Chapter 3 #2
I pulled up his profile while I waited for a reply, and uh oh.
Hello, sir. There was only one image of him, and it wasn’t like the carefully selected photos I’d seen on other profiles.
He wasn’t smiling, and he certainly didn’t look nervous.
Actually. This picture made me a little nervous.
He was glaring, pointing at the camera like an angry politician scowling at the press after a scandal.
Only Earth’s politicians wished, okay? For one thing, he was cut.
For another, he was shirtless, wearing only loose black pants and no shoes.
He seemed to be on the deck of a very sleek boat, if the blue waves stretching into the distance were any clue to go on.
Bright sunlight (starlight? Oh, jeeze. I was going to call it sunlight, even if their star wasn’t the sun.) kissed his plummy purple skin and dark hair and illuminated a few tattoos that peeked over his shoulders and down one side, disappearing beneath his waistband.
And dear god, the bright light backlit the outline of his powerful thighs and calves through his pants, and something else that had to be a trick of shadow.
No way was his dick that big. I tried to zoom in, but I couldn’t.
I took a deep breath and dragged my eyes back up his body to his severe face instead.
Why did he choose this picture? He looked like he was about to murder someone.
And why was it so damned hot in my apartment?
Yiri Ahlon: Eissoi is where I live. The most beautiful coastal region in Bion 8KV. You’ll love it here.
Me: Hold on, Tiger. Take me to dinner first.
Yiri Ahlon: You’re calling me Tiger? I like what the translator is telling me about this beast. I am a Tiger.
Me: Ha ha. :) Here Tiger is a name we call kids who think they’re fierce.
Yiri Ahlon: You’re teasing me. Okay. But I am like a tiger. You’ll see.
Me: You seem confident. Are you sure this is your first time on BMM?
Yiri Ahlon: It’s my first time. I’m always confident.
Me: What makes you so sure I’m your future wife?
Yiri Ahlon: Your eyes.
Me: My eyes.
Not impressed. He was losing me.
Yiri Ahlon: Is it body art? You only have it in one image. The black points.
Was Amber Jade on BMM? She could make a killing here.
Me: It’s makeup. You’re not the first to notice.
Yiri Ahlon: I’m sure I’m not. I like it.
Me: I sent the other guy a tutorial on how to do it. You want it too?
Yiri Ahlon: No, thanks. I have enough body art already. I think mine is harder to take off than your makeup.
Me: Is body art like tattoos? I saw you have some in your picture.
Yiri Ahlon: Translation says tattoos are body art injected with metal tubes?
Me: Yep.
Yiri Ahlon: Body art here is applied with lasers.
Me: Does it hurt?
Yiri Ahlon: Yes.
Me: Not so different then. How much body art do you have?
Yiri Ahlon: Do you like body art? Tattoos?
Me: Mostly.
Yiri Ahlon: I can have it removed, but I currently have a lot.
Me: On your back? I can barely see it on your profile.
Yiri Ahlon: My back, my arms, chest, side, legs, hand.
Me: Oh, wow. A lot done since your photo then. Why not use something more recent?
Yiri Ahlon: There aren’t many images of me.
I chewed at the chapped skin on my lip as I stared at my phone. My gaze flicked to Mr. Darcy, who was giving me side eye.
“I know,” I said. “You’re right. It is late. And he’s not as fun as Qhev. I should let this go.”
Mr. Darcy rolled up on his hip, threw out a leg, and licked his belly.
“I’m not making bad life choices, you are,” I said. “That fur is going to come back up, you know.”
Me: Can I see your hand?
I’m a hand-slut, okay? And an arm-slut. And the image on his profile was a good shot of his hand, all thick, and veiny, and strong. And if it was all tatted up now, was I really going to let that get by me? I’d rather have a picture of this man’s hand than that alien dick pic.
Oh, sweet Jesus. Now I’m thinking about his hand around his dick. That happened way too fast. This guy was trouble.
My phone did the water drop sound, and I looked down to see a new message from Yiri.
Yiri Ahlon: [Recording Attached: Yiri Ahlon]
I opened the video, and the muscles in my abdomen clamped down hard.
Holy fucking hand porn. He focused in on his fist, balled tight at first, and then he spread his fingers in a wide flex.
A wide flex. The cords of sinew and muscle stretched under the skin, shifting under thick, blue-black characters that covered most of his hand and each of his fingers.
He rotated his spread hand slowly, showing all of the art.
A notification popped up, offering a translation, and I clicked it.
His fingers each had one word. Loyalty, honor, family, strength, and trust. The upper part of his hand read feared by many, conquered by none.
So, macho bullshit. But damn, it looked hot.
I watched the short video a few times before I responded.
Me: This is getting expensive. Maybe we should call it a night.
Yiri Ahlon: Is it night for you?
Me: Yes. What about you?
Yiri Ahlon: Evening. Night falls at third moon. It’s second moon now.
Me: You have three moons?
Yiri Ahlon: Venastea has five moons.
Me: We only have one measly moon.
Yiri Ahlon: Your moon is diseased?
Me: :) No. It’s an expression. It means small or not good. But I don’t mean that. I like our moon. It’s pretty. But like I said, maybe we should be done for the night.
Yiri Ahlon: You only got one look at my hand. Don’t you want to see what it can do?
This guy. He was not like most of the daernir males I’d been chatting with all night. And how did he seem to know where my mind had wandered when I watched him flex his hand?
Me: As tempting as that sounds, I’ve had a very long day.
Yiri Ahlon: I understand. I’ll tempt you tomorrow, then.
Me: You’re welcome to try.