by Ann Aguirre
With a groan, she tumbled onto her makeshift mattress and stretched, twisting from side to side. Her back popped, and her nerves throbbed from the cuts on her calves, though they had been sealed.
“Thanks. I appreciate the way you look after him at the Choosing and how you—”
“This is the least I can do. Since he’s your nestling, I should become proficient at caring for him as well.”
“Aw. You’re offering to be my doggy daddy?” That was a rhetorical question, and she could only imagine how the translator was expressing that joke. It was interesting what idioms it managed to process and which ones it shrugged and quit over.
“Yes,” said Zylar. “It is an equitable trade, as you are giving your best in the Choosing with the intention of guarding my nestlings in the future.”
“About that…”
Beryl propped herself on an elbow and patted the edge of the platform. He’d said he couldn’t lie with her but sitting should be fine. The Barathi sat in the arena, and Zylar even slept that way, albeit with some weird equipment.
“What is it, Terrible One?”
“Well, I was wondering…how, exactly?”
“How…?”
Crap, he’s going to make me ask outright. With a mental sigh, Beryl went for it. “How are we supposed to have these nestlings, exactly? It seems highly unlikely that our biological systems are compatible. We don’t even breathe the same air.”
“Ah, you’re curious.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem offended by the question as he settled at the edge of the dais. “There will be scientific assistance, of course. Our genetic materials will be provided to the Committee for Reproductive Viability, and they will meld our best qualities into the strongest possible nestlings, who will be bestowed upon us once we are settled in our partnership.”
“Then I’m not expected to…gestate our offspring?”
Zylar churred. “Certainly not. Our physiological differences are such that incubating our young might do irreparable harm.”
“That’s a relief,” Beryl admitted.
“Were you worried about this? You should have asked sooner.” Hesitantly, Zylar reached out a claw and ran it lightly across her head, toying with a few strands of hair. “This is a comforting gesture, yes? I’m doing it correctly?”
Smiling, she tilted her head back, letting him pet her. “Yes, it feels good. And it’s making me want to ask something else…”
“Please do.”
“You said we’d get in trouble if we exchanged genetic material without approval. Why, if we can’t reproduce without an assist from the science team?”
Without waiting for him to respond, she moved closer and tested a theory. She’d imagined it wouldn’t be comfortable to cuddle up with him, and when she leaned on his chitin, she confirmed it. Yeah, not cozy at all. Zylar gazed down at her with an unreadable expression as she moved off, still close enough for him to keep stroking her head. Quietly he resumed the soothing touch.
“Certain rules have no exceptions,” Zylar said, then. “Barathi couples require no aid to create nestlings, and their pre-Choosing congress is restricted for that reason. I believe I explained about prior issues with overpopulation?”
“Yeah…oh!” Suddenly she thought she understood. “The rule’s in play regardless, and it applies to out-bonded couples as well, even if they can’t go around making babies. It’s just…to keep a level playing field or whatever? So we don’t enjoy privileges unavailable to Barathi competitors.”
“I don’t follow,” Zylar said.
It was a tad embarrassing to say out loud, but she was already committed. “Well, think about it. If you were free to seduce me, you could get me hooked sexually. That way, you’d be guaranteed that I would Choose you in the second round, right? Because I wouldn’t be able to get enough of that delicious Zylar action.”
That being the case, Beryl could understand why they didn’t ordinarily let contenders stay with their would-be partners. Too much intimacy would let them bond faster. She hadn’t understood why the Matriarch was so surprised when she asked to stay with Zylar. Now the pieces were starting to come together.
I wonder why she let me do it. I mean, if I understood right, it’s not technically against the rules, just kind of irregular. Maybe she didn’t want Zylar to fail this time? So when I wanted to stick with him, she allowed it, hoping constant proximity would give him an edge.
Beryl was already moving on, but he made a sound she didn’t recognize; the translator fritzed on it as well. It was like Zylar was trying to speak and failing.
Finally he said, “You’re implying that I could provide pleasure profound enough to cause you to…imprint on me and…” He fell silent again, his neck ruff half-flared.
“It wasn’t a challenge or anything. I mean, I wasn’t asking you for sex. In fact, I’m not even sure how that would go. I was just saying it’s theoretically possible, so I understand the embargo on sexual contact, even between out-bonded pairs.”
“Are you teasing? Or trying to tempt me?” he asked.
“What? How am I… I think the translator is screwing with us again. Like the time you thought I was asking for coitus and I was actually cursing.”
“You’re cursing me?”
“Oh Lord. I’m not! But while we’re on the subject, I might as well go all-in. Can you explain how we’re supposed to…mate? If we do, that is. If the science team is making our babies, I guess we’d only do it for fun.”
Now his neck-ruff was fully frilled, quivering even to the naked eye, just as it had when she was touching it. Beryl didn’t know how it went with the Barathi, but she figured that arousal started there. Did that mean she’d turned him on just by asking how sex worked? On one level, that was flattering as hell, but it also spoke to a fair amount of repression, if the mere mention of mating could get him ready to go.
“You’re definitely tempting me.” His voice held that dual-edged growl that was sexier than she wanted it to be. “But I cannot fathom whether it is intentional or not.”
