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It’s really easy to forget that you’re dating an alien. That sounds stupid as hell but it’s true. Maybe it’s just because Psii’s so unlike the other trolls you know. Sure he’s about a foot taller than most humans have any right being and he’s got a mouth like a garbage disposal but he doesn’t hold himself the way they do, there’s something undeniably human about how he’s decided to live this life.
Right now though, it’s all too obvious. The tips of his claws are worn down keyboard-blunt but they’re still threateningly solid against your squishy human skin as he traces them curiously along the lines of your neck. He’s breathing through his open mouth, double dose of fangs hanging over his bottom lip just inches from your skin. He could tear your throat out with his bare hands, but he won't.
He presses the pad of his finger down your windpipe hard enough to feel the cartilage and blinks when you swallow and your adam’s apple bobs. He ducks forwards, wary of his horns by your face and licks it. When he pulls back his breath tingles against the wet patch and you squirm.
“Shh,” he whispers, slowly moving his mouth up your jaw, brushing his lips against your stubble. He catches your earlobe between his front fangs, rolls over it with the tips of his tongue. “Stay still.”
You’re going to fucking die.
He pushes himself back up to sit over you, a leg on either side of your hips, and pushes his flat palms up your stomach. One of his hands finds your nipple and pinches it and through your cracked eyes you see him light up as you arch and groan.
“You’re so hairy.” He says. It’s not a value judgement it’s just a fact. His hand moves from your nipple and ghosts over the thick blonde hair on your chest. He’s completely hairless except for the hair on his head and the patchy mess that used to be his eyebrows and he touches you like he’s only just noticed you’re not. His hand slowly drifts down your chest and his thumb dips under the waistband of your boxers until it brushes your pubes. “Why?”
The question catches you by surprise. “Because, uh.” He’s shifted back a little on your thighs so he can play with the waistband of your shorts properly and it’s taking a very concentrated effort to keep any blood in your brain at all. “Mammal reasons?” You offer and he laughs. “No uh, something to do with warmth.”
Psii hums approvingly and bends down to kiss the blonde curls between your pecs, his hands moving away to grip your hips for balance. You sigh as he peppers gentle kisses along the curves of your muscles like he wants to map them that way too. His mouth finds your nipple again, soft lips brushing over the sensitive skin and your breath catches. You feel teeth when he grins and you can’t help the little cut off hhh the escapes between your teeth. He shifts until he’s resting on his elbow with this bottom lip hanging over your nipple and looks up at you with those stupid, beautiful, dayglo eyes.
“If you start asking me about nipples,” you say, “I’m out.”
He snorts and kisses first one and then the other before pulling off you completely. It’s dark outside and the window is open, letting the cool night air in to lick at your bare skin and the sudden loss of his weight has you shivering all over and reaching out to grab for the warm tingle of his touch. You feel the mattress shift as he gets up but when you move to look a humming band of psionics across your chest holds you down.
“Stay.” He says.
You groan and screw your eyes shut, clenching your hands in the sheets at your sides.
The next time he touches you it’s so light you almost don’t feel it, a barely-there exploratory brush of his claw tips through your leg hair. He hums and tugs on your ankles, urging you to shuffle along the bed until your ass is balanced on the edge and your toes touch the floor. He sits between your legs, his head resting against one knee as he explores every dip and bony knobble of the other with both hands. He smooths them down to your ankle and when he’s done feeling out every tiny bone there he wraps his hands around your foot.
You twitch and make a strangled noise and he shushes you again. The band of psionics is gone but you stay put, curling your toes as he strokes his thumbs far too gently up the arch of your foot. You don’t have the prettiest feet. Years of various martial arts made them rough and clunky but he gently squishes the pads of your toes like you’re a kitten.
“I can’t believe you fight with these.” He says. It takes you two tries to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.
“S’not my strongest subje- Ahahhh--!! Ohsweetjesus stop!”
He drops your foot and clutches his hands to chest. “What did I do?”
You sit up. He’s wearing one of your old My Little Pony shirts that’s way too wide for him at the shoulders and looking up at you all tentative and guilty like he might have hurt you. When you laugh he frowns.
“That tickles, dipshit.”
“I have no idea what that means.” He trails the tips of his claws along the bottom of your foot again and tips his head to one side when your foot jumps and your swear at him. “Huh.”
You kick him in the shoulder and he relents, moving to continue his exploration higher up, watching your muscles jump as he traces the veins on your thighs. Before long he’s following the path with his mouth, sucking clumsy little bruises on your skin and rubbing over them with the pads of his fingers like he’s fascinated that they’re there.
