I look away before the spear connects.

Though I felt intense relief when the thrown spear missed Proximus, I don’t want to see him kill another man with his spear.

From the roar of the crowd that erupts, I know exactly when Scipius dies, even with my eyes closed shut.

When I look back up I see Proximus raising his blood-stained spear skyward, basking in the roar of the crowd.

I feel detached from everything. Culture shock can’t even begin to describe the experience of being suddenly thrown into an alien world. Should I really be proud of Proximus now? Should I really feel relieved that he can go on to find a buyer for me? Should I drench myself in more stinking blood and feel happy for Proximus’ restored honor? Should I make a bunch of alien girlfriends and brag to them about my boyfriend’s great honor and strength in skullspear duels?

I don’t know what I actually want, just that I likely won’t get it. It makes everything feel hopeless, and I know that even though the problem of the duel is resolved, another problem will present itself almost immediately.

Proximus soon comes back to me, and he’s beaming. There’s blood on his shoulder, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Now no one can doubt I am the greatest warrior,” he says.

I sigh.

“Scipius wanted you,” he says. “I fought to keep you. It’s why I truly couldn’t lose.”

“So it’s about me then?” I ask.

I pick up the thermos of ratskunk blood, remembering that I should put it back on.

“No,” Proximus growls, knocking it out of my hand.

He grabs my wrist and pins me to the wall.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.

“Taking my prize,” he growls.

I didn’t think he would. I thought he’d decided I was off limits, so I’d put the idea out of my mind. Nearly kissing me just before the duel was further than I thought he’d go, and I wrote it off to me wiping off the scent combined with his possible fear of death.

“What if,” I say, my voice heavy, “What if I don’t want you to?”

He takes my chin in his hand, tilting my head back and exposing the softness of my neck. I hear him breath in deeply. “You want me to,” he says. “You want it just as bad as I do.”

“Don’t you need to sell me?” I ask meekly, wishing he’d get it over with and kiss me, ending all possible protests.

“I’m a rich man now,” he says. “Scipius had more than I thought. I can afford to keep you.”

“I can afford to keep you,” I say back to him, mocking his gruff voice and accent. “Saying that isn’t exactly the way to a woman’s heart.”

He presses me with his forearm against the wall, but pulls his face back from mine. “You want me to touch your heart?”

He runs a finger down my body, still over my mantle. I wish the damn thing were off already.

He stops just above my breasts and glares at me.

“My heart is on the other side,” I whisper to him.

I start to wonder–and fear–that there might be some other anatomical differences. I’ve decided that I will give myself to him. It’s not a rational decision, but I can’t resist him now. Not in this moment. I want him to have me, and I want to surrender to him. If he’s going to own me, then he may as well truly stake his claim.

But what if...what if he lifts up that loin cloth and…

“I see you looking,” he says.

He tears my mantle away then, throwing it to the stone ground of our chamber. The rain and roar of the crowd is audible in the background. Our chamber is dark and unlit, and despite the open window leading into the arena, no one could see us unless they came right up to the arch and peered in. The only people down on the floor are the judge and the fighters themselves, and they are much too busy to come peep in on us.

When he peels off my teal suit, a cold chill hits me and sucks the breath from me. Proximus pulls me into him and wraps his strong arms around me. His warmth envelopes me and protects me from the cold. I lay my head against his chest, and my flushed cheek burns against his impossibly broad chest.

He throws me down onto the ground, and I feel the cloth of the mantle meet my back rather than the cold stone.

He presses both of his hands onto the stone on either side of my head, supporting the weight of his glorious teal body above me. His eyes shine down on me like purple jewels, and the chiseled planes of his face favor me with a smile.

“You said you couldn’t do this,” I whisper. “Are you sure?”

He nods, and his eyes drink in my curves as they scan across my naked body. “And you said I’m not to touch you.”

“Can we?” I ask. “Do it?”

He seems confused at the question, and I decide to settle the question once and for all. I reach toward his loincloth, and I dip my hand beneath that cloth. I reach, nearly terrified of what I may or may not find. Then I feel it. It’s first just a warmth radiating onto my palm, and then I touch the soft skin. But only the skin is soft, he’s rock-hard beneath, and I can feel the veiny contour of his manhood as I run my hand up and down his length. Without seeing it, and just feeling it, it feels distinctly human. The only thing alien about the thing between Proximus’ legs is its immense size. I wrap my fingers around it, and I can’t even press my index finger to my thumb.

