Stranded, 13/24, NC-17, Predator AU

Title: Stranded
Author: Shalimar
Chapter: 13/24
Fandom: Predator AU
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Adult Situations, Sexual Situations
Orientation: Het
Pairing(s): OMC/OFC, but you need to be patient this time
Summary: A starving young widow with two small children and a Yautja hunter who has crash landed near their cabin must team up if any of them are to survive the planet’s long, brutal winter.
Disclaimer: The aliens in this fic are based on the ones in the first two “Predator” movies, because I like their hunting culture and vaguely humanoid appearance, however, I’m adhering to neither canon nor fanon, just writing. And I’m not making a cent, but all the original characters are mine and mine alone.
Feedback: Shred Me

Yes, desperately, any kind, anywhere.
Archive: Yes, PBBS, AoVD.
Notes: For those of you who have followed my Predator fics, these characters have no relationship to any other characters I’ve written so far. I wrote this fic to see if I could write a novel in a reasonable amount of time. It appears that I can, because I wrote the nearly 94,000 words of this tale in seven months. It has been posted elsewhere, to enthusiastic response, but few suggestions for improvement. Please have at!
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I can’t stand this, Rukh’jei determined upon awakening, the stench of his body almost overwhelming him.

It had been four days since they had gotten him moved from the floor to Michelle’s bed. He could manage short forays to the bathroom now, but the trip there and the act of relieving himself would expend what little energy he had; Michelle had needed to help him get back. Until yesterday, that is. Rukh’jei felt absurdly proud of being able to complete such a basic task without the hovering female’s assistance.

However, he had done little more than spot bathing for seven days now, which was beyond appalling to the fastidious hunter in him. He found it amazing that Michelle had tended to him and slept beside him without mentioning it. Humans seemed to possess a poor olfactory sense, but even she couldn’t be unaware anymore. As badly as he needed to cleanse his body, he doubted he could stand up for long enough to complete a shower. If he wanted to be clean, he was going to have to humiliate himself by asking for her support.

When she returned from relieving herself, he fought not to project his distaste when he sat up and asked his question, but he wasn’t entirely successful. “I need a bath,” he announced, flatly, having heard Michelle use the same phrase, but with a different pronoun, many times while addressing her small son.

“Yes,” she agreed, heartily, wrinkling the organ she used to detect scent.

Rukh’jei flared his mandibles irritably at her. “You never said.”

“It’s not like I could carry you there,” Michelle snapped. “You have to be able to bathe yourself.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment, marshalling his frustration while admonishing himself to have patience. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally, the gall bitter on his tongue.

“You need me to help you?” she translated, which was annoyingly unhelpful.

He whipped his gaze from hers, causing his tresses to clink loudly. “Yes,” he growled, sullenly, at the wall.

Michelle’s supply of patience also seemed to be in short supply. “It’d be easier if you weren’t always mad at me,” she retorted, testily.

“Easier not injured,” he parried, as he turned to glower at her, demonstrating that he could understand more of her words than he was able to speak.

“You’re getting better,” she insisted, with much less heat but no apology.

Her refusal to continue to be consumed with guilt because Rukh’jei had been injured during a bid to save her sanity mollified him. “Yes,” he agreed, but then took their conversation full circle. “I need a bath.”

Rukh’jei deliberately relaxed his mandibles and softened his gaze, trying to look appealing. He almost added a “please,” but decided that might be overdoing it. It must have worked, because Michelle’s belligerent stance eased, her face smoothed.

“You do,” she reiterated, her voice gentle. “What do you want me to do?”

Since he had finally mastered getting to the bathroom, Rukh’jei wasn’t about to let her help him do that. He climbed slowly to his feet, staying in place until the wave of dizziness passed, before making his careful way across the common room. Honoring Michelle’s need for him to be private about such things, he shut the door and relieved himself before letting her back into the little room.

Rukh’jei watched her eye him, and then the wholly inadequate bathtub, dubiously. “You must take showers,” Michelle determined. His vision chose that moment to swim, causing him to collapse heavily onto the edge of the tub. Only Michelle’s steadying weight kept him from falling from there to the floor.

“But you can’t stand up through a shower,” she added, with sudden clarity.

Although he wasn’t entirely sure of what Michelle had said, he suspected from the sudden tension in her body what it might have been. If I want to get clean, I’d have to be naked while she helped me keep from falling down.