“I was just asking for a verbal explanation,” she whispered. “Since I don’t think we have…congruent anatomy.”
“An explanation…or a demonstration?” Something about his eyes didn’t look the same; the fluttering membrane was in play, and the color was brighter, sharper, more like live crystal than they had been before.
Though it was likely a terrible idea, she wanted to touch his neck ruff again and see what happened. It wouldn’t help if she explained about human parameters. Strictly speaking, humans had sex for pleasure with all kinds of genitalia, so maybe it wouldn’t be that different with an alien. They just had to figure out what felt good, do some experimenting, and that sounded fun as well. Zylar was all revved up, but she wasn’t supposed to make a move, because Choosing rules said not to.
What the hell. Rules were made to be broken.
[ 11 ]
Zylar sensed his control slipping.
At any moment, he would show Beryl something that only a bonded partner was meant to see, but she was so intent, watching him with those bright eyes, that he couldn’t master himself and part of him didn’t even want to stop. He waited for her response, conscious of heat and tingling inside his thorax.
“A demonstration,” she said softly. “I would enjoy…knowing what’s in store.”
That was permission. She wanted to see what his body looked like when he was ready to mate, and with a pained sound, he let it happen at last. His neck ruff stood high as his abdominal plates shifted, revealing four slits, quivering and vulnerable. A Barathi would not be able to resist the pheromones he was releasing and would be upon him immediately. Beryl slid closer to examine the changes in his body.
“How does this work exactly?” She spoke quietly, but the low volume couldn’t disguise the deepening of her tone.
Her scent was a little different too, richer and muskier. Perhaps it was the human equivalent of pheromones. The scent of her didn’t fill him with desire, but it
signaled her interest, and Zylar let the pleasure of that response wash over him. By his display, they were skirting the boundaries of the Choosing, but as far as he knew, the rule was against mating only. He had never heard of any proscription against exchanging information instead of genetic material. That rationale might even save them, should an inquiry be forced by that flavork, Ryzven.
“In this state, I am…ready,” he said. “More…preparation is better, of course. It allows for a thorough exchange of genetic materials.”
“If your partner was Barathi, what would happen now?”
“They would massage my neck ruff, causing me to lubricate. I would stimulate them in turn, until their claspers extruded. Then they would penetrate me and collect spermatophores, the more the better.”
Just talking about it was exciting him, and it couldn’t happen tonight for a variety of reasons. Yet her smell was ripening even more, and though the power of it was diminished, her pheromones were starting to work on him, clouding his mind. He reached for her hair, remembering she liked it when he played with her fur. As soon as he touched her, she emitted a sound that he intuited as a pleasure response.
“Go on,” she invited.
He didn’t know if she meant the explanation or for him to keep touching her, so he did both, claws scraping lightly against her head as he spoke. “Mating can last up to a span, if both parties are fully engaged. When partners disengage, they may be exhausted or dehydrated. The female then fertilizes the eggs with the collected genetic material and lays them in the nest, where they will share the task of guarding them until development is complete.”
“Tell me about the claspers.” Beryl tipped her head back, eyes half-closed.
“Barathi females have four gynosomes with hooked tips to allow them to latch on and collect spermatophores. Each time I ejaculate internally, they take that material. Which is good, because it contains nutrients our nestlings require for healthy gestation.”
“So the more pleasure you receive, the better the exchange,” she whispered.
“Yes, you understand fully now. And since you have received clarification, I must…” Words failed him because she was touching his neck ruff again. Now that he knew she had full cognizance of what that overture signified, Zylar’s body responded reflexively, lubricating in preparation for more.
That felt glorious, and his head went fuzzy with the pleasure of her soft strokes. No Barathi partner would have been so tender or careful, and they could not have touched the webbing at all for fear of causing harm, so her delicacy provided another level of sensation, curling through his nerves, until he couldn’t contain the hiss, and that only seemed to encourage her. She kept caressing him, and the lubrication continued, until he could feel it on the flesh beneath his chitin. Zylar had never heard of anyone becoming this aroused and not mating, so he had no idea if self-denial would be painful. Even if it was, he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to stop, not when she seemed so invested in this exploration.
On her own, she paused, eyes locked on his glistening genitalia. A complex cocktail of pride and shame suffused him; no Barathi partner would simply stare at his body this way, but he didn’t hate the way her interest made him feel. Then she lowered her hands, and he thought she was finally finished tormenting him.
But her avid stare didn’t let him calm down either. It was impossible for him to draw back with so much fascination fixed on his sex organs. In fact, he could feel them lubricating further, puffing outward in hopes of attracting her. He hadn’t even known that was possible, and it was starting to feel uncomfortable, an ache in his thorax from the internal swelling of uncollected spermatophores. In time it would certainly fade, the genetic material being reabsorbed, but meanwhile—
“We can’t exchange genetic material,” Beryl said.
Zylar stirred in confusion. “Yes, I’m aware. It’s against the Choosing rules.”
“No, I mean, we’re not physiologically compatible. We can’t do it on our own. Which means, strictly speaking, any contact we have for pleasure isn’t reproductive sex, per se.”
