Chapter 22

Lily

My mind goes into overdrive, screaming at me that this is a terrible idea. Ravok is badly injured, and here I am considering letting him use the toilet. He's not my first patient to balk at the sight of a bedpan. Images of potential disasters dance in my mind – a slippery fall or a reopened wound. This is madness. Yet a fleeting glance at Ravok… there's something about his stubborn, icy gaze that compels me to help, to aid him in maintaining his dignity.

"This is a terrible idea," I warn him. "Yes, you are healing at an insane rate, but you are very far from one hundred percent. What if we make it worse? Why must you be stubborn and not pee in the bottle?" Based on the defiant look on Ravok's face when I gesture at the bottle, even if he could understand my words, it would fall on deaf ears.

Despite the screaming objections inside my head, I find myself pointing toward the bathroom. I mime with exaggerated gestures my intent to help him off the floor and down the hallway. "This," I say, pointing at him – then my arms go around his tall form, pretending to lift him, "and that," pointing down the hall that leads to the bathroom like it's our shared goal.

Ravok's bright glowy eyes fasten onto mine, and their intensity makes my heart flutter. His gaze flickers towards the bathroom and then back to me. I hold my breath, waiting for his response.

Unexpectedly, Ravok dips his chin, a single, sharp nod that speaks volumes. He trusts me to help. How the hell am I going to get his enormous ass off the ground without breaking my own back?

My heart races a little faster as I roll up my sleeves. "Please don't let me regret this," I mutter. I brace myself for what could possibly be one of the craziest things I've ever done, I look up at the alien once more.

"All right, we can do this. We're gonna need to move slowly, okay?" I murmur, bracing myself against the hardwood floor. I move closer to him, squatting until I'm almost sitting on his lap. I wrap one arm around his bulky frame, feeling the ridges and grooves of his alien physique, so uniquely different yet familiar.

"Easy, buddy," I whisper, securing my grip around his waist. He wraps his splinted arm around my shoulder and the other he presses against the floor. I count to three and with a surge of adrenaline, I try to lift him, each fiber of my being straining against the taxing effort. It's like trying to lift a truck.

I grit my teeth, stifling a gasp as my thighs and back protest. But I refuse to give up. I lean back, pulling Ravok with the concentrated force of all my straining muscles.

With sharp grunts of exertion escaping from his gritted teeth, Ravok slowly, painstakingly starts getting upright. I'm panting now, sweat trickling down the small of my back and my vision blurring at the edges, but I hardly notice. The luminous-eyed alien getting to his feet, his muscles flexing under the artificial light, overshadows everything else.

"Just a little more, Ravok," I grunt at him, readjusting my grip around his waist. Finally, with one last excruciating pull, I hoist him up, the sheer force of it having us stumble against each other. His face contorts with effort and pain, but he doesn't seem like he's re-injured himself.

Both of us are trembling by the time we get Ravok on his feet. But, holy shit, we did it.

For a moment, we stand there, gripping onto each other. As my heart thuds erratically against my chest, I can't help but marvel at this shared accomplishment. I ignore the aching pain radiating through my arms, legs, and back. I'm too drained and adrenaline-wired to find it half as strange as I should.

"Okay, let's do this," I suggest. I'm worried that if we wait too long, we'll use up his remaining energy before we can get him to the bathroom.

I tuck myself under his uninjured armpit and we make our way in slowing, mincing steps to the bathroom. When we get there, I leave him leaning heavily against the doorframe while I point to the toilet and give it a flush to demonstrate its use. Then, I show him the taps for the sink and point out the soap. I get the impression that these things are familiar to him.

As I turn back to assist him to the toilet, it's then that it registers that Ravok is completely nude. The evidence is staring me in the face. We left the blanket back on the living room floor.

Holy third limb, Batman. I quickly avert my eyes from the club swinging between Ravok's thighs, but the image of his dick has been permanently burned onto the back of my retinas.

"Uh, um, let's get you set up in here," I stammer. I hold out my hand, noting how my fingers tremble, for Ravok to take. I help him over to the toilet.

When he stands in front of it, I hesitate. "Do you need my help?" I cut my eyes towards his groin and then to the waiting porcelain bowl. I have no idea how to ask him if he needs help with this next part.

Ravok doesn't answer me, but he does gently nudge me away. I turn my back and stand outside the open door, just out of sight. I'm not sure if I've ever been so mortified in my life.

Captain Awkward reporting for duty and offering to hold your cock while you pee.