Doggedly, she reached for the controls for the bath water and began fiddling with them to get the temperature where she wanted it. Rukh’jei knew there was some possibility she wouldn’t like it as hot as he did, but if she was going to have to stand in it with him, he was willing to tolerate being a little cold.

At least you’ll smell better when it’s over, he reminded himself, shifting his focus back to the outcome, as she turned the spray on full force.

Once the water was running, Michelle glanced furtively at him, but did nothing further.

Rukh’jei felt remarkably stupid when it dawned on him what she was waiting for. I need to get undressed.

He stood gingerly, gripping her shoulder to steady himself, and removed his stinking loincloth and the lower half of his devastated mesh suit, relieved to have them away from his equally filthy skin. The thought of donning the bright but silky pants Michelle had made in their place nearly caused a physical reaction it was unwise he have just now. Hurriedly, he halted it by substituting a horrid memory of what it felt like to lie outside in the snow. Once he was satisfied that he had better control of himself, Rukh’jei concentrated on the steamy air buffeting his odiferous hide. Opening his mouth, he savored the fresh, hot scent of the water he would soon be standing in.

“Now,” he told her averted head.

Moving away the tarp that kept the water from the floor, she guided him towards the spray, stepping in behind him. So concentrated was he on the wondrous sensation that Rukh’jei didn’t realize that Michelle was standing in the water fully clothed until a wave of dizziness hit him and he clung to her.

“Here,” she offered, finding his hand blindly and squeezing some soap into it.

Gratefully, he inhaled its spicy fragrance, pleased it was a scent he preferred. He lathered it against his chest, using both hands to move it around his loathsome upper body as his equilibrium permitted. While he knew it was only his imagination, he felt physically lighter as he washed the dirt, sweat and dried blood away. He had expected the spray to cause some degree of pain to his healing back and shoulder, but it was easily borne, especially coupled with the soothing heat it imparted.

Rukh’jei tried hard to ignore Michelle’s presence, at least as hard as she was trying to be ignored, but it was impossible to keep his curious eyes from the lank, dripping hair that covered her face and the soaked thermals that now clung to her body. He appreciated her help more than he could ever easily admit, but he also felt sorry that she let her discomfiture with nudity add to her physical discomfort. He was fairly certain she found nothing to recommend in wearing her heavy, waterlogged garments.

Impulsively, he plucked at her shoulder. “Off?” he asked, once she had raised her head to allow her face to part her curtain of hair.

When Michelle flinched at his suggestion, Rukh’jei regretted it immediately. As many words as he now possessed in her language, he couldn’t yet form the right combination of them to tell her he had no intention of taking advantage of her once she was naked. Besides, he couldn’t see how she would be able to leave the bath fully clothed without sharing much of its water with the outer floor. That would completely negate the reason for the waterproof tarp, and it might even tax the dryer’s ability to evaporate it.

“No, Chell,” he vowed, which was woefully inadequate, before pulling at her shoulder again. “Okay?”

Her eyes searched his, as if yearning to discern the veracity of his words in them. Rukh’jei met her gaze boldly, not allowing it to unnerve him. Whatever she saw there must have satisfied her, because Michelle reached down and shoved her pants below her hips, the weight of the water dropping them to the floor of the tub. Since he was using her to steady himself, her shirt was somewhat more problematic to remove, but they somehow managed to work around it until it finally plopped down next to its counterpart.

Michelle hunched over so that her hair fell forward, covering her breasts, even though he had seen them exposed before. Rukh’jei was acutely aware that she felt vulnerable and wished he could make her understand that he would never intentionally exploit this opportunity. He couldn’t help, however, glancing sidelong at her pale flesh, flushed pink by the hot water. A color like that didn’t occur among Yautja skin tones, and its creamy uniform smoothness fascinated him. It was difficult not to wonder what it would feel like sliding under his hands, since even Yautja females had patterned, textured hides. Would it all feel like her belly he had once cradled or her cheek he had licked?

Do. Not. Go. There.

