Chapter 6

Serval

Cursing violently and elaborately in Urvu, the deepsea language of his people, Serval rested his head down on his hand, against the shower wall, as he tugged roughly at his cock. The cleansing mist made his body slick as it fell over him.

Sophie's beautiful face, her bright smile, was burned into his head.

Humans were already so sexual. This female that was apparently his mate was the most beautiful, sensual creature he'd ever seen. All soft curves, from her hair to her body to her little feet in her elevated shoes. Stunning. Soft. Absolutely sweet.

Hech, how was he supposed to mate her?

His olules would sting that soft, delicate flesh so badly. Not to say anything about the ovules around his cock that, even now, were reacting in a desperate urge to grasp his female. They would sting too, but in a much more sensitive place.

But he wanted her. He longed to let his ovules twist around his cock, forming a knot at the base inside her, locking her to him, while the longer, prime ovules…

He didn't know what they would do. She wouldn't have avules for them to entwine with. But he could still lock the smaller ones around the base of his cock inside her as he flooded her womb while she screamed in ecstasy.

Hech, she was so pretty. And she was his.

Serval groaned as he came, seed spurting against the shower wall. It was a relief, but it was unsatisfying and, even after the last drop oozed out, he was still hard. Still hungry for his female that was currently living in his room.

His ship was big, and he had two rooms, but when it came time to make up the guest room, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted his mate in his space, and when he saw her there for the first time, he knew he had made the right decision. The smaller guest room, where he had moved his belongings, would serve him well enough until he moved back in.

With her.

His female. Sleeping in his bed.

He cursed again, cock throbbing.

His ovules thrashed in the air, searching for his female. The shorter ones encircling his cock, the ones that swelled and wrapped around the base of the shaft to form a knot, had already unraveled, not being locked in anything. The two longer, prime ovules weaved in the air, searching for their mates. Not that his human female would have them.

His ovules were smaller than the ones on his head, but they were the same type of flesh. From the sensitivity to the color to the fact that they were stinging. To an allowee female, it wouldn't matter at all. His species were immune to their sting.

But it was well known that any allowee that mated a different species could not touch them with their olules or their ovules.

There was a procedure, of course. He could have his ovules removed, and simply make sure his olules were always bound around her. The procedure wasn't painful, not with modern medical science. He technically didn't need them. His prime ovules did secrete a fluid for lubrication, but he was fairly certain human females were self-lubricating, and even if they weren't, they could purchase lube. And the knot was useful in fertilization, but not necessarily required – especially if he was fucking his female out of the water. The knot was there to plug his female if they were in the ocean preventing water from washing his seed out. But she couldn't breathe underwater, so that wasn't a problem either.

But that still meant he would need to remove parts of his body for her safety.

That thought, finally, managed to calm his cock. It softened and he finished rinsing off in the cleansing mist as he considered the implications of having an interspecies mate.

Mating outside of one's species was very rare, but not unheard of. He wouldn't be the only allowee male to need to remove his ovules. And if the choice was keeping something that only served to enhance his pleasure, not even something that was solely responsible for it, or hurting his female with his sting, then it was hardly a choice.

But it was still one that weighed on him as he dressed for third meal.

He would need to bring it up to her in their talk. His female had a strange occupation, but she was wise in matters of emotions and relationships. Laying out their expectations and boundaries at the beginning was only good sense.

After dressing, he returned to the main room and fetched his mate. She had changed since he left her too. This time, instead of the pretty, white dress, she was wearing a pair of cute, sparkly shorts that cupped her ass like a prize and an oversized shirt that revealed one shoulder. She had also pulled her hair back into a messy tail. Thick, fuzzy socks adorned her tiny little feet and her makeup had been washed away, revealing her true, natural coloration.

Just like that, his cock was awake again, his ovules writhing in his pants, reaching for her.

"Ready for third meal?" He asked pleasantly, ignoring their desperation.

"So ready," she confirmed, stepping out of the room. "What are we eating?"

"Fish stew. My mother's recipe."

"Yummy," she beamed. "Lead the way."

The shoulder slipped further down her arm, teasing him with the soft skin of her breast. It wasn't nearly as low cut as her dress had been, but the brief glimpse of her skin made him ache.

He ignored that too, leading her down the hall. They weren't wide enough to walk abreast, but that was a good thing. Without her directly in his sight, he could get himself under control.

The galley on his ship wasn't very big. He had sacrificed a big eating area for a bigger recreation area – a choice he didn't regret. Especially now when it meant that he was forced to be closer to his female as he synthesized two bowls of steaming stew for them.

"It's not fresh," he said, setting them down at the small table. She had already climbed onto a chair, crossing her legs on it as she beamed at the offering. "But my synthesizer is top of the line, so it tastes nearly identical."

"I won't be able to tell the difference," she promised, looking over the alien food with an eager smile. "It smells amazing."

He sat across from her, picking up his utensil. She watched him with a curious expression.

"What?" He asked, pausing.

"That's the, er, spoon?"

He looked at it, and then, back to her. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head, grabbing her own. She didn't seem to know how to hold it. "Not wrong. Just, I'm used to spoons with handles. This is more like a seashell situation."

"Probably because my people used to eat with seashells," he grinned. "Modern spoons kept the design. Here. Hold it like this."

He set his spoon down and reached across the table to adjust her grip. Her little fingers, so soft and warm, moved easily under his as he adjusted her grip. She gave him a grateful smile and watched as he scooped up some stew and brought it to his mouth before mimicking him. Her eyes went wide, and she laughed as she chewed.

"It's so spicy!" She declared, her face already reddening. "Wow. Wasn't expecting that."

"Spicy?" Serval cocked his head curiously. "What do you mean?"

