Chapter 6
6
“ T hese, uh, these are a little too tight. Is there anything else I could try?”
Paul’s head peeks out into the hallway from the crew facilities, his face still flushed a bright red. I’ve used my implant to check his vitals multiple times, and other than an increased heart rate, he doesn’t seem unwell. Turning red must be a quirk of human physiology.
“Unfortunately, no. Yaz is the only one on the ship close to your size. The rest of our clothing would be far too long or wide for you, unless you want to risk tripping.”
Paul lets out a heavy, resigned sigh, then emerges out into the corridor wearing the new pants.
I barely suppress my reaction when I see him, because, esh’et , those pants on him are almost obscene. The very stretchy fabric that Yaz needs so his clothes don’t snag and tear on his carapace is pulled taught across Paul’s thick, muscular thighs, and wrapped around his groin in a way that reveals the outline of a flaccid cock.
Interesting. I knew he had some kind of cock when I felt it pressed against my thigh as I drifted off to sleep last night cycle, but some species keep their phalluses retracted inside their body when they’re not aroused.
I pull my eyes away from Paul’s cock, attempting to hide how my eyes flare with interest. I shouldn’t be staring at my unwilling guest’s penis. He’s already very uncomfortable and the last thing he needs is me looking at him lasciviously.
“They’re fine,” I say evenly, though there’s a dull throb between my thighs as he turns and I catch sight of his impossibly rounded, firm buttocks straining against the fabric. “The fabric is much sturdier than your previous pants, so there shouldn’t be any further risk of accidental tearing or exposure.”
Not that I would mind getting another peek at his ass. It’s so pert, but jiggly. Looking at it, I have the ridiculous urge to bite it.
“Well, I suppose that’s good,” Paul says, clasping his hands in front of his groin.
Despite how appealing the new view is, I hate that he’s even more uncomfortable now. When we stop at the nearest station to get supplies, I’ll look for a tailor to repair his pants and alter some of mine to fit him.
For a moment, I consider reaching out to take his hand again now that he’s ready to go meet the crew, but I doubt he’ll be receptive to that. Something rooted deep inside me keeps telling me I need to soothe this poor human, and touch is the best way I know how to do that. It’s what I did last night when he cried about his loneliness. And stars, the way he felt pressed close …
Ugh, that’s irrelevant now. I can’t offer to cuddle away his fears now that Paul knows I’m dangerous. Vash-ka , I can’t believe I joked about using Kha-shar. The way his light brown skin paled when I mentioned my favorite blaster was a sobering reminder of who Paul is.
The human clearly hasn’t spent a cycle of his life outside the smothering protection the Coalition and Consortium provide. He doesn’t understand that having a blaster and being willing to kill to survive is a reality for all of us who can’t rely on the Consortium to meet our needs. Sure, my line of work makes the odds of needing to use a weapon higher than a colonist on a remote planet, but the matter remains the same.
Paul is soft.
Coddled, even.
I should’ve realized that when he was moping at the bar at one of the fanciest bonding parties I’ve ever attended. His biggest worries are feeling left behind by his friends and lonely in his fancy Spire apartment and his cushy embassy gig.
I’ll have to keep him confined to the recreational areas of the ship the entire time he’s here. He’s not going to like it, but he can’t be allowed to wander around and get hurt. And he certainly can’t be allowed off the ship, judging by his erratic actions thus far.
I sigh and head down the corridor to the lift. Paul follows, which I’m grateful for, because I really don’t want to spend every moment he’s here coercing him to cooperate.
His wide eyes watch me as we ride the lift to the mid-level, and I pull up my comm to avoid his stare, shooting a quick message to Rema to confirm that everyone is in the mess and ready to be on their best behavior .
She lets me know that Yaz already went to his quarters to start his regeneration cycle, so he won’t be able to join us. Which is a pity, since out of all my crew, the friendly aespian is the least intimidating to a casual observer. Never mind that he’s by far the most deadly person on the ship.
Paul is shaking slightly by the time we reach the door to the mess, and against my better judgment, I turn and rest my hands on his shoulders. “Is this okay?” I ask, ready to remove them the second he shows discomfort.
He blinks up at me, the black of his pupils almost entirely blotting out his deep brown irises. “Uh, sure. It’s fine.”
I squeeze his shoulders and smile down at him as non-threateningly as possible, sending soothing energy into my palms. “My crew is the best in the galaxy. I trust each one of them with my life, and because they know you’re my guest, they’ll keep you safe, too.”
Paul’s posture relaxes a bit at my touch, and a hint of a smile curves his plush lips. “Even the one I attacked?”
I smile back. “Oh, don’t worry about Bret’u. Ze knows you were scared and won’t hold the…attack against you. The only thing ze might do is ask some questions about human physiology. Questions you’re under no obligation to answer, but if you do, you’ll become fast friends with zir.”
“Oh. Alright. Good to know. Any other advice for making your crew not hate me?” Paul’s voice isn’t wavering as much now.
