Ranrok one-shot: Part 2

SIERRA

I grab my satchel and run for my life, gritting my teeth when my boot gets caught on a rock and I slide down the mud. I clutch my camera to my chest, protecting it from impact.

At the bottom of the hill, it takes me a second to register that I’m still alive. I get up and continue running through the forest, panting and disoriented.

I trip over a root, and this time, I’m not strong enough to get back up.

What did I just… what did I just see? Hallucinate?

He was a giant, red man. Wearing shorts much too small for him. His eyes were wide as he looked at me, as if I was the alien.

I’ve seen all sorts of crazy things in the Amazon—dangerous animals, detailed fossils and vibrant plants. But nothing like him.

I run a hand down my face and palm my breast. My heart is racing, but I tell myself that I’m safe. As I lay on my back, I don’t see the red man coming after me or hear footsteps. I’m safe.

After a few minutes, I gather my composure and return to the camp. The team has told me many times to not roam by myself. I should have listened to them.

“Sierra, what happened to your clothes?” Asks Dr. Menno. He’s the lead archeologist. Too old to be trekking this far into the wilderness, but so devoted to his work that nothing will keep him from it. He looks over us, too. I’m grateful to have him as a mentor.

I smile. “Nothing. I just crouched on the ground to get some cool pictures. Do you want to see them?” I offer, raising my camera as I always do.

My lie works, because he shakes his head and lifts his notepad. “I have work to do.”

“Sure.” I nod and trek to my camping tent, where I proceed to have a panic attack.

Oh my god. I definitely didn't hallucinate the red man of steel. But it’s not like I can mention this, either. The team would ship me to the nearest mental ward.

We came here to study fossils. Bones of dead creatures. Immobile, harmless, and quiet. We are here to look for a story within death. That’s what I studied in school. None of my lectures included studying males with lively red skin, muscles built for dominance, and eyes full of intrigue.

I don’t know what to make of the man I just saw!

Some of the native tribes in the Amazon are known to paint their skin for ceremonies. But my gut tells me that wasn’t a native human. He was massive. Built so aggressively that he would survive environments far more hostile than the Amazon.

Plus, the native tribes are protected and set far away from our camp. It would be impossible to run into them. So what does that make of my mystery man? I don’t know. But I’ll definitely be sleeping with one eye open tonight.

— —

The weeks come, and we’re rapidly exhausting our resources and reaching the date of our study’s expiration. We will have to return home soon. Leave this all behind, including the extraordinary man I saw.

I know he’s out there, watching me, because fruit has begun to appear in front of my tent overnight. And whenever there’s a bird call that’s slightly off tune, I know it’s him singing to me.

He gifted me a bone once. A precious, rare bone that I’ll have to do further testing on, but it looks like an old claw. I get excited about the possibilities of what this claw could be from. A dinosaur, maybe?

I want to see him again. I know it's crazy because I don’t know the man, but lately I’ve been going on walks that are longer than usual in hopes of running into him. He always stays clear of me.

Today is no different. I walk around alone, although my coworkers have warned me against wandering many times. The soil is wet from last night’s storm, and wet leaves brush my legs and arms with every step.

I wonder where he stays when it rains. Does he have a cabin deeper in the rainforest? Where is he from?

I’ve always been obsessed with the dirt and the history it preserves. My eyes are always locked on the ground, studying and wondering. But this male has me tipping my head back and staring at the stars instead.

I hear a bird call, and I smile, because I know that in a few seconds, he will respond with his own tune.

I keep my eyes on the tree as I climb a slope, wondering which bird makes the call that he mirrors. My fingers are gripping a vine when my boot gives out, and I slip down, barely managing a gasp as I tumble.

I feel wet all over as leaves grab me and mud covers my back, and then there’s pain in my ankle. I cry out as I sit up and reach for it, cringing from the pain.

I should have listened. I should have known this was only a matter of time before this happened! Damn it, I keep falling on my ass because of this man.

I take deep breaths to ward my tears off. Camp isn’t far away, although limping there will take hours. And I can only hope not to slip again or I’ll surely break an ankle this time.

Shuffling from atop the slope makes me freeze. I look up, and a second gasp leaves my lips.

He’s there. Wearing ripped shorts and only scars on his chest. His hair is longer. Braided back, though I can’t see the length from this angle.