"You know… spicy. It's like… hot."

"Too hot?" He looked at the steam coming off her bowl. "Do you need it cooled down?"

"Huh? No, not that kind of hot. Picante. Not caliente."

"I have no idea what you just said."

She gave him a funny look. "Can you not… Does your mouth not burn?"

"It's not that hot," he said, concerned now.

"Oh, my god. You can't feel it, can you? This isn't spicy to you, is it?"

"I can taste the spices."

"Not the spices. The capsaicin. It burns. Like, it's good, don't get me wrong. But it's spicy. You really can't taste that burn?"

"Not really, no." He frowned thoughtfully. "Though, actually, now that I'm thinking about it, other species don't tend to like allowee cooking. They do say our food burns. I never really knew what that meant."

"Si. Es muy picante."

"What language are you speaking?"

"Espa?ol. My other native tongue. I was raised speaking both. Not the point. I'm still wigging out over you not being able to feel a capsaicin burn. That's fascinating to me." She was giving him a broad smile over her stew. "Is all allowee food like this?"

"For the most part, I believe. Hard to say for sure since I don't know what burn you're talking about. But you do like it, yes?" His eyes darted down to her bowl and back up again. "I can get you something else if you don't."

"No, this is fine. Mi familia es de Mexico. I'm used to spicy food. It's really good." She scooped up another bite, as though to prove her point. "Still, this is way spicy."

Serval relaxed as she continued eating. She needed to stop to drink every so often, but she told him that she liked spicy food just fine, despite her brand being built on sweets.

Their conversation through the meal was simple like that. He asked about her family from the place called Mexico. She asked about his. He told her about his mother and father and sister, how they still lived on Wav'aii, and that they often pestered him to come visit. She didn't seem bothered by that, just laughed and said it was typical of parents and hers did the same.

Once the food was gone and they put their dishes in the washer, they sat back down and faced each other over the table. The casual atmosphere was gone, and she was giving him a searching look with her elbows resting on the table.

"So," she started simply. "We're mates."

"Apparently."

"But I haven't triggered you yet?"

"I don't know if you can. You don't have any olules for me to wrap mine around."

"Right. And that's… a big deal. Right? You said it's an intimate thing to your people." She said it with such a carefully neutral tone, but he could see the hurt in her eyes.

"Do not be anxious," he hastened to reassure her. "It's alright if you can't do it. We can enjoy other things together."

"Like kissing?"

"What is that?"

She started in surprise before answering. "You know, when we, er, touch mouths. And tongues. And stuff. Kissing."

"Oh. Right. I've seen other species doing that."

"But the allowee don't?"

He grimaced. Honestly, he didn't see the allure of swapping saliva with someone. That was much messier than resting his cheek alongside his female's, their olules entwining them together in the ultimate embrace, as he made love to her.

Of course, his female didn't have olules…

"That's okay," she said quickly. "We don't have to kiss either."

He grunted in the negative, shaking his head. It was a human gesture, one that felt odd for him to perform. But, unlike his olules touching her, a kiss wouldn't hurt him. Even more than that, it was something important to her, and therefore, it was important to him.

"We can try a kiss," he assured her, offering a smile. "I've never had one. So, I can't say if I would or wouldn't like it. But I would like to try."

She smiled, and he knew he said the right thing.

"And I want to try touching your olules."

He shook his head again, the motion a bit easier the second time. "No. I don't want to sting you."

"Still, I want to try. Can I?"

She held up her hand. Serval frowned at her fingers. So soft. So delicate. He could see the blue of her veins right under her skin, it was that thin.

"My sting is painful," he cautioned her. "It's not deadly, or anything. At least, it shouldn't be. But it's meant to protect my people from predators."

"Capsaicin is painful too, but I like that." She wiggled her outstretched fingers. "I do hereby absolve you of all fault if this goes badly. Let me touch. I want to try."

He couldn't deny her anything. Not when she looked at him with that smile. The idea of hurting her crushed his soul, but how could he deny her? He desperately wanted her to touch his olules. How else would she be able to trigger him?

"Just one," he whispered, reaching back to pull the ribbon free.

The weight of his olules fell around his shoulders. Freed from their confines, they immediately began wiggling at the tips. He had control over them, mostly. But he had to consciously think about moving or keeping them still. Otherwise, they reacted reflexively.

He leaned in towards Sophie, letting only one of his olules reach for her. His entire body tensed as she stretched out her fingers. Ready to jerk back. Ready to yank himself free at the first sign of discomfort – it would happen quickly, he knew.

Sophie's two fingers swept under the single olule. It twitched and immediately began to curl around them. So sweet. So warm. So soft. It was-

Sophie gasped.

He yanked back, severing the connection.

"Are you alright?" He asked, grabbing for her hand. Searching for redness or swelling or some sign of irritation.

She laughed, turning her hand and grabbing his. "It's fine. You didn't hurt me."

He frowned. "Sophie, you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying though. I'm fine."

"You gasped."

"Yeah, because you shocked me."

"I did sting you." He checked her hands again.

But she just laughed again, reaching for his face with her other hand. "Serval, I'm fine. It was a weird, shocky kind of sting. But it didn't hurt. I mean," her face suddenly turned red. "It stung. But I kind of liked it."

He blinked at her reaction. Confused.

She took that opportunity to push her hand back from his face. Burying it into his olules. They immediately swarmed her hand. He shivered, easily feeling the warmth of her hand through the long appendages. They were like his fingers in their sensitivity. He could feel the subtle interplay of the tiny muscles of her fingers, the softness of her skin.

Sophie whimpered, but it wasn't in pain.

Serval's eyes widened as her fingers twitched in his olules. Her face reddened. Her eyes went glassy. Although she was being stung, she liked it.