I give him an assessing look. “Why? Hoping for someone to charm into helping you escape my terrible clutches? Because I’ll warn you, it’ll take a lot to get any of them to turn against me. No matter how good your pathetic human act is.”
“It’s not an act!” Paul protests, then realizes what he’s said, a wash of red peeking out from under his thick brown beard.
Ah, so the red means he’s embarrassed.
“Not that I’m pathetic!” he continues. “It’s perfectly reasonable for me to be scared in this situation. And I’m only asking about your crew so I don’t immediately get on one of their bad sides by saying something inappropriate.”
“Relax, Ambassador .” I wink at the human. “You’re not on a diplomatic mission. You don’t need to stand on formality or professionalism. Just be yourself.”
“I…” Paul’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he continues. “That’s easier said than done.” There’s a surprising amount of vulnerability in his voice.
He looks so worried that I decide to change course. “Alright then, I’ll give you a quick briefing.”
Paul blinks at me in surprise. “You will?”
“Yeah. I may be a scoundrel, but I’m not a complete asshole. If it’s something that will help you be more comfortable with this situation, I’m happy to oblige.”
“Oh.” Oddly enough, the pink on his cheeks doesn’t go away, though he doesn’t look as embarrassed now. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Okay, so you’ve met Bret’u. Ze/zir pronouns. Will probably ask you for a sample of your blood for testing and if you give it to zir, you’re set as long as you don’t fuck in the med bay.”
Paul splutters. “I wouldn’t—I won’t!”
“Well, then there are no worries there,” I reply, amused that sex is what his brain caught on, and not the part about giving the shikzeth his blood.
“Rema is the seladin you saw briefly. She/her. She’s very hard to rile up or offend. Loves trashy gossip zines, if you know anything about those.”
Paul nods. “I don’t, but I can look into them.”
“Tari is our mechanic. She/her. A nexxit and currently the number one pain in my backside. She’s the reason we had to jump out to the ass end of the galaxy so the ship wouldn’t blow up.”
Paul’s thick brows raise. “The ship was at risk of blowing up?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that. “We’re fine. No chance of blowing up now that the energy core is properly shielded.”
Paul’s eyes grow comically wide. “The energy core wasn’t shielded?!”
“Anyway…” I clear my throat. “Tari will probably be too busy working on repairs to have time to chat. But I guess if you want her to like you, she’s a fan of alien smut. So if you know where to get any good human erotica, send it her way.” A grin twists my lips as Paul’s mouth falls open. “I wouldn’t mind getting that info either,” I add with a nonchalant shrug.
“I don’t—that’s—you’re messing with me,” he huffs, crossing his bulky arms across his chest.
“Maybe a little. Wanted to see if I could get that furrow between your brows to go away for a second. But it’s true that Tari loves unusual erotica.”
Paul glares at me, the crease deepening. “Well, even if I had any to give, I wouldn’t be able to share it with you or your mechanic, seeing as my comm is missing.” He holds up his bare wrist with an accusatory flourish.
I wrap my fingers around it, pretending like this is news to me, when in reality I deactivated his comm and tossed it in a shielded locker right after I swiped it off of him. “Huh. So it is.”
The human shivers slightly as I trace a claw across the delicate crease where his wrist meets his hand, then tugs it away. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t take it from me! I’m naive, but I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were stupid, Paul. Which is why you’ll understand the need for me to take your comm for the time being.” I level him with my gaze, letting my smile fall so he understands the gravity of what I’m about to say. “It’s clear you were trying to get off the ship. Probably looking for an escape pod to use. Your current cooperation may be an act, so I must warn you that running away from me is infinitely more dangerous than staying put and waiting things out until I can send you back home. Attempting to contact the Consortium on your own without the proper knowledge of their protocols is more likely to get you snatched up by much more nefarious people than myself. People who will see a lone human who claims to be connected to the Consortium and think they can use you as a source of information to find out its secrets or blackmail the Coalition into bartering for your return. And I’m sure you know that neither organization negotiates with terrorists.”
“I…” Paul swallows back whatever argument he was about to make and stares at me, clearly shaken.
I was right about him still thinking about running away. I feel like an asshole for presenting his current situation to him so bluntly, but fear that’s the only way he’ll listen. And unlike the unscrupulous groups I threatened him with, I have some morals. The work I do isn’t motivated by greed or malice, it’s for the good of my people. Letting any harm befall this human while he is in my care would be a diplomatic nightmare for seladin across the galaxy, simply because they share my Y’thir designation.
“Back to the crew. Val—she/her—is our pilot, and a classically trained vuloi dancer who loves?—”
“Let’s just get this over with,” Paul interrupts, his fists clenching at his sides like he’s resisting the urge to hit something. If I didn’t think he’d hurt himself again, I’d offer to let him hit me. Then maybe we could move forward with our temporary cohabitation more amicably.