Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Like a cat, Mekkra tries his best to hide his injuries.
I’d assumed the sleek medical pod would knit him back together in seconds, but apparently his advanced alien tech is just a glorified robotic surgeon.
No miracles. No instant regeneration. Just tender bruises and hastily stitched stab wounds that haven’t fully sealed.
Mekkra reaches across the table, barely suppressing a wince, and grabs a metal mug that smells like jet fuel and regret. He slumps in his chair as he takes a big swig.
“Thank you for joining me,” he says, tone carefully neutral. Detached.
He’s a terrible actor.
“You’re welcome,” I reply evenly, hovering at his side as I let the train of yet another sheer dress in my ridiculous wardrobe swish behind me. “And thank you for saving me.”
“You are my mate. It is my duty.” He waves it away with a grunt, leaning back like it costs him nothing.
Something in me bristles at that.
"Isn't there some big ceremony we've gotta do before you're allowed to call me that?"
He rolls his eyes but nods. "If you'd like to argue the specifics, yes."
I lean forward and take the mug straight from his hand before he can react. I hold his gaze while I take a long swallow. It burns all the way down—sharp, bitter, unapologetic.
His mouth actually drops open.
I guess Mekkra’s never partied with a good ole Florida girl before.
I set the empty mug down with a firm click.
“If this is going to work,” I say calmly, “step one is you dropping the macho warlord performance when you’re with me. Do you understand?”
“It is not a performance—”
I lift one finger, and he stops.
“You don’t get to hide behind duty.” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. “Don’t pretend you saved me because it was convenient or required. Your life was on the line because of it.”
His gaze falters. Shame flickers there.
“I had no other choice.”
“Yes. You did.” I step closer. “You could have let me die. You didn’t.”
The admission hangs between us.
I exhale slowly. “That makes me want to repay you. It does.” The words cost me, but I don’t look away. “But I can’t do that with obedience. And I won’t do it with lies.”
His hands flex at his sides, unsure whether to reach for me or armor himself again.
“You don’t get a grateful prize,” I tell him quietly. “If I stay—if I try—it’s because I choose to. Not because you claimed me.”
I step between his knees, forcing him to look up at me now.
“There are worse places I could have ended up. I did everything the Deenz asked of me for years, and all of that was through the lens that they’d off me if I didn’t listen. You already told me you won’t hurt me.”
He blinks once, twice, and I know there’s a question burning on his lips.
“But don’t mistake survival for surrender.” And this time, when I sit in his lap, it’s because I want to.
“What did the Deenz have you do?” he says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to know the answer.
“Are you sure you want to know? What if I tell you something that you don’t want to hear?” I mutter.
His hand snakes over the small of my belly, and the heat and softness of his furry fingers there feels good, but dangerous.
“I wouldn’t question the kills a warlord has made. I won’t question the things your captors made you do.” His breath is hot as it fans over the top of my head.
“And what if they had me do the same thing I did on Earth for money?” I lean forward and put my elbows on the table, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
“What if I’m so good at something that the whole point of it is to entice, for money?
What if I wasn't ashamed of it, but proud? Granted, I preferred being the one making bank back on Earth, but a spade’s a spade. ”
“I would say you were practical,” he whispers, letting his hand trace around my hip.
Don’t do it, Mae.
“Do you want me to show you?” I turn my head around and lick my lips.
“Only if you wish to. I vowed to never force you.” Mekkra’s eyes darken as he looks at me, like I’m some tasty fruit, ripe for the plucking.
Fuck it.
I rise on my tiptoes, bracing myself against the table and hovering my hips high for a moment before I rotate my ankles until my ass gets a good twerk going.
Mekkra sighs, and I feel the heat of his palm hovering over my butt. I freeze and drop my heels as I swivel to face him.
His hands are still in the air, keeping his word, waiting for permission.
I don’t give it.
I reach forward, grabbing his wrists, and place his hands on the arm of the chair.
“Stay,” I murmur.
