Chapter 12
Keri
Another day, another embarrassing task. I wonder what I did to offend Mr. Clarence in a previous life as my eyes rake over what I’m supposed to be doing today. More measurements... and photographs. They want to study Aquana reproductive physiology which can only mean one thing.
Why me?
“Is everything well?” Ro asks, his neck craning as he peers down at my hastily written note.
I slap my hand over the sheet, my cheeks growing hotter. I know for a fact that he can’t read, but I can’t help but be embarrassed about what I’ve been instructed to observe. I don’t know why I’m surprised either. Yesterday, I spent a good half-hour photographing in detail the various ways his fins splay and their specific positions on his tail due to the fact that they are curious if Aquanas can be identified by fin patterns rather like how individual whales and orcas are recognized by their dorsal fins. That wasn’t shocking, but this... telling Ro that I need him to bring out the babymaker as we go into detail over how his kind reproduces makes me wish I could just be struck dead right on the spot.
A concerned look flickers over Ro’s face, and he reaches forward to pry my hand away from the words that he still wouldn’t be able to read. “Keri, what is it?”
It’s the note of genuine worry in his voice, however, that makes me feel terrible for my overreaction. He can’t help the fact that this is embarrassing for me. And frankly it’s embarrassing only because of the reaction I have to him. I’m quite certain that if it were the gnome who took up residence in the small hill at the end of the street in my neighborhood, I wouldn’t be quite as embarrassed. It would have been uncomfortable, but I would have been able to approach it in a detached manner. With Ro, however, the charge of desire between us is as unfortunate for what we need to do as it is uncontrollable. But that still doesn’t give me a right to make him worry needlessly.
“It’s nothing. Nothing at all,” I quickly assure him. “I just wasn’t expecting that we would be going over this today.”
A little fib considering I hadn’t expected it to come up at all, despite his reactions that I noted within my report, but I sell it like crazy because there’s no need for him to know just how shocked it made me. And how it stirred the lust within me so effortlessly. He absolutely doesn’t need to know that I’m experiencing creeper feelings while ogling his dick.
Instead, I tap at the page and give him a confident smile that I don’t feel. “We will be doing some more measurements and photographs, but this time we will be going over how Aquanas reproduce. It’s unfortunate that we don’t have a female in for comparative differences, but perhaps we will be lucky enough to wrangle a volunteer someday.”
I’m shocked when he shrugs as if it’s nothing. Here I’m about to have heart failure and he’s acting as if I just told him that his tuna sandwich comes with pickles.
“You would have to find another Gurekna Aquana,” he says, and I nearly drop my clipboard at just how in stride he is taking this examination.
“Wh... what?”
His lips tip provocatively. “There are several subgroupings of Aquana, as well as closely related species such as the tentacled Voridon. The Gurekna are known for our distinct tailfin and tail sails,” he says, gesturing to his fins and then back where the dorsal fin unfolds in resemblance to the dorsal of a sailfish. “As for my reproductive anatomy, I do believe most males of my species are similar. What would you like to see first?”
“Mating barbs,” I squeak, needing the reminder of just why it’s not a good idea to become entangled with the male.
“I wasn’t aware that humans knew of those,” he replies, curious but otherwise unruffled.
I blush a little, not wanting to reveal just how much I know and my sick desire to see it all in the flesh now that I’ve been given the all-clear for it.
“There’s a book on merfolk in the library that mentioned them. It sounds like a good place to start. I know from what this book says that they’re vital to your procreation, even if it doesn’t go into particular detail.”
Which really it doesn’t. Other than saying generally what they are used for, I realize that the author left it to the imagination of the reader. Whether that was because they expected their audience to assume the worst, and intentionally planned for that, I couldn’t say.
Ro nods as if my request is entirely sensible and lifts his arms. The fins there are currently flat, and I watch him extend them to their full length like he does when he’s swimming. Unlike the beautiful fan of his tailfin, this is a sharp cut webbing like that of his sail and the secondary dorsal fin that runs down the back of his tail. Each thin bone of the fin seems tipped with a spike. I watch as he turns his arm so that I’m looking at the inside of his arm. Gradually the texture seems to rise, and I gasp in surprise when I notice three small spines push up from beneath the skin about halfway down his forearm.
Though I’m startled a little with how it works, I’m actually glad that they look the way that they do. I’ve had nightmares about them. Long, sharp needles sinking in and impaling me, or hooks tearing at my flesh. These wouldn’t exactly be pleasant if used without any caution whatsoever, but they remind me of very small sea urchin spines and that sets me a little more at ease. The barbs are only roughly about an inch long, which definitely helps make them less scary. They would prick and scratch, but they otherwise appear safe. Which is a load off my mind—for other ladies who might be seduced by an Aquana’s charm, that is. Not me.
“Do you mind if I touch them?” I ask with a forced nonchalance as if part of me isn’t dying to explore them just a little.
He grows hesitant and looks down at them uncertainly. “Don’t press down on them,” he finally says with a yielding look on his face. “The venom would be painful out of the water.”
I blink at him with surprise and swallow as I make a quick note on my clipboard. “Right. Venom produced by mating barbs is painful out of the water.” I glance up at him curiously. “Would you say just painful, or is there a chance of it being fatal?”
His brows knit in a frown, and I’m a little alarmed with the fact that he doesn’t seem to know.
