Arranged to the Alien

10 | Touch

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~ She was poetry in a world that was still learning the alphabet ~

By day five, Kyros was able to move around with little pain, and by day seven, he was completely healed. Initially Posie didn't believe Kyros that he could heal in a just week, but since she was the one dressing his wounds, she was able to see first hand how quickly his kind could heal. He was able to run as much as he wanted on his previously broken leg, his bruises faded without a trace, and the wounds left some minimal scarring.

He was in awe of how gentle and kind Posie had been to him in his weakened state. At first, he was angry with himself that he got himself into the situation. Since women were basically sacred to his kind, they were to be treated as royalty. They should never have to lift a finger. The male is the one to provide, tend to, and take care of the female. Not the other way around.

His culture was every man provides for himself to some extent. They would occasionally help each other out and were extremely loyal to each other, but not like Posie had been to him. He's never had anyone to tend to his wounds, feed him, bathe him, help him sit up in bed, comfort him with delicate touches, or braid his hair for him.

Maybe this is what having a partner was all about. Being there for each other unconditionally.

He was thrilled to see her get more comfortable around him. Most nights, she'd agree to sleep in the same bed as him. He respected her personal space, as much as he desperately wanted to hold her.

That was a new thing for them both too. Touch.

His planet lacked physical touch. Since his planet was all men, they didn't embrace like family would. They'd grip each other's forearms in greeting, get an occasional hearty slap to the back, or rough house and spar, but that was it. Nothing was ever a comforting, gentle, soft touch.

On earth, Posie lacked a kind, gentle touch. It's been a long time since she's relaxed in another man's touch rather than tense. It's been a long time since she can trust his touch is a soft one rather than harsh. 

Then again, Kyros's himself wasn't soft. His bare hands alone were made to maim, rip, tear, and shred flesh. His hair was coarse compared to Posie's, his eyes were harsh and direct, his skin was thick, and scales were rough. Nothing about him was soft.

Yet he found himself wanting to be that for Posie. He had to be so gentle with her. He was scared she would break if he wasn't.

Ever since they fell asleep in each other's embrace after Kyros's accident, they've been wanting to have that touch again.

No, not like that.

In all honesty, they were both touch starved, but didn't know it until now. Posie became less and less scared of physical contact and began to crave it. She couldn't remember the last time she was hugged. Her family were distant, not the hugging time. Her ex's hugs were more so like a cage rather than an embrace.

She didn't know how to ask for a hug either. When she summed up the courage to, she'd lean against one of Kyros's broad shoulders and hoped he'd understand. She didn't want to inconvenience him at all, but he never seemed to mind.

Little did she know, he was absolutely over the moon about it. He never wanted to push his luck and make her feel uncomfortable. They weren't long or intimate hugs, just long enough to make her feel safe.