Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Logan collapsed onto his bed, his skin burning with need. Every brush of fabric against his body felt like torture. Too much and not enough at the same time.

The worst part wasn't even the physical arousal. It was the memories . Every touch, every sensation from last night played through his mind in vivid detail. The way Valen's tentacles had wrapped around him, the overwhelming pleasure of being filled, claimed...

"Stop it," he growled at himself, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

But his traitorous mind wouldn't stop. And now he knew exactly what Valen was capable of, had seen inside his mind, knew all the ways the alien could take him apart...

Logan rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. He couldn't do this. Couldn't let himself want this. It wasn't just about sex—it was about letting someone in again, about being vulnerable, about risking his heart.

Jeff's face flashed through his mind, and guilt twisted in his gut. Was he betraying Jeff's memory by wanting this? By letting another being touch him, claim him?

But God, he was so empty .

His body throbbed with need, demanding attention. Logan knew he could take care of it himself, should take care of it himself. But he also knew it wouldn't be enough. Nothing would be enough except...

"No," he said aloud, voice rough. "Not happening."

Through their bond, he could feel Valen's presence in the other room. A constant, thrumming awareness that only made everything worse. The alien was probably monitoring his distress, feeling every wave of desperate need that rolled through him.

Logan pressed his face harder into the pillow, trying to block out everything. But he couldn't escape the memory of Valen's thoughts from earlier, the vivid images the alien had shared of what he could do. How he could wrap those tentacles around Logan's body, pin him down, fill him up until he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel...

His hips rocked involuntarily against the mattress.

"Fuck," he gasped, shame and arousal warring in his gut.

The really messed up part? He wasn't just remembering what had happened. His mind kept conjuring new scenarios, each more explicit than the last. Valen holding him down, taking him slowly this time, making him beg...

Logan rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling with wild eyes. His heart hammered in his chest, his whole body trembling with need.

He hadn't felt this kind of desperate want since... since Jeff. The thought sent another shock of guilt through him, but it couldn't compete with the burning in his veins.

You could have this, a treacherous voice in his mind whispered. He's right there. All you have to do is ask.

"No," Logan said again, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.

He was just going to jerk off, just to take the edge off. He slid a shaking hand down his body, and even that simple touch felt electric, his skin hypersensitive from the nectar. He fumbled with his zipper, breathing ragged. He couldn't move fast enough.

But as soon as he wrapped his hand around himself, his fears were confirmed: this wasn't going to be enough. The nectar had left him wanting something else entirely, to be filled, claimed, taken .

"Goddammit," he groaned, stroking himself roughly.

Again, his mind flooded with memories of last night, tentacles wrapping around his thighs, spreading him open, pushing inside... He tried to think of something else, anything else, but it was impossible. Every fantasy circled back to Valen, to those exploring tentacles, to that overwhelming fullness...

His back arched off the bed as he worked himself faster, chasing release. But something was missing. He needed more, needed...

No. Fuck. Don't think about it. Don't think about ? —

Release hit him hard and fast, his body jerking as pleasure crashed through him. For a brief moment, everything went white-hot and blank.

Then the temporary high wore off.

Logan lay there, chest heaving, feeling somehow even worse than before. The edge was off, but the deep, gnawing need remained. If anything, it felt more intense now. A bone-deep ache for something his own hand couldn't give him.

"Shit," he muttered, grabbing tissues from the bedside table.

He cleaned himself up, but it felt pointless. His skin still burned, his body still craved touch. His self-administered climax had done nothing to quiet the demands of the nectar in his system.

How many hours until this wore off?

Through their bond, he caught a flicker of concern from Valen. Great.

Go away.

Logan grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his face, fighting back a mix of embarrassment and lingering desire.

He was going to die before this was over.

Valen hovered near the window, watching the snow build up outside, trying desperately not to focus on the waves of need and frustration radiating from the bedroom. Every surge of Logan's desire pulled at him, calling to his own instincts to claim, to possess, to help .

But he had promised to stay away.