His dark eyes lock on mine for only one second before he jumps off the slope and lands stealthily a few feet from me.

“You are injured,” comes a deep, accented voice.

What the fuck? How does he speak my language?! The guy is red and huge. He’s not human.

My lips shift. I’m trying to speak, but I can’t find any words. I think I want to say Hello? Or perhaps help?

It seems like he’s not interested in talking. Because all he does is swoop in and carry me in his arms. I palm his chest—an instinctive attempt at keeping distance from us. Because I don’t know this guy, and no matter how intrigued I am, he’s dangerous. His muscles practically spell danger out. He could crush me. Pulverize my bones until no archeologists could find it.

But something tells me that’s not happening. Because this guy brings me fruit, gifts, and sings me songs in high pitched whistles. Because as he walks toward the camp with me in my arms, he glances down at me with wide eyes, like he doesn’t believe I’m in his arms.

“Who are you?” I whisper.

“Ranrok.”

Ranrok. I will treasure his name.

“And your home? Where are you from?”

He doesn’t reply to this, and I stop asking. He carries me as far as he can, leaving me by a tree. Crouching to check my ankle isn’t broken.

And then, with a gaze that looks pained, with lips pursed like he has so much to say, he strokes a hand across my cheek—so fast I barely register his touch. And then he’s running away, deep into the wilderness he came from.

“Sierra!” I yell. “My name is Sierra!”

I don’t realize a tear streaks down my cheek until it reaches my neck. I tell myself it’s from the pain of my sprained ankle, but I know it’s from the fear of never seeing him again.

That gentle, curious soul.

—-

It takes two weeks for me to be back on my feet. I was getting bored of sitting on a chair, doing paperwork.

Today is a sad day for me, because we’re packing up camp tomorrow and returning to civilization.

Ranrok is still out there. He keeps bringing me the juiciest fruit. I don’t even know where he gets it from, but wherever I find it in front of my tent, I smile like an idiot and bring it into the tent so my coworkers don’t ask where it came from. I feel bad for keeping the discovery of Ranrok a secret, because my coworkers are good people. But I must protect Ranrok. I’ve been fighting the urge to go look for him, but now that I’m leaving, I must hear his voice again.

Feel his touch.

I wait for everyone to get distracted by dinner, and then I slip out of the camp. I bring my usual things: a pocket knife, a lighter, a protein bar, and a whistle in case I fall again. I can’t risk not being rescued by Ranrok this time.

I walk to where we first met, whispering his name like a crazy person in hopes he would hear me and show up.

I wait half an hour, looking around with rising frustration. I don’t want to leave without thanking him. I won’t ever see him again after today, but he will remain one of my most precious memories. Not because of his rugged handsomeness. Not because of his impressive build. But because of his kindness. We are still strangers to each other, but I know that whichever world he’s from is unfortunate to have lost him.

I’m about to give up and walk back to camp when I purse my lips and whistle a tune I’ve heard many evenings: Our birdcall.

“Sierra.”

I jump and turn around. There he is. Looking concerned.

“You are not supposed to be here.”

His chest and hair are damp, like he just finished bathing. I study his feet. Barefoot.

“I wanted to say goodbye.” I take a step closer. “To say thank you.”

His face falls, showing sorrow. It appears like some things are universal, because even I—a human, am sad.

“Where are you going? Are you moving your camp?”

This time, it’s him that steps forward. Like he can’t stand the distance between us.

“No,” I whisper shakily. “I’m leaving the Amazon for good.”

He looks away, shielding his eyes and hanging his head. And it kills me. I close the remaining distance, raising my shaky palms to cup his face. I have to reach high. He’s a very tall man.

His cheeks are freshly shaved. I find the stubble fascinating. All the little things that are human, but not. I want to see more. Explore the planet hidden within this man.

“I won’t forget you.” I promise.

He nods.

“Will you tell me how you got here? Are you in danger?”

He reaches his hand to cover one of mine. Pressing it deeper to his face. “I came here willingly. To explore. This is home.”

“From where? And how did you learn to speak our tongue?”

He smiles. “How can so many questions fit in such a tiny body?”

I love that smile. It brightens up his face. Makes him look so much less lethal. He answers my questions and asks some of his own—starting with why my hair is so red. “Red like my skin,” he says. He is precious.

