Kol

 

“My penis?”

He looked down. Everything was as it should be. He was hard, yes, but his mate had been touching him. Perhaps she did not wish to see the evidence of his arousal.

“You didn’t have one before!”

“I assure you, I have always had my cock.” His people did not keep their cocks constantly exposed like Terrans. He had been able to resist her firm and business-like touch as she washed his back. Then she caressed his tail and lathered the length of it. His slit opened unconsciously for his protruding cock, excited at his mate’s touch. He, perhaps, should have explained this part of his anatomy.

“It has spikes! Why does it have spikes!” Penny backed away from him.

He looked down again. He knew that Mahdfel were compatible with Terrans for breeding. There would not have been the treaty without compatibility. He had even taken it upon himself to do research on Terran mating and watched their informative breeding videos. The general motions and methods seemed similar. He never considered that their physiology was dissimilar. “Is it so different from a human cock?”

“Yes! We don’t have spikes on our dicks.”

“Spine. They are spines.” Short keratin spines formed under the head of his cock and at the base.

She ran a hand through her wet hair. The curls that fascinated him before were now in tight formation.

“They are flexible,” he said. “It will not hurt.”

“But why?”

“Evolution.” He took a step toward her.

“Oh, no. You keep that monster away from me.” She backed up, tripped on the mattress and fell on her ass with a squeak.

He crouched down next to her. He had worried that his size might intimidate her. He knew that Mahdfel males were often larger than Terran males, but there was nothing to suggest that a Terran female could not receive him. His concerns about breeding had only been vague at the start of this mission. He knew he might find a mate on Earth, or he might not. Now that he had found his mate, his Penny, he very much wanted her to not be afraid of him. Of all of him.

Her eyes were fixed on his cock. He grew harder under her gaze.

“It’s staring at me,” she said.

“I will show you my cock,” he said, taking it in hand, “so you will not be afraid.”

“I can see it just fine, you don’t need to touch yourself— And he’s touching himself.” She rolled her eyes. He couldn’t help his smile. His mate was not frightened if she was sarcastic, which was her favored means of communication. “Don’t look like you’re having so much fun. This is gross,” she said.

Kol forced his expression to something suitably grim. “This is my glans,” he said, indicating the head of his cock. “The short spines on the underside are called glans saab.” His index finger brushed the short spines. A pleasurable shudder ran down his body at his own touch.

Penny’s dark eyes were fixed on his motions. “But why? Why did that evolve?”

“Rolusdreus females only ovulate when they climax,” he said. The translation cube made his words sound clinical despite the heat in his voice. “The spines help with stimulation. Would you like to touch?”

Her fingers twitched. “I shouldn’t. It’s wrong.”

“Nothing pleasurable between mates can be wrong.” And there would be nothing wrong in her touching him.

Penny lifted her gaze from his cock and found his eyes. “Because I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“No,” he said, “you are a human woman and my female. You are exactly how you are.” And she was perfection to him, made for him.

She licked her lips, her pink tongue swiping over the crushed berries color of her lips. “If I touch it—you— don’t try anything. I don’t want to have sex.”

“As you say.”

She didn’t make him swear to it. She  knew him well enough to take him at his word. Pride swelled in his chest.

She scooted forward. He settled back on his heels, spreading his knees. His cock jutted proudly forward.

Her first touch was light, barely a caress down his length, like a breeze skimming over his heated flesh. Her fingers brushed the tip of his cock, spreading the bead of his pre-cum. She circled the head, finger tracing a loop. On the second pass, she skimmed the ridge and brushed his short spines. He groaned and her eyes went wide, but she did not flinch. His mate was daring in that manner. His obvious pleasure emboldened her.

She wrapped her hand around his length, fingers not meeting, and worked her hand up and down. Her touch was rapture and having sworn to do nothing was torture. Her thumb brushed his longer spines at the base of his cock, just as sensitive as the short ones.

“My saab maxu,” he breathed.

“Does it hurt?”

“Does it look it hurts?”

“You’re growling and your teeth are clenched, so it’s a little hard to judge.”

“I am focusing on my control. I swore to not try anything.”

Her lips twitched in a half smile at him repeating her words back to her. Parroting, she called it. He couldn’t help himself, his tail swished happily.

“They’re not sharp like your barb,” she said.

“Of course not.” His barb had the edge of a razor.

She reached for his tail. “What does this do, then?”

“You must not—” He flicked it away quickly to avoid her grasp but it smacked against palm of her other hand.

The barb pricked her hand.