I can tell he doesn’t like that as his jaw tightens, but he obeys.
If I were brave enough, I’d throw in a good boy, but I know I’m already pushing it as is.
I place one pointed toe on his thigh before letting it slip over the outside to his hip. One arm loops around his neck, and I pull my other leg up until I’m straddling him properly.
I roll my hips once, just slowly enough that it might even seem innocent. Almost. The fabric of my sheer dress drags against his leather pants, and his breath catches in a gulp.
“So you think I’m practical?” I say softly, letting my fingers trail up my sides and tracing a frame around my tits. “Back on Earth, men paid just to look at me. Paid to want, paid to imagine they had control.”
I whip my long blonde hair around my shoulder, the strands splashing against Mekkra’s cheek. I arch my back and pull his head down to my chest, as best I can with our size difference.
“I was very good at it.”
I move again, slower now. My hips glide up his torso deliberately before I lower myself down and rest my covered mound against his crotch.
His gaze burns into me, heavy but awed.
He still hasn’t dared to touch me.
“I need you to understand,” I continue, my voice barely a whisper, “when I dance now, it’s because I decide to. Not because I’m owned, not because I’m grateful.”
I let my hands touch his chest, shifting upwards to the thick and muscled column of his throat. My hand presses in, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft fur. I drag it up his chest and stop at the base of his neck.
“You saved my life, and that matters,” I admit.
I wind a circle with my hips, drawing a quickly swallowed growl from Mekkra.
“But this isn’t payment.” My mouth hovers near his collarbone, and I let my teeth graze lightly against the fur there. “This is a demonstration.”
I pull away from him slowly, meeting that possessive gaze.
“Are you willing to fight to win me? Because I don’t surrender. I choose.”
The words linger between us as I continue my lap dance. He’s holding himself rigidly, hands gripping the arms of the chair like he’s bracing for some terrible impact.
“You…are…enjoying…this,” he says through gritted teeth.
“What girl doesn’t enjoy being listened to?” I reply lightly.
But with that one shift of my hips, I’m taken off guard.
It’s not only his spine that’s grown rigid.
I pause. Sure, I knew it would be larger given his size, but something here feels different.
“Hold up.” My brows pull together as I look down at his crotch.
“What?” His ears twitch.
“That doesn’t feel standard issue, that feels like something new.”
“New to you.” A pleased rumble rolls through his chest.
“Don’t get too smug.” I suppress a curious little smile from spreading too far on my lips. I motion a hand toward this recent development. “May I?”
“Yes,” Mekkra says, almost a little too quickly.
I gently trace a finger around its outline. Something is definitely twisted, and the head feels blunt and strange.
“Should I be…concerned?” I look back up to him.
“You are safe with me.” His expression quickly shifts to one of my serious protector.
“That’s sweet—but not what I meant.”
He studies me for a second, as if to double-check that I’m not mocking him, but actually asking out of curiosity.
“If we’re going to eventually…go there…” I pause, not really sure how to word this. “I want to understand what you’re working with.”
His hand twitches.
“I can show you, if that’s what you wish?” he asks, sounding hopeful.
“Sure do." I giddily swing my legs before hopping down, ready for the show.
He almost looks disappointed at the loss of contact, but I can see a spark of something else too.
He stands and offers me his hand. I accept it and let him lead me to the far side of the room, nearest to the trellised climbing vines and dripping red flowers. He gently pushes me by the shoulders until my back hits a steel panel.
“From the design of your cunt, I don’t think our species are all that different. The Deenz assured me we would be biologically compatible.”
“My cunt, huh?” I say, wanting to bite my finger with some weird nervous excitement that suddenly washes over me.
His eyes narrow, but mostly he ignores my reaction to the word.
“I’m going to remove my trousers.” He unbuttons the auto fastener and slides his legs out of the worn and patched leathers.
His cock springs free and he plants his hands on his hips. I cover my mouth to stop the gasp from escaping.