We sit side by side on the ground, bouncing questions off one another and ignoring the darkening sky for as long as possible. But eventually, we must stop pretending it’s just another day. Because my coworkers will notice I’ve been gone for too long and come looking.

Saying goodbye is the most painful thing. The words sit in my mouth like poison. I would break an ankle a thousand times instead of telling him that we must part.

So I don’t speak the words. Not yet. I want to be get in this rainforest that’s full of life and memories of all the creatures that call it home.

I touch Ranrok’s knee. He has been silent for a minute, running low on questions.

My touch surprises him. He slightly jerks, and looks at me with wide, uncertain eyes.

I rise to my knees, dirtying my cargo pants. My hands find his chiseled, warm cheeks again. And I shut my eyes and slowly lean in.

I’m grabbed and spun, my body hitting the ground. With a hand protectively cradling the back of my head, Ranrok leans in and kisses me.

I should have expected this. Should have known that wild, nomadic aliens don’t do soft, gentle kisses. He shows me what passion is as he kisses me with fury. Hot, wet, breathless fury.

I grip his biceps and rub my hands across his abdomen like I’ve been fucking dreaming to. And he’s just as hard and warm as I’d dreamt. His bulk isn’t intimidating anymore. As he hovers over me, I feel secure.

His free hand slowly trails down my arm as his mouth devours me. He’s testing the waters. Seeing if I want to be touched elsewhere.

I grab his wrist and drag his hand to my breast, making him squeeze.

He groans into my mouth, squeezing there as I struggle to unbutton my top. Once the last button is off, he doesn’t wait for me to remove my bra. He shoves the cup up, and rolls my nipple into his warm mouth.

The mouth that once whistled such lovely, romantic bird calls is now doing filthy things to me. Sucking, flicking, lapping. My pussy clenches with jealousy. But all I can do is pant his name and keep my legs wide open.

He stays there for fifteen minutes, enjoying my breasts. Muttering sounds of approval as he marks both breasts with his warmth, leaving a hickey on both mounds so that I’ll have something to remember him by when I look in the mirror. Or maybe he’s warding off the competition.

I groan lustfully at the thought. This one must have been especially strangled, because Ranrok moves his lips south, kissing my panting abdomen until reaching my belt.

He makes quick work of it—removing it along with my boots and cargo pants. He stops at my panties, simply sliding them aside before descending on me. I’m shocked by his mouth, because I had been expecting him to get me fully naked. But he’s too hungry for that, too eager.

With those dark eyes on me, that long hair rowdy around his shoulders, he licks my pussy and groans into it, like his dreams have finally come true. Like he, too, has daydreamt about this same filth I have, and he finally got his answers.

I’m stiff with embarrassment and anxiety, but he makes it hard. With every lick, every groan, every stroke of his thumb on my belly, I relax.

My eyes find the top of the nearest tree, and with every lick, I feel like I’m climbing.

Ranrok gets exploratory, stroking the pad of his thumb across my entrance as his mouth stays busy. I hiss when he finds my clit, and he notices. He folds my lips back to expose the little nub, kisses it, and licks the damn thing until I’m squealing and my thighs are flailing beside his head.

He lifts his head, watching me with hooded eyes as he licks his lips before returning to my cunt. And it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. His thumb continues to circle me teasingly and he makes sure to slurp the mess that trails out of me, not sharing a drop with the Amazon ground.

I grip onto his hair, my thighs spread wide as I moan and sigh. Then my eyes find the top of the tree again, and with one final lick to my clit, I fall and tumble down. Pleasure shocks me. All the times I came in my tent as I imagined this don’t compare to the real experience.

The waves come hard and fast, and I’m in heaven.

Ranrok is licking up my mess when we hear my name being called in the distance. My pussy is still clenching—convulsing in pleasure, as my heart breaks. Because it’s time to go.

Ranrok pulls my pants up and fixes my blouse without looking at me. His lips are swollen and wet. And there is a storm in his pants. Concerningly large bulges that I won’t get to see—or take care of.

“Ranrok, I—“

“Be happy.” He kisses my forehead and takes off.

That’s it? That’s the end?

I scramble to fix my boots and straighten my clothes, walking toward my coworkers with a steady beat in my cunt, and unimaginable pain in my chest.

I look back, but Ranrok isn’t there. Only marks on the ground where he laid me and wrote his name on my skin.

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