This time, no amount of snow visualization was enough to prevent too much of his still diminished blood supply from racing to places it didn’t need to be. Black spots dappled his vision, forcing him to sit down abruptly in the tub, which was a snug fit. When the bout of dizziness had passed, Rukh’jei washed his legs, but there was no way he could reach his back in the close confines of the tub. Without being told, Michelle squeezed soap into her hands and carefully tended to his damaged back. Under her touch and the water’s warmth, he carefully flexed his muscles, stretching the softened, healing skin so that it fit more comfortably over his large frame.

Once his body had been cleaned, he shook his head so that his hunter’s braids rattled. When Michelle took one in her hand, he knew she had correctly interpreted his gesture. Luckily, even sitting down, the containers of delectable-smelling soaps were within easy reach. Without conscious thought, he snagged one and handed it back to Michelle, realizing belatedly that it bore the same color scheme as the bottle of lotion he had once considered taking to entice Jend.

Jend. Rukh’jei recalled the Yautja female he had most desired, she who had prompted him to come to Winter to hunt the Nowt, in hopes of winning the right to mate her. That happened a lifetime ago. To a different Rukh’jei.

As he felt her little fingers carefully wash each tress, Rukh’jei admitted that it was no longer Jend who captivated him. Here, now, in this place, there was only Michelle, and she was all he wanted.

******

At first, Michelle had felt awkward, standing nude in the shower with the equally naked Yautja, but it had soon become second nature. She had grown accustomed to being close to Rukh’jei and feeling safe and warm. Being unclothed and wet didn’t alter those feelings as much as she would’ve thought. When his behavior didn’t change with their new circumstances, she wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or disappointed.

Alien or not, you do want him, don’t you? she challenged herself as her eyes traced the scars lacing his back, his strange yellow and orange skin, both in color and texture like no man’s.

Whatever else he might be, Michelle did want him. Here in this place, at this time, it was as if they were the last two adults in the universe. That they should find pleasure in each other’s arms, especially after all the hardships they had suffered, didn’t seem so untoward anymore. While Michelle no longer had any aversion to the idea, how to initiate it was another matter. She resolved to always be open to any advance Rukh’jei might make and hope that he made one.

Once Rukh’jei’s hair had been rinsed, Michelle considered whether she should wash the crown of his skull, but one of his massive hands was spreading soap over it even as her mind was forming the question. After that, he began to meticulously work on his face. Fascinated, Michelle rose from her crouch behind him and peeked over his shoulder to observe. Watching him soap each appendage and the folds of skin between them, she wondered if Yautja mothers got the same kind of grief from their kids about face washing that human mothers got over teeth brushing.

“Done?” she asked, when Rukh’jei turned and sought her eyes.

“Yes,” he confirmed, but he seemed somehow agitated.

Did I do something to upset him? Michelle thought in dismay, when he pushed her backward gently, shifting himself around as well as the tub would allow. She held her breath as she realized his orange eyes had shifted to peruse her body. When his fingers brushed her ribcage, Michelle had to resist the urge to jump.

“Better,” he announced, sounding satisfied.

‘Better?’ What does that mean?

Before she could ask him that peevish question, the shower curtain was pulled back, exposing their state of undress. Stevie blinked owlishly at the two of them.

“You’re naked!” he exclaimed, giggling with a small child’s delicious sense of scandal.

******

Michelle stopped herself from going to check on the baby for the third time that day, but as hard as it was to run into the wall that permanently separated her from Sam, she was becoming accustomed to it. It wasn't that it didn't still hurt, but it was a pain she was learning how to live with. She still cried for her lost child every day, but her grief no longer threatened to destroy her. Michelle knew herself to be in control of it now, rather than the other way around.

Turning back towards the kitchen, she glanced proudly at Stevie, who was meticulously building elaborate block towers and humming to himself. When she had consciously stepped back into her son's life, he had become her little boy again. It wasn't that he was any less enamored of the big hunter than he had been before, but she was his mother, and there was no replacing her in his heart. Rukh'jei had been his port during her terrible storm.

While she ached for Sam, she didn't miss all the work that had come with her. For the first time since Stevie had been born, there were no diapers to change, no sleep interrupted by hungry cries, no daily stack of baby clothes to be cleaned and no breast milk to contend with. At halfway through his third year, Stevie had developed a measure of independence she hadn't noticed while she had been caught up in her pregnancy and Sam's subsequent infancy. He had learned how to play quietly by himself sometimes, no longer requiring her constant attention.