The last few hours had been... challenging. Three times he had felt Logan's desperate attempts to find relief, each one leaving his mate more frustrated than the last. Each time, Valen had forced himself to remain still, even as every part of his being screamed to go to him.

He didn't know what was worse; feeling Logan's physical need or the emotional turmoil that came with it. Guilt, desire, grief, shame... human emotions were so complicated .

The sound of the shower running drew his attention. Was this finally over for Logan, then?

Valen looked at the bedroom door with uncertainty. How did one approach a mate after such an experience? On Nexa, there would be no shame in seeking pleasure, no hesitation in asking for what was needed. But humans, he was learning, had so many layers of emotional complexity around physical intimacy.

Ultimately, Valen decided that he couldn't just stand there. He drifted toward the kitchen. Surely his mate would need sustenance after such an ordeal. It was the least he could do, given that he had caused this situation.

The kitchen, however, proved to be another challenge entirely. He examined the various appliances, trying to figure out the purpose of such primitive machines. The device on the counter, some sort of localized radiation chamber for heating food, seemed promising.

In the cold storage unit, he found several flat containers with food in them. Frozen meals, designed to be heated. Simple enough. He picked the largest one.

Hopefully better than that 'soup' he'd had earlier.

His tentacles manipulated the packaging carefully. It was a simple enough procedure. Remove lid, place in radiation chamber, press buttons to set time. Good thing he'd already learned this planet's way of measuring time.

Valen watched the container rotate, pleased with himself for managing this simple human task. Through their bond, he could sense Logan's exhaustion, his lingering discomfort. He would welcome a meal, wouldn't he?

The container spun, the timer he'd set counting down. Steam began to build up inside the radiation device.

The shower shut off, but Logan didn't emerge immediately. Good. The meal would be ready when he?—

A popping sound from inside the cooking device. Was that normal? Some sort of sauce was bubbling quite vigorously now, splattering against the microwave's ceiling.

When the timer finally dinged, Valen carefully extracted the container with his tentacles. The sauce had settled, and everything looked... well, cooked at least.

"What are you doing?"

Logan's voice, rough and tired, made Valen turn in surprise. His mate stood in the hallway doorway, hair still damp, wearing fresh clothes.

Logan's eyes fixed on the container. "Is that..." His face went pale. "That's...that was supposed to be Christmas dinner."

Valen brightened. "Yes! I thought you might need sustenance."

Logan came closer, staring at the meal. "How long did you microwave it?"

"I thought fifteen minutes would be enough even for primitive technology."

Valen watched his mate carefully, pride in his accomplishment fading as he sensed a shift in Logan's emotional state. Something dark and heavy, like storm clouds gathering.

"Fifteen minutes! God, Valen, you can't just..." Logan's voice cracked as he ran his hand through his damp hair. The gesture seemed involuntary, stressed. Valen could feel waves of... was that anger? But why?

Desperate to understand, Valen reached out with his tentacles, trying to bridge their mental connection. "Let me understand."

"No!" Logan jerked back, nearly colliding with the counter behind him. "We have a rule about that, remember?"

The rejection stung. Valen couldn't help the frustrated sound that escaped him. "You promised to try to be open to it. I only want to understand." How else could he learn what he'd done wrong if Logan wouldn't let him see?

Logan's laugh was wrong, harsh and cold in a way even Valen could tell had nothing to do with joy. "You will never understand, and if it wasn't snowing so damn hard outside, I'd tell you to get the fuck out of my cabin."

The words hit like physical blows. Valen's form wavered, his hold on physical shape suddenly too much effort. Without conscious thought, he let himself shift back to his natural state, energy swirling with hurt and confusion.

"The cold doesn't affect me like this." His voice resonated through the air rather than coming from a physical form. "I'll go back to my ship."

He didn't wait for a response. Couldn't bear to see if Logan would reject him again. Instead, he flowed through the cabin's door and out into the storm.

The snow fell heavily around his energy form, but he barely noticed it. Physical sensations meant little in this state. Only the ache in what humans would call his heart remained real, pulsing in time with the bond that connected him to the mate who'd just pushed him away.