Chapter 5
FIVE
MEI
Bulwark's swallowing was annoying me.
He never made that noise when he lurked against the wall.
We had been working on the prototype for two weeks now, and having him next to me, supporting my ideas with knowledge I could practically apply immediately, was far better than having him lurk in the corner of the room and not saying anything when I built a weapon that would fry me alive when I used it.
I appreciated that he came after me and stopped me from hurting myself.
Still, now that I had him next to me, helping me with his knowledge, his physical form close enough to make the small hairs on my arm react when his fingers brushed mine, I was annoyed he hadn't stepped in sooner.
Except, now that I thought about it, he had stepped in sooner.
When I had told everyone I was building cooking equipment, he had told me it would produce too much heat.
I shouldn't be annoyed with him, but everything about him was irritating me now.
I constantly had this tight, needy itch deep inside me, and it was pissing me off.
The way he smelled, mint and sweet pea flowers, the way my cunt clenched when he got too close and I bumped into him, the way his ears moved when I made a loud noise or spoke too softly, and worst of all, the way he swallowed.
I'd begun testing it to be certain, at first because that irritation in me made me want to do things to punish him, to irritate him back… but after a few test runs I was sure of the cause now.
He made that noise whenever I did anything that could even remotely be considered provocative.
I had started doing more and more things of that nature.
When I leaned over at the perfect moment, stepping back so my ass bumped right up into him, that would trigger it.
When I leaned over him to reach for something, pressing my chest against his arm, that also did it.
But there were other instances: when I became excited after learning how to use the machine that was able to make detailed circuitry woven into fabric and did a little dance of joy, or when I realized that the oxygen production in the suits was built out of biological tissue that provided almost infinite breathable air, as long as it wasn't damaged.
It was just so damn cool I did a little victory dance of joy, and then he looked at me, and he swallowed, a thick sound that made me wonder what was going on with his salivary glands.
He was similar-looking to the guy Andrea was hooking up with, and I had overheard her bragging about how he liked to lick her all over. She said he was claiming her by coating her in saliva that hardened into a flexible material.
It was a weird thought.
It also raised some hygiene questions about where that saliva hardened. The woman had a problem with giving out too much information on her intimate relationship, but at the same time, I was grateful for it.
The fact was that even though he had a reaction to my small, seductive tests, he hadn't done or said anything that anyone could consider inappropriate.
He wasn't grabbing me or telling me he wanted to go muff diving or any of the other things I had been imagining he could do in those moments where I lay in bed and thought about what we could do.
It had been a long time since I got laid, and it was no secret that the guys the other women had hooked up with had been phenomenal in bed.
From what I heard, they were fully present in the moment, dedicating themselves to the experience and the interaction with their partners, rather than just satiating their own needs.
I hadn't declared my work sessions with Bulwark off-limits for no reason. I could see how some of the other women looked at him, and occasionally someone wandered in to see how we were doing, then spent a little too much time lingering near him. Wren had stuck her head in a few times, but she was a quiet type, and when I didn’t acknowledge her, she just left.
What I did notice was that Bulwark never made the swallowing sound at any of them.
The other aliens who had shacked up with women had shown absolutely no interest in straying, at least that was what Saoirse had said, though I didn't stick around in that conversation to learn how she had come to that conclusion.
I didn't care so much about that, except for the fact that it meant that if Bulwark decided to hook up with someone else, that would be it for the potential of him and me.
But that was the crux of my irritation with him.
I was attracted to him, to his body, to his knowledge, to his patient way of working me, to the way he smiled when I was trying to figure out a new feature, to the way he took a deep inhale when I invaded his space, and the way that his hands flexed like he wanted to touch me but was holding himself back.
I was attracted to his patience and his quiet.
But he was an alien, and even if he was mentally freed from control, he still came from the race of oppressors that had planned to carve me up for parts. His history didn't define him, but it sure made a strange backdrop for a romance.
It was a messed up situation.
But at the same time, I had caught a sight of Andrea being railed in the kitchen one morning, something that Noelle was still angry about even though Andrea had cleaned every inch of the space to Noelle's requirements as an apology.
The sight of it made me even more irritated with Bulwark.
Andrea's alien had her hair fisted in his hand, and he was taking her in the kind of way I always wanted to be taken, but never knew how to ask for it, because asking to be treated like that was dangerous with human men.
I'd never found a guy I felt safe enough with to tell him I wanted to be absolutely dominated, because that one word wasn't enough.
I wanted to be cherished, my every need fulfilled, my pleasure ecstatic, but at the same time I didn't want to have to perform for a man who would get disappointed if his touches didn't elicit the reaction he thought they should.
I wanted a guy to take what he needed, but I wanted what he needed to be me having a really good time.
Telling someone I was dating that I needed him to worship me and enjoy doing it and be over-the-top aggressive about giving me exactly what I needed, and that was what I meant by domination, was hard to communicate, especially with men who would shut down at the slightest hint of criticism.
I bent over, put my hands on my knees, and stared through a small window in the machine that was currently sewing biologically reactive strands into the suit's fabric so it could display readings taken from my body.
I arched my lower back, jutting the round curve of my ass up, and then shifted slightly, putting a little wiggle in it that I hoped came across as absent-minded.
Or not.
At this point I wanted him to know I was doing this to tease him.
Bulwark made that swallowing sound again, along with a small groan that he tried to cover up with a cough.
He was never going to make a move, was he?
Even so, if he did, would I respect a guy who made a move in an environment like this?
What if he wasn't actually interested in me at all?
