeting Eyes.”
“Eyes meeting eyes? Yeah, that’s kind of a given in conversation. I mean, I’m meeting your eyes right now.”
I blink pointedly and he grins.
“No, I mean something specific. When you first met Gog, did you feel anything strange?”
I cross my arms defensively over my chest.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Did you feel as if you could sense what he was feeling, what he was thinking? Almost as if you were inside of his head and heart?”
A chill runs down my spine, despite the day’s heat. That’s what I experienced to a T. When I don’t reply, Kul nods.
“That is what I thought. Kro has decreed that you and he are fated to be together. Stop worrying about it and start making babies.”
He turns and walks away from me while I gasp indignantly at his back. I can’t believe he said that to me. Then again, this isn’t my culture and the Drokan are rather direct. Or maybe it’s just Kul.
Kul’s words are writ large in my brain all day. The more I think about it, the more I realize how much I ache when I think about Gog. It hurts in my chest because it feels like there should be something more between us.
I don’t believe in that fated mate stuff. But a few short weeks ago, I didn’t believe in telepathic trees, either. Call it fate, call it luck, call it whatever you want. All I know is random chance seems to have placed me with Gog.
That night, we dine under the stars with most of the village. The Drokan often prepare their food en masse, with everyone eating together. Chief Ral’s platter is enormous, almost four feet wide. No way could he eat all that food, though.
Rather, he does not touch a morsel on his plate until every man, woman, and child has eaten. If there is not enough to go around, he sends the platter on rounds through the village until everyone is fed, or it comes back empty. Usually, though, there’s plenty for him to eat at the end of it all.
I could write an entire master’s thesis on their culture. It defies everything we’ve been taught about ‘primitive’ species.
“You have some sauce on your chin,” I say to Gog.
“Oh?”
He wipes at his face, but misses it.
“Did I get it?”
“No.”
Chuckling, I use a cloth to wipe his face clean. My fingers linger against his warm skin. His own hand moves up and closes over it.
“Micah.”
He says my name with such reverence and devotion, it makes my head spin. His eyes flare with desire. Gog is not hiding anything from me now. Not within his gaze at any rate.
“Gog. Do you want to go home now?”
I’m asking if he wants to go back to the hut. Technically. But my tone and my gaze make it clear that there’s a lot more on my mind than that.
“Yes.”
He offers me his hand. I take it, heart beating a mile a minute in my chest. I think this is going to happen. Oh god I hope so.
Gog and I walk through the streets of the village in silence. I don’t think there’s anything else to say right now. Not with words.
We reach the hut and enter. Gog lights crystals, giving the room a bright glow. I reach up and turn them down a little bit dimmer. More intimate, if you will, and I guess I’m self conscious.
Gog turns away from me, presenting his broad back. I’m worried that he’s getting cold feet. But then his belt falls away, followed by the loincloth. He has a damn cute tush. Even his rear end has muscles.
He turns around, fully nude to me for the first time. Gog’s purple eyes burn a hole right through my soul. My gaze drops inexorably down, past the chiseled perfection of his thickly muscled chest, past the hard knots of muscle in his abdomen, and further down still.
The thick pillars of his thighs frame his semi-flaccid member. I see it hardening right in front of my eyes. I swallow the lump in my throat as Gog speaks.
“Are you sure you want this, Micah?”
“Jesus Christ, just grab me or something--”
He crosses the distance between us in a flash. Gog sweeps me up into his embrace and crushes my lips with a kiss. My eyes widen at first, hands reflexively pushing on his chest. But after the surprise wanes, my own passions ignite. My eyes close and I knead his chest, kissing him right back.
Gog kisses me harder, deeper, taking control. I relax in his arms, giving myself over to him fully. His cock brushes against me. My hand darts down as of its own accord and encircles the girth. I feel his pulse throbbing against my fingertips.
His mouth drops to my neck, kissing and licking, animal grunts escaping his throat. I cry out, touching his horns by accident.
“Sorry,” I gasp. “I know I’m not supposed to touch your horns.”
He lifts his mouth from my body. My nerves scream in disappointment. Gog’s lavender eyes are filled with amusement as he speaks.
“Our horns are an erogenous zone. That is why the others laughed when you held onto them all that time ago.”
Then he dives back into mauling my neck, and I grab his horns. He stiffens against me, moaning into my flesh with pleasure.
“I’ve wanted to touch you, for so long,” I groan. The delectable sensations shooting through my skin are nothing short of miraculous. This is everything I’ve dreamed it would be.
Gog’s hands slip around to my back. He undoes the hasp on my halter and tugs it free, baring my breasts. He rears up, gaze dropping to my chest. I cup them and offer myself to him.
“Do you like what you see?”
“Perfection,” he growls, before planting an intense kiss on my mouth. I moan into his kiss as his hands explore my breasts. I can feel the power in his hands, but I know he would never hurt me. He only wants to make me feel good.
