Beast in the Cage: A Scifi Alien Romance

similar to your memory?”
“Not exactly. The colors are almost right. And there are other details I couldn’t do. The leaves weren’t big like this. They were small and rattled in the wind when it blew. There should be clouds in the sky but these ones aren’t right.”
“You know, I used to be pretty good at art when I was in school. I could help you draw a better picture if you wanted.”
His eyes sparkled.
“You could?”
“If you can get your hands on some paper and paint.”
He leaped out of bed and crossed to his wardrobe. He reached into the bottom and lifted out a board with paints and brushes on it. He had all the equipment. He just didn’t have the skills to create the image he wanted.
“Would you mind?” he said.
I smiled and put on a baggy T-shirt.
“You just try and stop me. But you’re going to have to give me guidance. I can’t look into your head and see the image, remember.”
We set up the board on the small dining table and leaned it against the wall. I picked up a small piece of charcoal and began sketching on the canvas.
Kren picked up a smaller pad of paper and a piece of charcoal.
“Okay,” I said. “First, we need to sketch what the rough image looks like. I’m going to use your painting to draw mine. Then I need you to help me figure out the details. Okay?”
He beamed at me.
“Okay.”
While I got to work sketching his image, he doodled on his pad. I let myself become absorbed with the painting. My surroundings slipped away and I was left with the canvas.
It took me back ten years to when I was in art class at high school. I had never been a great painter but I was good.
Once I was done with the rough outline, Kren joined me. He pulled his seat up behind me and sat with his legs on either side, his chin resting on my shoulder, lightly kissing me on my neck as he whispered in my ear.
I was torn between wanting to complete the painting and wanting to straddle him. I would focus on the painting, I told myself. I would focus on it and let myself enjoy little breaks with him, so he could “reward” me for doing him this favor.
“Did the leaves look like this?” I said.
He leaned forward and took my hand in his and helped draw the shape of the leaves. They were strange, long and narrow, with little strands like fuzzy hair sticking out the top.
His arm brushed against mine and I swore I felt crackling electricity between us.
“Like this,” he said. “With soft strokes.”
I turned my head slightly to one side. I didn’t even need to lean closer to him. He was right there, his lips less than an inch from mine. I placed my hand on his bulging crotch. My voice was husky when I spoke.
“Like this?” I said, adding my own soft strokes.
His eyes fastened on mine and his breath tickled my cheek.
“Just like that.”
I’d never been able to stick to my own rules, so why start now?
I pressed my lips to his and he thrust his tongue in my mouth. He scooped his arms underneath my knees and across my back. Our lips never left each other as he carried me to the bed and lay me down.
A painter couldn’t just work, work, work. She needed to draw her inspiration from somewhere. She needed experience.
His hard body and throbbing cock were where I found mine.
My muse.

Kren
I groaned loudly and thrust violently inside her, letting my juices flow freely.
Every moment of lovemaking with her was unique and special. Every plunge into her glorious folds brought a gasp from her throat and she threw her head back in ecstasy.
We panted for breath, our bodies slick with sweat.
“Awesome,” she said between gasps. “I know I say it every time but… awesome.”
She struggled to roll up onto her side before sitting on the edge of the bed. Then she shimmied my T-shirt down over her nakedness.
“Right. Back to work!”
It was the middle of the night and she didn’t stop until she had sketched every element she intended on painting later. I answered every question she asked about the details. It even helped me remember certain aspects I’d long since forgotten.
There were crops in the background. They didn’t belong to me or my family but I used to play among them with my friends.
We would pluck the ripe fruit from the trees as we ran and played, dodging between the plants and playing a game not dissimilar from Earth’s tag.
When she didn’t have any questions to ask, I scooped up my notepad and sketched and doodled and just enjoyed making my own little designs.
Every so often I would look across at her and smile at the focused expression on her face. I loved the way her hair clung to her brow and the T-shirt would rise up and expose her nakedness underneath.
Then I would carry her to the bed and have her once more.
Other times, I would be sketching and glance at her, finding her looking at me. At first, she quickly looked away and concentrated on her painting, but other times, she kept her eyes focused on me.
She got up, took my hand, and led me to the bed.
Sometimes we had full-blown mind-altering sex, other times, she lay back and pressed my hand to her, and expected me to service her, which I immediately did, or other times, she would lay me down on the bed and take me in her mouth, desperate to taste me.
Finally, Ivy leaned back in her chair and stretched her back.
“Right. I think the sketches are done. Now I just need to begin to paint.”
There was the familiar sound of the door with its tone. We looked at each other and our eyes bulged.
“It’s morning already?” Ivy said, zipping to her feet. “I need to shower!”
She bolted into the bathroom. I was left trying to