She pondered for a moment, mentally assessing the wealth of food choices she had now, keenly aware of what a contrast that was to the paucity of only a month earlier. During his convalescence, Rukh'jei had insisted on a lot of meat. He had also insisted that she eat whenever he did. Michelle noticed that she was beginning to fill out nicely now, no more boniness in evidence. Her stomach even pushed outward a little bit now. On one level, this distressed her, because she had spent much of her life struggling to keep her weight under control. On another, she knew from a few days ago, when she had helped him to shower, that Rukh'jei liked how she was looking of late. That both pleased and distressed her.

He's not your husband. It shouldn't matter what he likes.

Except it did matter. Since he had first come back seriously injured, she had slept next to him every night. They had never really discussed it. By mutual agreement, it had simply happened, continuing even after he had moved from the floor near the outside door to her bed. Even Stevie hadn't questioned it, seeming quite happy to get his own bed all to himself again. Michelle slept better with Rukh'jei than she did alone or even with Stevie. To be honest, she slept more soundly with Rukh'jei than she had with her husband. Unlike Gary, the hunter always seemed genuinely grateful for her presence, purring gently into the top of her head. While she felt stupid just thinking of it in these terms, sleeping against Rukh'jei made her feel nothing so much as loved.

I don't even know if he knows what that is, she chided herself, blushing furiously at her thankfully mute kitchen. Remember, Shell, you're in here To. Make. Dinner.

Besides, Michelle wasn't sure why she even liked Rukh’jei at times. When they were awake, he had been far from the ideal patient. She could tell it hurt his pride to need her help. He had been snappish and difficult with her about it, until a few days ago, when he had taken a half-hearted swipe at her. Not long before it happened, Stevie had walked in on the two of them, naked in the bathtub together. Rukh’jei had grown irritable with her afterwards, culminating in the attempted swat. Furious, she had threatened to beat his ass if he tried that again. They had both stared at each other challengingly, breathing hard, until Rukh'jei had started laughing at the ludicrousness of her doing any such thing. While he was far from well, the Yautja was healed enough that, even with only one fully functioning arm, the outcome of any fight between them was not in doubt. His mockery had stung her, making her shed unwanted tears. To her surprise, he had apologized to her and had since made a sincere effort to behave better.

"Chell?" he called from her bedroom.

It had been ten days since the Nowt had attacked him, and though largely healed, Rukh'jei still tired easily. Michelle could only surmise that he had nearly bled to death from the wounds the Mowt had inflicted on him, because he didn't react as if he found the wounds themselves the reason for his slow convalescence. When she peeked into the room, he was sitting up, looking puzzled.

"Trophies?" he asked, uncertainly.

He must not remember having asked me about them, Michelle guessed as she went to get his precious bones.

During one of his more lucid moments while he hovered near death, Rukh’jei had asked her where they went. His question had served to remind her that she had dumped them unceremoniously on the kitchen counter and would need to clean them before the stench grew unbearable. The next time he slept, she undertook that odious task. She was forced to stop twice to throw up during the grisly process, which had been lengthy. Even now, she was sure the bones wouldn't be clean enough to suit him, but she had gotten them to the point where at least they weren't stinking up the house.

When she placed them in his lap, Rukh'jei eyed them for an inordinate amount of time before finally gazing up at her in wonderment. "You?"

Michelle felt sudden embarrassment, the question prompting her to think that having cleaned his trophies might be some kind of overture. "Th-they would've smelled bad," she nodded, stammering a hurried explanation.

He reached out to touch her arm. "It's okay, Chell," he reassured her, and then pointed at the bones. "Look good."

"More trophies, more children," she noted, knowing how pleased he must be to have two sets of Mowt bones to present to possible mates.

"More mating," he corrected, pointedly.

She was keenly aware of the pressure of his hand on her arm, his thumb resting over the suddenly racing pulse at her wrist. A rush of warmth swept through her, too strong to easily explain away. Michelle had felt faint twinges of possible desire around him before, but she had attributed them to the circumstances at the time. Besides, she had been exhausted, too thin and responsible for a small baby, who required frequent nursing; the last thing she would've seriously considered was any kind of sexual activity. She wasn't any of those things now.

"Mama!" Stevie shouted urgently from the bathroom. "I had a accident!"

Immediately, Rukh'jei released her so she could tend her son.