“Jesus,” I whisper. “So it’s true what they say about guys with big horns.”

His violet eyes are rolled back into his head as I run my hand up and down his generous length while squeezing his impossible girth. But he meets my eyes once again and tilts his head. “How did you hear this?”

I laugh. “We say it on Earth too.”

“Men on Earth have no horns,” he says.

I reach down his shaft and find his balls. I’m relieved to find just two of them.

“Let me see it,” I whisper.

He tears his loincloth off and throws it to the side. His cock is teal, as I’d expected, and were it tan or brown or black, I’d think of it as the greatest cock on Earth. But it’s beyond Earth and human anatomy. Just as the rest of Proximus body is like a more ideal version of the male form, so too is his manhood.

My only fear is whether it will even fit.

I grip him again, not wanting to let go. The sight of my tiny hand on that massive and wondrous thing makes me even more soaking wet than I already was. The roar of the crowd erupts, and I can almost imagine they are cheering that I’m finally doing what my body knew it wanted to do ever since I first laid eyes on Proximus.

I feel Proximus pulling away from me, and I feel a sudden fear that he’s going to change his mind, but then he reaches and tugs at my teal suit. It barely moves off my body, but then when I reach up to touch it, as if the suit knows that I want to remove it, it goes entirely slack. Proximus peels me out of it and he kisses hungrily down my bare belly. He cups my breasts as he kisses down my body, and I squirm and writhe with impatience, praying he’s moving toward where I think he is.

His fingers reach my nipples just as his mouth touches my outer lips. My hips buck up, and Proximus sinks his fingers into the flesh of my thighs, then pulls me back down. His lips lock onto my pussy, and his tongue runs across my wet folds.

I pull my shoulders back and curl upward, my breasts heaving back. My hips move uncontrollably, desperate to feel his tongue and lips against my most sensitive parts.

He finds my clit just when I need him to. Just when the desire and pressure becomes uncontrollable. For a brief moment he presses his tongue with too much pressure, but as soon as I twitch, he pulls back and licks me gently and tenderly, until the warmth building up within me makes me forget I’m on a planet slowly freezing beneath a dying sun.

He moves exactly how I want him to. It’s nothing like any human man has ever done to me. Human men always focus on the wrong spot, or press too hard, or hit the right spot for a moment only to lose it an instant later. Proximus worships my pussy as if he were born to do it. He hits me in all the right places, and he growls with desire as he drinks up my wetness.

It doesn’t take long. It’s the only downside of him being so skilled: I cum too soon. The orgasm hits me like a runaway truck, and it’s just as hard to slow down. My body jolts upward, and Proximus is barely able to move in rhythm with me to keep his mouth locked onto my wetness. I writhe and moan and squeal. I scream his name so loud that I fear the roaring crowds will hear me and stop. I fear that two men fighting to the death will drop their weapons and come together to see what could be making such a loud noise.

The ecstatic wave that blasts across me pushes away all fears and doubts, and I collapse down onto the mantle, I realize warm tears are streaming down my face.

“What’s wrong?” Proximus asks, pulling me into him.

His warmth is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt. The afterglow feels like the whole planet is vibrating within me, and his warmth protects it and intensifies it. I smile and laugh even as he looks at me in confusion.

“It was incredible,” I finally manage to whisper. “You must have done that so many times to be so good, I mean–”

“I’ve never done this,” he says. “Our females do not have this.”

He touches my wetness, and I writhe in pleasure. My eyes roll back into my head.

Then I realize what he said. “What do you mean they don’t have this? How do you have babies?”

“I did not know what I was doing,” Proximus says. “I was worried I was hurting you, but I couldn’t stop.”

I look up at him in total astonishment. “There’s no way you’ve never done that.”

I should be more shocked that females of his race somehow don’t have vaginas, but the idea that he could eat me out so good on his very first try is too much. If he’s this good on his first try, how good will he get with practice?

“I simply realized it was the source of your scent,” he says. “I wanted to taste you, and so I did.”

“But,” I say. “You touched me exactly how I wanted, in every way just right, and–”

“Yes,” he says. “I realized touching you in certain ways made you taste better, and so I did, until you tasted sweeter than anything I’ve ever eaten. It’s why I could not stop even when I feared I’d hurt you.”

I laugh. “You didn’t hurt me. You made me feel...I can’t even describe it.”