Your dick is tenting your boxes and twitching in time with your fucking pulse but you promised you’d let Psii have his fun and you wouldn’t touch so you wind both hands into his hair and tug him back when he strays too close to your crotch. He snickers and butts his horns into your hand.
“You’re a fucking asshole.” You say, scratching your nails between them.
“Please Psii,” he says, in a terrible approximation of your accent. “Pretty please explore my wrinkly alien dick next.”
Smacking him around the horns just makes him snicker louder. He shakes your hand away and gets up, stepping closer and pulling your forehead to rest against his stomach. As he talks he brushes his fingers through what’s left of the spikes in your hair. “I don’t want to, yet.” He says. You hum and he continues. “If you want me to lay off you just have to say.”
“No way.” You nudge his shirt up to kiss the top of his belly scar and grin at his indignant little chirr. “Gimme five minutes to get my shit back in order and I’m all yours.”
“Five minutes.” He says, pushing his thigh against your groin. Hhrg. “To calm down?” You nod and he backs, off. “Okay.” He says. “Think unsexy thoughts. I’ll be back.”
And just like he’s disappeared through the door. You fall back onto the mattress with a thud. The temptation to just jerk yourself against the clock is unbelievable but somehow you resist, biting down on your knuckles and thinking of Hillary Clinton’s underthings. Five minutes later when you’re starfished across the bed and you feel a little less like you’ve been woven out of exposed nerves he slips back into the room and tosses a bottle of water onto the pillow by your shoulder.
The mattress dips again when he sits cross legged next to your head, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, and takes your hand in the other, gently rubbing his thumb along the bumps of your knuckles. The light from his eyes and your alarm clock glow across the sharp edges of his collar bones at odd angles and throw weird shadows across his jaw. You watch his tongue dart out to catch the coffee from his lips and swallow hard. Screwing your eyes shut you curl up on your side, pressing your nose into his bare thigh and twisting your hand to lace your fingers with his.
“What are you staring at?” He says. Damn, you’ve gotten way too used to wearing those shades.
“Nothing.”
Psii rolls his eyes and puts down his coffee, pulling your hand up to his face, his fingers still warm from the mug as he curls them around your wrist. Gently he feels along your tendons until he finds your pulse point.
“Your skin’s so thin.” He says.
“Don’t break it.”
He leans forwards and brushes the flats of his teeth against your pulse before closing his lips around it. His fingers ghost down your forearm and up to your shoulder and you feel the dig of his knee against the inside of your thigh as he rolls you back over and presses himself into your space. He buries his face in your neck and his lips are sugar sticky where he presses them against your pulse there too. Belatedly you feel him purring, a sweet hum low in his chest as he spreads himself out over you. His tongue brushes the smooth soft skin below your ear and you groan.
“Is this okay?” He whispers. You nod and turn to kiss him on the lips.
His hands frame your face, thumb claws just digging into the soft skin near your eyes and he kisses you slow and heavy. Both points of his tongue brush past your teeth and lick at the corners of your mouth, he tastes like an exposed wire and when he pulls back you are dizzy and breathless. He rubs his thumbs over your cheekbones and up, around the curve of your eyes until you close them so that he can press featherlight kisses to your eyelids.
Someone’s replaced your blood with syrup. Everything moves slower this time, you’re less aware of the individual movements of his hands and more aware of the sensation as a whole. You’re melting into the bed as he feels out all your bony bits with careful fingers and grazes his fangs against your skin wherever he can taste your pulse.
He urges you onto your front and makes quiet shushing noises as he traces all the muscles on your back one by one like he wants to butcher you along the lines. Your muscles twitch under his careful touch but you aren’t tense, not even a little. You and tense had a falling out way back when and that fucker filed for a restraining order. The more he pets at your skin the more relaxed you get and the more relaxed you get the louder you can feel him purring against your spine. By the time he’s bored of touching you, you’re drooling into the pillow, your eyes fallen shut and your heartbeat slow and heavy.
He curls around your side and holds onto your wrist, mouthing absently at the heel of your hand. When you crack an eye open to look at him he’s watching you over your curled fingers and from this short distance you can see what passes for his pupils blown wide. He chirrs at you, a strange crickety, unmistakably alien noise and your heart twists painfully in your chest.
You take your hand away so you can move and he grumbles, even when you tuck his head into your shoulder. He wriggles down the bed and curls up with his ear pressed against your stomach. Clearly you’re missing a piece here, cause something’s hit him like a truck and you’re not really sure you did anything. You hadn’t even noticed you were getting to him. Working that shit out can wait though, because right now you’re warm all over and he’s purring against your stomach and there’s fuck all either of you need to do except sleep.
You’ll give him five minutes to get his shit in order.