“I am not sure,” he admits as I reach forward and very carefully squeeze a barb between my finger and thumb, and gradually increase the pressure to see how hard, or flexible, they are. There is some give to it to keep the barb from snapping, but it otherwise feels like I would expect hard bone to feel like. Perhaps more like cartilage. “We do not mate above the water as it’s not considered to be safe.”
I nod in acknowledgment, glad that the recorder is catching what he says even as I wipe the drop of venom with a cotton swab and put it in a specimen vial for examination. That done, I jot down my observations and proceed to photograph the barbs.
“Aside from the barbs, is there any other feature of your anatomy which plays a part?” I ask distractedly.
Ro goes quiet, and I look up at him. His tail flicks lazily, the fins slightly less elegant than they appear doing the same gesture in water. His lips curl in a devious smile when he catches my eye, and then he looks pointedly down at his sheath, directing my full attention to the bulge at his pelvis.
“Oh... right. Aside from that,” I mumble, my face growing hot again.
He chuckles in response but shakes his head. “If we mate with another Aquana, our tails may entwine but it’s not necessary, and many are not comfortable with the sudden loss of movement. Other than our barbs, we are only joined by the sex. But as I understand that this is the way for humans as well, I’m sure that you understand that this is perfectly satisfactory copulation.”
My throat feels tight as I find myself likewise staring at the rounded bulge that rises up from his tail, forming a sort of genital pouch. I can feel his eyes on me—watching me—and I’m certain he’s still wearing that smoldering look on his face as he does so, as if tempting me to ask for more. A trace of heat licks through my belly, but I ignore it.
“I will need to record data on that as well,” I point out, trying to keep my voice brisk and unaffected, and failing miserably to my ears.
“Of course,” he rasps, and I watch in fascination as the bulge rounds out further until it appears to be straining the network of lines that forms a seam until it until flesh slowly splits and unfurls like a blooming flower reveal a dark pink from which his cock slides out.
And fuck, it’s glorious.
There is a shape to it not unlike marine mammals, designed for compatibility with an aquatic environment. It’s long, slick, and tapered, and while it seems to be growing thicker by the moment, it appears to have a thick natural lubrication. I regard it curiously and walk away for just a moment to grab a small beaker and fill it with some of the oceanwater. I carry this back to the examination table and, with a large dropper, allow the water to dribble in thick streams over his cock. The water flows over it without cutting through the lubrication and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise as I make a note of this as well.
The possibility of pleasurable, lubricated sex... check.
In fact, it could be very pleasurable. I consider what the thick lubrication might feel like as his cock shuttles in and out of my pussy and only just barely keep myself from panting in reaction.
“Are you required to touch this as well?” Ro purrs.
The sound shoots straight down through me, making me quiver with desire. I nod wordlessly. Of course I am. Even on the clipboard, there are questions about its size, shape, length, and texture.
I bite back a groan because it’s quite the big boy. Thick, long, and pink, it rises up from his groin with a flexible motion as it briefly lashes the air. And it’s girthy! While I doubt that I could close my hand around the thick shaft and base, even the tip of the tapered dick is, at the very least, the size of a couple of fingers wedged close together. About three inches from the tip, I see bands of tiny nub-like spines, each about six centimeters long. While the bands are no thicker than a couple of inches, they extend down most of the remaining length, only terminating close to the sheath.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I mumble, and he laughs, the husky sound making my desire curl deeper through me.
“I asked if you needed to touch this as well for your records.”
“Do you mind?” I ask as I stare at those bands and two large knot-like bumps that run down to the top of the flexible shaft.
“Not at all. Explore me,” he rasps.
I’m sure that I’m blushing as I curl my hand around his cock. Although I’m wearing a glove, I can feel the intense heat of him through it. His cock has a firmness to it but it’s flexible along the entire length allowing me to shift his sex in a fluid motion without any sign of discomfort from him. The tip curls as if seeking my hand, and I give a single stroke to explore the texture of spiny nubs and bumps. Ro makes a choking sound, and from the corner of my eye, I see that he’s holding firmly to the examination table, his muscles straining as I examine his length.
I peek down at my clipboard and bite back a moan. Describe the viscosity and color of semen. Of course they would want to know that. As if describing his cock in detail isn’t enough. Keeping one hand firmly wrapped around his length, I set the clipboard down and make several notes as to its appearance and snap a few photos while I continue to drag my hand up and down its length. The entire time Ro’s tail twitches and trembles against the table, sending his fins slapping against its sides. His eyes are blazing when I meet them again, and I suck in a nervous breath at the desire pooling within them.
“Just hold tight and this will be over soon,” I mumble, and I’m not entirely sure which of us I’m talking to as my other hand joins in and I begin to pump his cock.
His eyes widen before his head falls back and an inhuman moan rattles from deep within him. I keep stroking, however, even as his pelvis thrusts up into my hands and he snarls and hisses his pleasure between more of his lengthy groans pouring from him. His tail thrashes, the fins flicking and slapping against the table as he claws at it, ruining the padded surface. I’m quite sure my panties are also ruined, as soaked as they are, but I continue to tug his length, marveling at the texture of his highly flexible cock and thinking about how all of that would feel inside me.
The length twitches erratically before suddenly straining for the ceiling for a moment before lavender pearlescent semen sprays in thick streams, splattering over his belly and tail and my hands. I stare at it for a long moment and then take a shaky breath before stripping off a glove and grabbing the camera again. I give him an apologetic look.
“I’m afraid I’ll need to photograph this as well.”
He grins flirtatiously, surprising me and captivating me all at once. “Only if you print me copies.”
I nod mutely to his request and get to work—because what else am I going to do?