“You are very different from a human,” I mumble.
If you squint and lose much of the detail, you might convince yourself that his massive member was close in design to a human’s. But I’m not squinting.
He’s so fucking hard, and his cock is fucking thick. The corded muscles under his veined shaft twist until they reach his fat head.
Wait…heads!
Each rope of muscle ends at a small tip, five to be exact, each dripping with precum—my dance having done its work.
The heads rest tightly against each other, reminding me of a closed rose bud.
“There’s a lot going on there,” I breathe. Mekkra looks like he’s ready to put his pants back on as his ears tuck against his head almost bashfully, before I quickly add. “Show me how it works.”
A slow, heated grin spreads across his face. He puts his hand out in front of my mouth.
“Spit.”
And I do.
His dry hand presses against the wall next to my head, and he leans in while the other hand descends to the monster between his legs.
I watch in awe as he spreads my saliva over his heads and down his shaft. Each of his tips throb and leak as he moves his hand back up.
“I like to work my cock from the tip down to its base until I’m hard.”
“Check,” I joke, knowing that he’s not getting more rigid than he is now.
“Then, I circle my fingers around my heads, pulsing there, letting my mind wander to things I want.”
“And what do you want?” I ask as he works his cock.
“A mate, a mate whose cunt will milk my cock for all it’s worth,” he says as if it were so simple.
He bites his lip as he stares into my soul, and I look back down…almost uncomfortable with his intensity.
That’s when I see it change. The heads slick with their own juices, growing even more swollen. As they fill with blood, they separate.
“When I come inside my mate—” He gasps for a breath. “I will swell and lock inside of her cunt so that my seed stays in her womb.”
It looks just like a flower blooming, and I find my hand making its way to his hip.
At my touch, he bursts and shoots hot ropes of cum in a spiral, coating my dress, the floor, and his belly all at the same time.
“Oh,” I whisper, as his warm seed drips from the fabric of my skirt.
He licks his lips, takes his hand from the wall, and tilts my chin up between his forefinger and thumb.
“And we stay together until my cock loses its determination—does that frighten you?”
I don’t answer right away but try to picture his organ inside me.
Could I handle the thick, swelling bulb—would it feel like bliss, torture, or something else entirely?
There’s so much I should be scared of, but his dick isn’t striking fear in my heart, only curiosity about the sensation of being so filled with him.
“No, it doesn’t scare me.”
He grins—and I freeze, because oh. Oh. That’s new.
His lips pull back over those sharp teeth jutting from his bottom lip, and I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. It’s… unsettling. In a weirdly hot, probably dangerous way.
But then, he reaches behind his back.
Winces.
And snaps something off.
I stare.
I stare harder.
“Did you just—”
He turns back like nothing happened, holding out a long, wicked-looking spine. Freshly removed. From his body. Like that’s a normal thing he does.
“Mae, does this please you?”
“What the fuck, man?” I blurt, gawking at the… the detached appendage he’s casually offering me like it’s a bouquet.
He frowns, genuinely confused, eyes flicking from me to the spine, then back to me like I’m the weird one here.
“It is customary that I craft a ring for you, from my spines,” he explains, completely serious. “It is part of—”
I scrub a hand down my face. “The mating ceremony. Yeah. No, I got that part. Just—” I gesture wildly at the spine before adding quickly, “It’s… lovely.” I force a taut smile.
He brightens. Actually brightens.
“If you wish for another, simply let me know.” He starts to turn, already reaching back—
“NOPE.” I throw both hands up. “Nope, we’re good. One is—fantastic. Incredible. You have amazing taste. Please stop harvesting yourself.”
He pauses, then nods, satisfied. Like this was a totally normal, successful romantic gesture.
Then he just… tucks the spine under his arm and heads off down the corridor. I take a moment to compose myself and head back to my own room.
A weird, out-of-place laugh bubbles up in my throat, almost like a nervous reaction.
It's become increasingly clear that I know nothing about alien dicks or mating customs.