With his mind so muddy, that made sense. “True. But…”
“Then…does that mean I can touch you? I really want to. I’ll stop if I make you uncomfortable, or if it doesn’t feel good.”
Though he had no idea what she intended to do to him, he said immediately, “You have my permission.”
She murmured something that he didn’t catch, and then she rubbed a spot on his posterior side that made all his defensive spines stand up. Normally that reaction triggered in response to a perceived threat, not sexual stimulation, but since her grabbers were shaped different than Barathi claws, she could fondle the vulnerable spots between the spines, and more pleasure rocketed through him. She gave such unusual sensations, impossible, improbable pleasure, by indulging her boundless curiosity. He shifted restlessly at the edge of her nest, conscious of the ferocious throb in his thorax, so profound now that he could barely think.
She probably doesn’t know how desperate I feel.
Now, she was carefully stroking each of his spines, and he hadn’t known they possessed any nerve endings since the Barathi didn’t touch them. But apparently, they were as sensitive as his neck ruff, conveying urgent pulses of sensation throughout his body. He hissed, pushing his torso forward in an uncontrollable mating display.
“Oooh, you like that. How about this?”
This…was an indescribable sensation. She was behind him now, and she was right; there was no way they could mate this way, but there was warmth and heat on his neck ruff. Not her grabbers, but Zylar had no sense of how she was providing this stimulation, only that it was gentle and exquisite, lingering and delicate, and pleasure flooded his entire body. He was so ready to mate that the softest pressure would probably set him off. Knowing it was fruitless, he still yielded to the impulse to rub his forelimbs together, the chitin producing the most intimate of songs, one he should only create when his beloved was mounted to him.
“You’re…singing?” she asked.
When she spoke, the incredible feeling ceased. Did that mean she was creating that sensation with her talking and eating orifice? Inconceivable.
“Yes,” he managed to say, but an explanation was beyond him.
“Is that a good thing? The translation isn’t telling me anything.”
“Yes,” Zylar said again, like it was the only word he recollected.
“Just making sure. I love the way you taste, by the way. I wasn’t expecting that.”
His words evaporated again because that feeling was back, moving on his neck ruff until he had to dig his claws into her nest to hold still. The need to mate pounded through him, and his whole body throbbed, not just his thorax, as if pleasure might devour him from the inside out. Then the sensation shifted to his defensive spines, and Zylar hissed again, in short, irresistible bursts. He couldn’t stop the sounds any more than he could stop the lubrication trickling down his body.
“I need you to cease,” he finally growled. “The stimulation is too much.”
“Too much? I’m sorry.” True to her word, she pulled back and appeared in front of him, eyes wide.
Zylar tried to put distance between them because even her smell was driving him wild, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate. “No need…for regrets. Just…let me…”
“If you tell me what I did wrong, I’ll make sure I don’t do it again.”
“Not wrong. But there are limits to how much stimulation I can endure without…” He couldn’t decide how to complete that sentence, but fortunately, she understood.
“Without needing to finish?” she guessed.
Dear God. How can I be this turned on from touching and kissing him a bit?
Back on Earth in her former life, this would have barely qualified as some petting, but she could tell that he was so excited, he could hardly sit still, a fact reinforced by his hissing and shivering, and the way his whole body jerked when she touched her lips to one of his
spines. Now it looked like he was in physical withdrawal, shaking through a bad reaction.
I got him this worked up. I should help him.
Sure, frame like a good deed when you’re dying to continue. She didn’t have claspers, but she had fingers, and she had a fairly good idea what she could do with them. It might be enough to get him off. Taking a deep breath, she made sure Snaps was still asleep and went for it.
“Let me see what I can do,” she offered.
“Do?” He sounded dazed, his voice deep and reverberating with that low note that made her tighten her thighs and squirm. The bioluminescence was back, glimmering in his skin like leashed lightning, perhaps some indication of his excitement.
He wasn’t the only one lubricating. Beryl had seldom been this wet in her life, and she didn’t know what that said about her, except that it turned her on something fierce to experience how easily she could drive him wild. Being desired was a hell of an aphrodisiac.
“I want to touch you more. Not for stimulation. For…completion. Yes or no?”
“Yes,” Zylar said, so quickly that she figured he must be dying.
Normally he was pretty gung-ho about sticking to the rules, but she doubted he gave a shit about the Choosing right then. His whole body was focused on her every movement, mind fuzzy with powerful lust. It was heady, seeing how she’d gotten him trembling and breathless without even half trying, though it was mutual. She needed some pressure between her legs and fast, but…
Let’s take care of him first.
She could masturbate, but she suspected that it would be tough, if not outright impossible, for his arms to bend that way, and his claws would probably hurt if he tried to touch himself. Hopefully, his fluids wouldn’t hurt her skin. Probably she should have asked that beforehand, but the question would be a mood-breaker. Sometimes you had to gamble.
Nervous and excited in equal measures, she first touched the external flesh of his arousal, testing the lubrication on her fingertips. It didn’t burn or sting, so that was a good sign. He reacted with a jolt to her exploratory caress, hissing in what she’d think was a protest, if she didn’t already know it was a pleasure sound.
