The Alien Warrior King's Accountant (Royal Aliens 4)

I tell myself that I am simply keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t do anything sneakily human or underhanded, but I know in my gut that this human does not have a sneaky bone in her body. She is honest, fearless, and she works tirelessly.

Well, almost tirelessly. Right now, her head is nodding and her eyes are closing. Her head is descending toward the desk, and now… yes, she is resting her head on her arms and falling asleep.

How adorable.

She needs to sleep properly.

I enter the room quietly and sweep her gently up into my arms. She makes a muffled noise as I pick her up and carry her to the bed only a few feet away. She could have gone to bed quite easily on her own, but decided to pass out at her desk working instead. I wonder if this speaks to dedication on her part, or simply a lack of foresight.

She makes a little squirming motion under her covers, and curls up in the most peaceful way. The only problem is that she has wrapped herself around my arm in a way that makes it impossible for me to move away.

I am left with a decision. Do I stay here and let her sleep with her arms wrapped around me like a python, or do I risk waking her up by doing the most sensible thing and retrieving my limb?

Of course I should move away. I am King Tyrant. I am the most powerful monarch in all the universe. I do not inconvenience myself with the needs of humans.

And yet I don’t move.

I stay there, with her. I watch her as she sleeps, the peaceful inhalations and exhalations. They’re quite mesmerizing. She is quite mesmerizing.

* * *

Tania

I wake up wrapped in the arms of Tyrant, the king.

I am confused. Last I remember I was working on his accounts. Now, somehow, I am in bed, and the king is holding me tenderly.

“Hello, human.”

His body is pressed against mine in a way I can only describe as holy fucking hot. I can feel his massive strength, as well as a massive rod pressing against my thigh, and hip, and into the soft curve of my stomach. He is so….mnngh.

“How did we end up here, exactly?”

“You fell asleep at your desk, so I moved you to the bed. And then you grabbed me, so I was forced to stay and at some point I succumbed to what I suppose you would call sleep.

“I thought you didn’t sleep.”

That’s the sweetest, least expected thing that has ever happened to me.

“I’m, uhm, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to trap you here.”

“I enjoyed being trapped in your bed, human. You have an allure I cannot explain. It defies all reason, all logic, and likely, all biological capability, but still it persists.”

He likes me. Against all common sense and expectation, he likes me. He doesn’t just want to fuck me. He wants to be with me. Or at least, he wants something like that. I don’t know what his relationship paradigm looks like.

But I know how it feels when we are together, how our bodies react to one another. There’s a cosmic chemical connection between us. If I believed in romance, I would say that we were made for one another.

Suddenly, he’s kissing me. His hands are roaming my body and I am melting into him. We are giving into the chemistry, following our instincts and giving ourselves over to what biology desires.

Every bit of him is hard and unyielding, completely alien. But there’s a heat to him, a tenderness and a warmth which I feel sinking through my flesh as he holds me close.

He takes me slowly, sweetly, with more care than I thought he was capable of. The alien ravaging I expected from him turns into something more passionate, a lengthy caressing of tongue and claw.

“You work too hard, human,” he growls, chastising me as if he has forgotten the whole reason I am here is to work.

“I work as hard as I have to. It’s my job to get your accounts done as soon as… unghh!”

My words turn into a moan as he caresses me, his tongue lapping down my neck and then my collarbone, and then down to my breasts where he takes my nipples in his mouth and toys with them gently, teasing me into ever more arousal.

“This is a distraction, sire, but these are all billable hours, I’m sure. I shouldn't be doing this with you…”

“Quiet,” he purrs, his mouth against my neck. His order is tender, but dominant. “You're obsessed with red tape, but I think there are better ways to use it…”

I watch as he pulls an unending stream of thick red tape which looks more like red hemp rope to my uneducated human eyes, out of the ether where all things exist in a state of waiting to be.