******

Rukh'jei stared at his own hand in wonderment as she scampered out of the room.

What made me do that?

Trophies were sacred; he could scarcely believe it had taken him all this time to ask her what had become of his second set. You knew they were safe with Chell. Short of bearing his child, he could think of no higher honor Michelle could've bestowed upon him than cleaning his trophies for him while he was convalescing. It was difficult not to assume she had done so to curry his favor, but perhaps he had judged her motive unfairly.

Chell is not Yautja, Rukh’jei reminded himself yet again. How would she know what this would mean to you? Maybe she cleaned them because they stank.

The scent she left hanging tantalizingly in the air, however, was unmistakable. Rukh'jei had thought he had perhaps caught a whiff of it a time or two before, but it had never been like this. On those other occasions, she had also reeked of milk and had seemed, at best, indifferent, and, at worst, a little afraid of him. While she no longer smelled of milk, she didn't smell as if she was in heat either, yet there was no denying that something about his touch, his teasing or both had elicited interest from her. An interest he was no longer unwilling to explore.

Michelle had changed a lot since he had first arrived, unannounced, in her dwelling. At the time, she had been short and scrawny, with pale eyes too large for her otherwise profoundly ugly face, the whole framed by sickly-colored, lank hair. So jarring had her appearance been that he hadn't even recognized her as female at first. The double good fortune of a Nowt kill and a care package of supplies from the sky had gradually transformed her.

While he knew her breasts were beautiful, the rest of her had filled out to match them. Her boniness had disappeared under enticing curves. With improved nutrition, her odd-hued hair had developed a becoming shine, the gold threads in it easily visible anytime she was in decent lighting. To Rukh’jei’s surprise, Michelle’s face was actually improved by the addition of more flesh to round out its contours. Her large, blue eyes seemed more proportional in it now. She still possessed her horror of a mouth, but he had grown accustomed to it, had learned to appreciate the nuances of feeling she could express with it. Although he doubted he would ever consider her pretty, her appearance was increasingly agreeable to him.

It wasn't just Michelle's appearance and interest that appealed to him, however. While she wasn't in heat, he wondered if perhaps she would be soon, because her scent was changing in subtle ways he couldn't quite identify. Elements of it tickled his brain and intensified his awareness of her as a female. Although most wouldn't act upon it, it wasn't unusual for Yautja females to become more easily aroused as they were approaching a heat cycle. Maybe human females were similar.

Life is strange, he considering, idly stroking one of his trophy skulls. I have two sets of coveted Nowt bones that will earn me premium mating rights when I go home, but all I can think about is a little alien female who doesn't even care about them.

He studied the set of bones she had cleaned. Despite the fact that she had none of the equipment he used to strip every bit of flesh from them and buff them until they gleamed whitely, Michelle had done a remarkable job. Rukh'jei remembered her vomiting when he had removed the trophies from the Nowt he had dragged into the house. Cleaning his latest trophies, a chore he would've relished, couldn't have been an easy task for her. He wasn't sure he could begin to share with her how much this meant to him, even if she had only done it to preserve the pleasant odor of the air in her dwelling.

Setting the trophies down on Michelle's bed, he decided to make a foray into the common room, but when he set his feet on the floor and started to stand, he was overwhelmed by dizziness. Abruptly, he sat back down for a moment. Rukh'jei despised his continued weakness and his most recent interaction with Michelle gave him a new cause for concern over it. While he was more than strong enough to deal with anything Michelle might dish out during a mating, he wasn't sure if he would have enough stamina to satisfy her. Many Yautja females became pregnant the first or second time, but there were some who had to be mated several times. Generally, if pregnancy didn't occur in the first few days, both partners would turn to different mates.

It suddenly struck him right between the eyes. Chell wouldn't get pregnant, would she? If she goes into heat and doesn't get pregnant, what will make it stop?

He knew enough biology to know that, since they were different species, such a pregnancy shouldn't be possible. And even if it somehow was, Michelle's body would surely reject a hybrid fetus as unviable. If she did become pregnant, even if it didn’t last long, her heat would stop, but what if pregnancy couldn't occur? Then what would happen? An unending heat like that had been known to drive Yautja females mad. He had already dealt with a crazy Michelle once and had no desire to do so again. Puzzled, he finally decided there wasn't any point in worrying about it until the time came. If it came.