14. Ryoch
14
RYOCH
O f course, Charlotte gasped. Until a few days ago, she didn’t know about the existence of aliens or shifters. I still flinched.
Wary of her reaction, I watched her eyes and scented the air, alert for any tell that she was fearful or disgusted. What I found was the opposite. Her gaze was appreciative, her perfume blooming.
“You’re… Ryoch, you’re so beautiful. Your skin…”
How much of my appearance had she sensed as my mate? Maybe not the reddish hue of my skin, with its darker coloring around the backs of my arms and shoulders. Had she seen my ta’laps ?
I came to my knees in front of her, and she reached out an unsteady hand.
“Touch me, Charlotte.” I took her hand, holding it to my jaw. “I’m yours. Nothing you could do is wrong.”
Her scent sweetened, and her shoulders relaxed. I guided her fingers into my hair, lowering my head so that she could reach my horns.
“I thought I saw these,” she mumbled. Her voice was hushed. “I think I actually saw most of you.” She stroked around the base of my horns, and I couldn’t help a low moan. “Are these sensitive?”
“Yes. Use them to pull me forward or push me back. I’m likely to take on a dominant physical role. It’s my nature. But you’re always in control, sta’la .”
Sta’la. My mate, my love. She didn’t ask what it meant, but I thought she had a sense.
My words seemed to give her confidence. Charlotte traced the shell of my ear.
“Your hair looks the same.”
I bit back a groan at the light brush of her fingertips. “It’s similar to human hair, yes. Some of the crew shift the color, but the texture and length don’t require a change.”
Her fingers trailed down, over my true, more elongated face and pronounced cheekbones. I smiled when she reached my lips, and her eyes widened at the sight of my teeth.
“Those aren’t fangs, are they?”
“Just a little sharper than yours. Like my nails.” I held up my hand to show her my rounded black claws.
She placed her palm on mine and gave a short laugh at how much larger my hand was. Then she continued in her exploration, running her hands up along my arms to my shoulders, over my collarbone, down my chest to my stomach. My skin awoke under her caress, thrumming along the path she took.
I could tell from her sly smile that she was pleased. Her motions slowed as she neared my hard shaft, and she looked up at me.
“This is still okay?”
In answer, I stretched out on my back in front of her. “Yes, sta’la . My cock aches for your touch.” Come was already leaking from the tip.
She hovered above me for a moment, unsure. Then she reached down to slide her hand over my length. Without thinking, I sent a ta’lap to wrap around her arm and pull her closer, regretting it instantly at her sharp intake of breath.
“Tentacle,” she whispered. “I’ve been dreaming of tentacles.”
Thankfully, her scent was still aroused, not fearful.
“ Ta’laps . In the same way that our skin allows for shifting, it also supports ta’laps . We use them for any number of tasks, even for gesturing.” I looked pointedly at the one coiled around her arm. “It’s instinctive to wrap our mates with our ta’laps , to secure and protect them.”
“Tentacles,” she insisted, following my gaze. “They even have suckers.”
While she stared at my ta’lap , her hand tightened around my cock. I managed a strangled laugh. “I’m not an octopus. We have drols on our ta’laps and our cocks, not suckers. They provide a textured surface for gripping.”
“These studs?” Charlotte rubbed her thumb over a row of drols that circled my cock, and my stomach clenched as I tried not to thrust. “Okay, not suckers. But these are still tentacles. How many do you have?” She used her free hand to glide along the smooth upper surface of my ta’lap .
“Call them whatever you want, sta’la .” It was becoming increasingly difficult to speak. “I can technically produce unlimited tentacles ,” I emphasized the word with a grin, “but in practice I can’t use more than about six at a time efficiently.”
By way of demonstration, I sent another to snake along her collarbone. It disappeared down the top of her shirt, and her eyes fluttered shut.
“You can feel with them? Like extra fingers?” Her pelvis jerked as my ta’lap slipped under her bra, sliding against her lush breast. The tip rubbed over her nipple, pinching slightly, and she moaned.
“Exactly.”
I sent another ta’lap under her shirt to give the same attention to the other breast, teasing both nipples at once. Even as she moaned louder, she didn’t forget that her hand was still around my cock. Her grip slid down over the hard length, until her fist encountered my seal ringing the base.
She spoke around beautiful little gasps. “I was…wondering what that would feel like. It’s pushing against my fist. It feels like…tongues.”
My seal throbbed against her hand, making it difficult for me to concentrate.
“This is the first time I’ve felt it pulsing and engaging. It will only do that for my mate. For you, my sta’la .”
She stiffened. I’d called her my sta’la repeatedly, and now she could be in no doubt about the meaning. Maybe she didn’t realize the full significance…that I was in love with her. But she understood enough.
Tonight didn’t need to be about that. My instincts urged me to fill her with my seed, seal her, mark her. But it was too soon. There were other things we could do.
I gently lifted her hand off my cock, ignoring the pang of loss when my seal released.
“What are you doing?”
“Let me taste you, Charlotte.” I cupped her cheek and made sure she was looking into my eyes. “I want your slick on my tongue. Let me prepare you with my lithis and my tentacles.”
“Yes.” She tilted her head back and hissed out a breath as I pinched her nipples. “And on second thought, I think I prefer ta’laps .”
“Anything you want, Charlotte. Anything.”