Then I realize I should show him. I should do as best I can to make him feel the same way. I consider going down on him, but if he’s seriously never been inside a woman, I need to fix that as fast as I can. And my soaking wetness still craves him.

He presses his lips to mine, and our tongues meet. We kiss hungrily. Though my sense of smell is nothing compared to his, his masculine scent fills me as we kiss. I sense his power and strength, his resolve to protect me. Even his bullheaded insistence on owning me feels right in this moment, and I want nothing more than to fully submit to him. To be his.

He’s on top of me, and I grab his thick cock and press its head against my opening.

“It will hurt you,” he says.

“It might,” I whisper. “But I’m so wet, and I need you inside me. It hurts more not to.”

A low growl rumbles deep in his throat, and I see an animal frenzy fill his eyes. Without warning he flips me over. My face is pressed into the cloth of the mantle, and he rips my hips up into the air. I hear a wet slap as his swings his thick teal cock against my outer lips.

I yelp in surprise. If he’s never done this, he sure fucking knows how to take charge. All kinds of theories about alien anatomy and the origins of humanity form vague and unfinished in my mind, and I push them all away in expectation of him filling me up.

He presses in, and I yelp once again, this time in pain. His cock splits me seemingly in two, and tears of pain fill my eyes.

His fingers dig possessively into my flesh as he presses deeper in. My wet inner walls envelope him as the pain intensifies, and just when I think I’m going to pass out from the agony, it all melts away. Intense warmth and pleasure washes across my body as the pain becomes a distant memory. I feel his beautiful cock sliding inch by inch deeper and deeper inside me. I’m stretched to my limits, but the tightness and warm embrace of our union feels like the most right and perfect thing in the universe. He growls as he presses deeper in, and his hands slide up and squeeze my breasts.

“I want to always be inside you, Alice,” he growls.

“Yes,” I say, my tears streaming no longer from pain. “Always.”

And then he pulls further back, letting what feels good guide him. He rides me like the barbarian he is, and his balls slap against me with each powerful thrust. My body really can’t process what’s happening to it. This size of his cock is one thing, but the way he moves–and just knowing how good he looks–is like nothing else I’ve experienced. I almost jokingly called him a barbarian before, but having him fuck me has solidified that word in my mind. He truly is a barbarian.

He rides me like a man not tied down by any of the things that trouble a modern man. Even the most primal and masculine of men–a woodsman, a cowboy, a soldier–still go home at night and sleep in their beds. Proximus wears a loincloth, fights with a skullspear, and sleeps on the hard floor. And he fucks exactly like a man who does all those things. With total abandon, with a wild intensity, with the most primal of desires.

And God, it feels good to be fucked like that. To be desired like that. His cock swells within me as he fucks. My wetness is so great I can hear each thrust, and I can hear his balls slap against me with each movement. My ass cheeks jiggle back and forth as he slams into me, and I drool onto my mantle as I dig my elbows into it, doing all I can to keep my ass up for his entry.

I can’t even consider another position, because Proximus is so firmly in control. It feels too good just like this, and unless Proximus decides to throw me onto my back or to pull me on top of him, I’ll not move from this position.

I lose track of time, but the fact that I came just minutes before he entered me helps me to last longer, despite the incredible feeling of him sliding in and out of my impossibly tight and wet hole. For a man whose cock has never been inside a woman, I have no idea how he lasts as long as he does.

When the orgasm finally hits me, it hits hard. My walls clench him tight, and he thrusts so hard that the mantle scrunches up beneath me.

I press my face down into it and scream. I laugh and cry as the explosive orgasm blasts everything but the intense pleasure of him inside me from my mind. And only after I hit the absolute apex of that feeling do I feel his cock twitch and begin to fill me.

His release is as massive as his cock. The pressure of his cum hitting my deepest insides is intense, and my throat closes up and stifles a moan in response. I feel his warm cum flooding through me, and then overflowing. His cock pulses and pulses, filling me with a seemingly unlimited supply of hot alien cum.

I finally collapse, and I find my belly on cold stone. He’s fucked me so hard the mantle has bunched up into a ball beneath my elbows. I feel the cum dripping out of me, and I imagine it flowing through the cracks in the stone tiles like a river after a flood.

My body twitches in aftershocks of orgasm as Proximus pulls out of me and falls down beside me. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me on top of him. I rest on his warm body, while his back presses into the cold stones.

My eyes are heavy as I begin to drift into sleep.