My desires were so contradictory and convoluted; it was like I was trying to build a weapon without understanding the technology's flaws.
I'd never found what I wanted because I'd never really tried to say it out loud.
I just tried to find it without ever telling my partner what I needed, or asking what they needed.
I needed to change what I was doing if I was going to change the result.
I stood up and turned around, facing him squarely.
Time to go all in.
"We need to clear the air," I said.
He looked up at the space around us.
"The limited access I have to the ship's system includes environmental readings for the guest spaces," he said. "The air in here is listed as optimal. Is there something your human senses have identified that the sensors cannot?"
"No, not the actual air," I said, amused and infuriated all at the same time, the tension in my body demanding a release.
Worst-case scenario, if this conversation didn't go the way I hoped, I was going to build a vibrator, because this was a problem that could be solved with the right tool.
Actually,, I'd build one anyway, since not everyone wanted to jump on alien d just to get their needs met.
"It is a saying that there is something that needs to be said that both people are thinking about.
I've been thinking the sound you keep making is because you are attracted to me, and it's been a distracting thought. Am I correct in that assumption?"
"Yes," he said, his tone startled even as he answered my question directly and without hesitation.
I put my hands on my hips and waited.
There was no way I was going to put my uncomfortable thoughts out there and be rewarded with only a single-word answer.
I lifted an eyebrow and gave him a firm look to make sure he understood I expected elaboration. I didn't have to wait long for the reward for my social bravery.
"I am experiencing a biological response indicating my physical and psychological desire to mate with you when I pay attention to your body or when you express joyful exuberance at the acquisition of new knowledge," he said.
"I wasn't sure what I was experiencing at first, so I queried my brother with the closest origin species, and I am producing a specific type of saliva, a fluid that is specific for mating, not digestion. "
"Explain further," I said, feeling my heart racing in my chest. My voice cracked a little as I continued. "What exactly do you want to do with this… mating fluid?"
"What do I want to do?" he asked, his eyes widening as if the thought had never occurred to him.
"Want is such an ineffective word that I didn't include it in my self-examination.
It lacks specificity or intention toward action, but that word has helped me make sense of things.
Wanting without doing is what is causing my discomfort. "
His hands reached out toward me, and I sucked in a sharp breath of anticipation, the excitement of his words leading to sudden movement, but then he stopped halfway in the air as confusion crossed his face.
"I have observed that there are profound differences in how each of you humans interact and react, and I cannot make assumptions based on what I know of my brother's mating practices," he said.
"If I mate with you now, is such assertive aggression something that you would desire, or do you wish for me to perform an extended courtship?
If you wish for an extended courtship, what are the human-specific steps in such a thing? "
I let out a laugh, both uncomfortable and aroused, the idea of him just grabbing me and having his way with me exciting, but at the same time, the audacity of this man!
"You seem really confident that I want to mate with you at all!
" I said, crossing my arms as my irritation grew.
I knew it was an antagonistic thing to say, yet it came out like a habit I didn't know how to break.
It was defensive, built off the backs of men who didn't respect me simply because of my gender.
"You show signs of arousal and interest in my presence," he said, tilting his head to the side as he regarded me.
"My body reacting to you doesn't mean that I want to mate with you," I said. "Arousal and flirtation aren't the same thing as consent."
"Yes, I know that," he agreed. "But you initiated this topic of conversation, which I've taken as an opportunity to seek verbal understanding.
Is the issue a lack of information? I have been practicing my creative skills by planning how our mating would go.
Let me describe what I intend to do if you permit me. "
Before I could agree or deny, he launched into a detailed description of exactly what he wanted to do to me. I listened in rapt silence. He was extremely detailed, and by the time he finished, my entire body was buzzing with the intense awareness of him.
"What adjustments should I make to that plan?" he asked. "Or if I have misunderstood the intent in you initiating this conversation, let me know, and I will not bring it up again, and I will cease my planning."
This time, I swallowed.
I cleared my throat, my mind twisting in and about on itself as my previous protests fell away in the light of exactly how much thought he had put into what he wanted to do with me without giving me any sign until I began to tease them out of him.
All this time he had been working with me, keeping his true feelings hidden behind the bulwark of his mind until I demanded they come out and face me.
I wanted him; I wanted what he described.
With a few changes.
"First adjustment," I said, holding up one finger. "I'm not an exhibitionist, so this workshop is not a private enough setting."
"I can lock the door," he said, and a soft clunking sound came from the door in question. "Now it is private."
Sweet stars in space, that sent my heart racing.
"Second," I said, holding up another finger next to the first. "We have to be done by the time this machine is done, and we're ready to move on to the next step. I don't want this interfering with our work."
"I can make that adjustment," he said. "Any other changes?"
"Just one," I said. "The terminology you proposed… that won't work for me."
"What will work for you?" he asked.
I cleared my throat, not knowing how to say it. It was embarrassing to say it.
"I don't know," I said instead.
"The terminology I initially proposed focused on the truth, how I admired you, detailing how attractive you are to me, and how I intend our mating to result in a long-term bond," he said.
"The opposite extreme of that would be for me to lie and say that I intend to use you for my pleasure and then mate with another woman; is that the adjustment you desire? "
"No!" I said. "I want both. Not the other woman stuff, but the using me and putting me down and the affection. I want you to alternate."
That sounded so strange when I said it out loud and didn't feel like it encompassed the full scope of what I wanted. Would he even understand?
"I will make that adjustment," he said. "Are there any other changes?"
Oh fuckity fucksticks was I really going to just do this?
"No," I said. "You may proceed with your plan."