My heart pounds against my ribcage as I dash into the bedroom I've been occupying. I can't bring myself to put Ravok back on the floor – he needs a real bed. I turn on the lamp sitting on the nightstand, flooding the darkened room with soft light. Then, I quickly pull down the heavy quilt and fluff the pillows.

The sound of a toilet flushing has me rushing back to Ravok.

I find him leaning against the porcelain sink, washing his enormous, graphite-colored hands. Turning to get him a fresh towel from the tiny linen closet, I come face to face with Ravok, or rather, his back. While his shimmering skin is captivating, the muscles of his ass instantly steal my gaze. It looks as solid as marble and beefy but with deep indents on each side. It's like viewing an art piece. I swallow thickly, realizing that the view from the back is just as good as the front. Shaking myself out of ogling my patient, I look up and catch his reflection in the mirror. Those snowy irises hold mine, a knowing smirk ghosting his lips. Busted. So very busted.

I clear my throat and point to my open bedroom door, uttering, "Ravok's room."

I repeat the phrase, hoping the repetition will help him to understand.

I guide him towards his new quarters with an arm wrapped securely around his waist. It's a slow process, his steps awkward and stuttered. Inch by inch, we maneuver him into the room. Finally, we're able to slowly sit him on the bed and swing his legs onto the mattress. I help lower him onto the pillows and then drag the quilt over his body. This time I'm careful to keep my eyes to myself. I need to get some clothes for my alien. For both our sakes.

With Ravok finally tucked into the bed, I bring my gaze to his, his eyes reflecting my concern. "Hungry?" I ask, more out of hope than certainty. He looks at me, his eyes a beacon of luminosity in the gloominess of the room. He hesitates before slowly nodding.

I mime drinking. "Water?"

The alien nods again. Holding up a finger to him, an unspoken promise to be quick, I dash out of the room and towards the kitchen.

I scoop the last of the soup into a bowl and get it into the microwave. I grimace because I'm worried it's not enough food. I have no idea how many calories an alien needs to consume. I'm sure his massive form burns a ton of calories, and that's before you include healing injuries at a superhero rate. He's going to need something heartier than soup. Opening the fridge, I take a quick inventory. Spotting a container of cut fruit, I grab it. Grabbing a wooden tray I'd spotted earlier in a cabinet, I balance the bowl of soup, a plate of fruit, and a glass of iced water on it.

I rush back to the bedroom, wanting to return to Ravok as soon as possible. I know I'm being silly, but I don't like the idea of him being out of sight. He's still recovering from a crash. My shoulders drop in relief to find him exactly as I left him, propped up in my bed.

Edging slowly around the room, taking care not to trip over the thick rug the bed sits on, I make it to his side. His white, almost opalescent eyes watch me as if I'm the most bizarre thing he's ever witnessed. And given that he's an alien covered in surgical scars, I imagine he's seen a thing or two.

The blanket is pushed down to his waist, leaving his broad chest on display. I'm taken aback once again by his alien physique. He looks like a titan formed from pure titanium. "Here, Ravok," I say softly, positioning the tray on his lap.

Ravok's glowing eyes follow my movements, starkly contrasting his inert body. I reach to spoon a piece of watermelon to his lips, hoping the sweet fruit will appeal to him. Ravok raises a long, silver hand lightly grabbing my wrist and stopping my help.

"Gllachhc zorkh," He growls out in a low, rumbly voice, his low voice tinged with a strange resonance that makes my heart skip a beat.

He plucks the spoon from my fingers, giving me a pointed stare. Okay, message received. He can feed himself.

"Alright, but if you need help, you let me know," I answer, wagging a finger at him. His glowing gaze seems to soften, a tiny hint of gratitude sparkling in his bright, white eyes.

I back away, giving Ravok room to eat in peace but not going far – just in case he needs help. I notice my phone, sitting forgotten on the polished oak of the nightstand. The blue notification light blinks rapidly in the dimness – a beacon of missed calls and messages. I forgot that I put it on silent. A hiss of frustration winds through my teeth as I take a second to pick it up. I check the time, surprised that it's not as late as I'd originally thought.

My fingers swipe across the screen and my heart drops. Aunt Zizi… multiple messages of concern and a handful of missed calls. How could I forget? She must have been worried.

"Damn it, Lily," I whisper to myself, the sound barely escaping the muffled quiet of the room.

Ravok eats silently, watching me with those hauntingly perceptive eyes. Doing some quick mental math, I realize that it's late afternoon in New Zealand, so I quickly tap Aunt Zizi's name to give her a call.

The phone barely finishes one ring before Aunt Zizi answers my call.