Page 19 of Mated on Live

That thought, finally, managed to calm his cock. It softened and he finished rinsing off in the cleansing mist as he considered the implications of having an interspecies mate.

Mating outside of one’s species was very rare, but not unheard of. He wouldn’t be the only allowee male to need to remove his ovules. And if the choice was keeping something that only served to enhance his pleasure, not even something that was solely responsible for it, or hurting his female with his sting, then it was hardly a choice.

But it was still one that weighed on him as he dressed for third meal.

He would need to bring it up to her in their talk. His female had a strange occupation, but she was wise in matters of emotions and relationships. Laying out their expectations and boundaries at the beginning was only good sense.

After dressing, he returned to the main room and fetched his mate. She had changed since he left her too. This time, instead of the pretty, white dress, she was wearing a pair of cute, sparkly shorts that cupped her ass like a prize and an oversized shirt that revealed one shoulder. She had also pulled her hair back into a messy tail. Thick, fuzzy socks adorned her tiny little feet and her makeup had been washed away, revealing her true, natural coloration.

Just like that, his cock was awake again, his ovules writhing in his pants, reaching for her.

“Ready for third meal?” He asked pleasantly, ignoring their desperation.

“So ready,” she confirmed, stepping out of the room. “What are we eating?”

“Fish stew. My mother’s recipe.”

“Yummy,” she beamed. “Lead the way.”

The shoulder slipped further down her arm, teasing him with the soft skin of her breast. It wasn’t nearly as low cut as her dress had been, but the brief glimpse of her skin made him ache.

He ignored that too, leading her down the hall. They weren’t wide enough to walk abreast, but that was a good thing. Without her directly in his sight, he could get himself under control.

The galley on his ship wasn’t very big. He had sacrificed a big eating area for a bigger recreation area – a choice he didn’t regret. Especially now when it meant that he was forced to be closer to his female as he synthesized two bowls of steaming stew for them.

“It’s not fresh,” he said, setting them down at the small table. She had already climbed onto a chair, crossing her legs on it as she beamed at the offering. “But my synthesizer is top of the line, so it tastes nearly identical.”

“I won’t be able to tell the difference,” she promised, looking over the alien food with an eager smile. “It smells amazing.”

He sat across from her, picking up his utensil. She watched him with a curious expression.

“What?” He asked, pausing.

“That’s the, er, spoon?”

He looked at it, and then, back to her. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, grabbing her own. She didn’t seem to know how to hold it. “Not wrong. Just, I’m used to spoons with handles. This is more like a seashell situation.”

“Probably because my people used to eat with seashells,” he grinned. “Modern spoons kept the design. Here. Hold it like this.”

He set his spoon down and reached across the table to adjust her grip. Her little fingers, so soft and warm, moved easily under his as he adjusted her grip. She gave him a grateful smile and watched as he scooped up some stew and brought it to his mouth before mimicking him. Her eyes went wide, and she laughed as she chewed.

“It’s so spicy!” She declared, her face already reddening. “Wow. Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Spicy?” Serval cocked his head curiously. “What do you mean?”

“You know… spicy. It’s like… hot.”

“Too hot?” He looked at the steam coming off her bowl. “Do you need it cooled down?”

“Huh? No, not that kind of hot. Picante. Not caliente.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

She gave him a funny look. “Can you not… Does your mouth not burn?”

“It’s not that hot,” he said, concerned now.

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