Page 47 of I Married Amreth

“And you certainly are proving to be an important part, in more ways than one,” she said with a smile.

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and caressed its back with my thumb before releasing her.

“Well, I sweated all day. I should go shower,” I said, rising to my feet and picking up the empty dishes on the table.

Ciara grabbed the other ones and followed me to the sink so that we could wash them. There was something oddly intimate to us performing such a menial task together.

“Do you want me to wash your wings?” my mate offered, as I finished drying the last plate.

My stomach did a backflip, and I hid how strongly her words affected me by plastering a taunting expression on my face.

“I would need to be naked while you do that.”

She shrugged, raised an eyebrow, and held my gaze unwaveringly. “Yes, and? I’m a medical doctor. There isn’t much I haven’t already seen. So unless it makes you uncomfortable, or if Obosian nudity is somehow lethal for humans, then I have no problem with it,” she deadpanned.

“Lethal nudity? That’s a first. But no, seeing me undressed will not cause you any harm.”

“Then, it is settled, big boy. To the shower we go!”

“Big boy?!” I exclaimed with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“I said what I said,” she replied in a singsong voice while strutting her way ahead towards the door to the back.

Following in her wake, I removed my breastplate and put it down on the counter before exiting the house. She kicked off her shoes and turned on the water. To my shock, Ciara stripped out of her own clothes, placing them neatly in a pile next to the recessed shelves that contained the clean towels. When sheturned around to face me in her glorious nudity, she found me staring at her, mouth agape, and my hands frozen on the waist of my pants with the magnetic clasps half opened.

“What are you doing? Take it off!” she said, gesturing with her right hand in a way that meant for me to get a move on. “And don’t gape at me like that. I’m not getting my clothes drenched while washing your wings, and I need to shower, too.”

That snapped me out of my daze, and I promptly complied. Despite her direct and no-nonsense tone and demeanor, I didn’t miss the sliver of self-consciousness in her eyes. A billion words pressed themselves on my tongue. I wanted to tell her how gorgeous she was, just as much as I wanted to ask if that meant I got to wash her back for her, too.

A part of me felt that pointing out that her stripping changed the dynamic between us would only make it awkward. But another part believed that not acknowledging it would make it even weirder, like when something was so bad you would rather convince yourself it wasn’t happening instead of dealing with it.

“Apologies. Your beauty addled my brain,” I said at last. “But you make a fair point. Practical and efficient. I approve!”

Although she snorted and made a face at me, I didn’t miss the subtle way her shoulders relaxed. I wanted to believe I’d handled it adequately.

“Those are but some of my countless qualities,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder in a theatrical way that had me laughing. “But thanks for noticing.”

I removed my boots and then stepped out of my pants as a wave of nervousness washed over me. It seemed silly for me to worry about what she might think of my appearance. I was extremely fit, and doubted she would find my body lacking. However, did she know what an Obosian penis looked like? Would it turn her on or distress her?

I straightened, and stood facing her, my chin lifted with a hint of defiance. Ciara didn’t look fazed or distraught by the spectacle before her. With incredible boldness, she let her gaze slowly roam over me with a possessiveness that had my blood rushing to my groin. Although undeniably appreciative, there was nothing lurid or objectifying in the way she admired me.

“You truly are a stunning male,” Ciara said almost wistfully.

“I’m glad you think so,” I added, feeling inexplicably timid.

She quickly plated her hair into a single braid which she wrapped around in a bun, cleverly weaving the end through her hair so that it would stay up. The gesture had her perky breasts slightly push forward, drawing my eyes to the dark areolas and taut little buds. They would look even more delicious with a golden piercing.

As if reading the thoughts coursing through my mind, my mate pointed at my nether region.

“From the moment I met you, I wondered how many piercings you would have and where they would be located,” she said in a soft voice.

I glanced down at my cock that was standing half erect. As soon as she had begun stripping, my shaft stiffened. It didn’t bother me that she should have this undeniable proof of my growing arousal. While it could be perceived as offensive, I believed the absence of visible desire on my part when she was fully naked before me for the first time would have been far more problematic.

“I can say without hesitation that every single adult Obosian, maleandfemale, has at least a couple of piercings or implants in their private parts,” I said with amusement.

“Judging by yours, it’s a lot more than a couple,” Ciara said, scrunching her face in an unreadable fashion.

I glanced down at my cock, my gaze roaming over the two rows of three round studs on each side of my length, near thebase, the barbels at the beginning of the shaft, the one on my head, and the two additional studs right below the glans.

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