Gog kisses and licks his way down to my breasts. Hi mouth envelops my nipple, sucking in a very sensual way, not like a hoover. Gog is on his knees now, but that just puts his head a short distance beneath my own. He’s freaking huge.
Gog’s arms encircle me, cupping my lower back as he gives each of my breasts his full attention. I continue to stroke and explore his horns with my fingers. I find a spot near his ear that seems to make him suck even more intensely on my pliant flesh.
I love him enjoying my body like this. Why did we wait so long for this moment? Time is fleeting in this galaxy. I give myself over to the exultant thrill of his touch, his caress, his supple and skilled tongue.
Gog raises his eyes to meet my own for a moment. He gets what I can only describe as a decidedly dirty look in his lavender gaze. His fingers busy themselves with the leather thongs holding my loincloth in place.
It comes free, and slides down to my thighs. I shimmy and shake until they fall on the floor. He gently pushes me against the wall, then crouches down to stare pointedly between my legs.
Gog’s nostrils flare, and his eyes close as a low, rumbling growl escapes his giant maw.
“You smell so delicious. I must taste you.”
My pulse goes into overdrive. Every nerve in my body is screaming yes at the top of their lungs as he pushes my thighs apart and shoves his face in my pussy. I cry out, hands grasping his horns, as he nuzzles me with nose and mouth. Every molten exhalation against my skin revs my system up another notch.
Using hisd big fingers, Gog pushes my outer lips apart, seeing me at my most vulnerable. I’m dripping wet. I’ve never been dripping wet in my life with any man. His breath falls over my clitorial mound and I shiver like I”m in a blizzard.
His tongue glides through the groove of my wetness, gathering up my juices on the way. The tip just teases my clit before he drops down for another long, slow lick. I’ve never experienced anything like this. It’s like everything he does is pure magic.
Gog rises to his feet, lifting me on his shoulders. A deep moan forces its way out of my mouth. He plants my back against one of the hides on his wall. His lips envelope my outer labia, sucking up my juices like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
The pulses of fire throbbing from between my legs shoot up to my brain with ever increasing speed. When he latches onto my clitoris and suckles, I fly right over the edge of climax. I know our neighbors hear my scream. I hope they don’t think I’m being murdered. Somehow I doubt that, though. Everyone seemed to know about me and Gog except for, well, me and Gog.
He easily sets me down on his bed, lifting his glistening face from between my thighs. Gog watches as I shiver through all of the aftershocks, scarcely able to even think.
“Micah,” he rumbles. “I love you.”
My eyes snap open. I look up into his violet gaze, and I know that I can’t lie.
“I love you, Gog.”
He crawls up, covering my body with his massive form and hugging me tight. I wrap my arms and legs around him, burying my face in his shoulder. God help me, I’m glad I didn’t find a way home yet. I don’t know if I’d go home if there were a legit chance.
He lifts his head, and we stare into each other’s eyes. I feel the glow of his love, and the heat of his desire. I reach down between us and grasp his hard shaft.
“Make love to me, Gog,” I beg. “Please.”
Gog mashes his mouth on top of my own with a fierce kiss. He gets up on his knees, using them to push my thighs apart. Gog grips his shaft and guides it between my wide open lips. My eyes squeeze shut as he glides inside, filling me with his considerable but perfect girth. When he slides in all the way, I let out a sharp gasp, and my eyes snap open.
Gog thrusts into me for the first time. I gasp, arching my back to let him in even deeper. My pussy convulses, trying to draw him in more. It’s perfect, just perfect. I never want this night to end.
His hands grip my hips as he rocks into me again and again. I work with him, synching up with his movements until we become a well oiled machine whose only labor is pleasure. The fire builds and builds, scalding and searing my nerves with the ecstasy of perfection.
Gog’s grunts come faster, just like his thrusts. He moves with my reactions, finding the best way to please me. His powerful body tenses taut as a bowstring. I know he wants to let go. I grind into him, a cacophony of moans and cries shooting out of me and echoing off the stone walls of the hut.
Gog roars as he releases his seed inside of me. His cock throbs like mad, driving me over the edge of an even bigger orgasm than before. I think my soul comes out of my body for a moment. When it slams back into corporeal reality, I scream my throat raw with ecstasy. Again and again, I reach a crescendo only to rise to even greater heights.
At last, he collapses on top of me, spent, as I continue to writhe in delight. I wrap my legs around him, my arms, gasping out follow up climaxes into his ear until I, too, am spent.
“Gog,” I gasp. “That was wonderful.”
“Yes, I agree. You are wonderful.”
He kisses me, and we snuggle up together. Outside, the sounds of revelry continue. Dinner has turned into an impromptu party.
We have our own party in the hut, spending the time between heated encounters talking about nothing and everything. I never dreamed Gog would be such a beast. I guess he really is the best in his village…best warrior of course.