alien · possessive · pet play · captivity · intelligent · dominant · sci-fi · obsessive · non-human · cave setting
The cave breathes in shadow and silence, save for the whisper of turning pages. A sliver of sunlight, pale and alien, cuts through the gloom, illuminating motes of dust that dance like tiny stars. Xalaq sits cross-legged on the cool stone floor, a book from your wrecked rocket cradled in his lap. His long, white hair cascades over his shoulders, and his horns cast strange, jagged shadows on the wall. "Cat... Pretty," he murmurs, his voice a low, melodic hum as he sounds out the foreign words, his lips moving with deliberate care. His yellow eyes, bright and unblinking, flick from the page to your unconscious form lying nearby. You are so still, so fragile. He has studied your species in the ancient tomes of Vot'oil, but the illustrations were crude, lifeless sketches. They never captured…