---Alchyinad’s Perspective---
Hired… we’re hired… I can’t believe this job just… fell into our laps! My stomach is still doing backflips!
I pass through the corridor of Portside Dorm, Deck 15, toward the new room we’re moving into.
I wave the door open and step inside. Just as the door closes behind me, the room is illuminated by the hot light of a mammalian Terran who steps from the bathroom.
My heart races as I stride over to him, seize him by his muscular neck (hard enough that beads of shining hot blood form at my claw tips) and snarl “Any last words, vermin?!”
In a deep, bassy voice, he chokes out “*guh*… Har…*kuh*…der…” causing me to burst into giggles, release my husband’s throat and pull him into an embrace, against my stomach.
His hands come up to the small of my back and stroke as he says “As always, Ally, the white silk dress, looks amazing on you…”
I chuckle “…And as always, Marc, I have to remind you that I have no idea what ‘white’ is, given that I don’t have the same colour vision as you do(!) My only context for what [white] looks like is that it’s the Terran funerary colour, used to be the colour of Terran wedding dresses and is, apparently, also the colour of my skin!”
I remember the objection his mother made over the decision for me to wear a traditional [white] dress at our wedding; ‘She looks like she’s going to your funeral later! Why did you go so gothic!? So macabre! White? Really!?’ I didn’t care at all, of course, but Marc was so deflated when his mother started talking about dying the dress a more contemporary ‘primary colour’… I put my foot down and sternly told her that the colour of my wedding dress had been settled and was not up for further discussion. I was worried that I had caused her to hate me, that day. However, if anything, I think that to be the day I earned her respect(!) Humans seem fond of assertiveness… generally.
As I recall my first meeting with my third husband’s mother, I feel his hands slide downward. My claws prick, once more, into his skin causing an “Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah…” from him.
“Where exactly do you think you’re putting those hands, without your Mistress’ permission, manthing?” I sneer.
“Nowhere, my Lady!” he says desperately, though with his [masochism] causing the corners of his mouth to curl upward, irresistibly.
“Nowhere? Really?” I say, cocking my head to the side “Because it felt, to me, as if you were attempting to put your grubby little man-hands on my buttocks!”
He gives a pathetic shrug.
I bend to bring my mouth level with his eyes, my claws still pricking the back of his neck, and bare my teeth in a fierce snarl.
---Marc’s Perspective---
The power! The POWER!!!
My wife is bent double, with her obsidian-black eyes staring imperiously down her pronounced, loveheart nose and her shark teeth peering through her fulsome, black lips, inches from my face.
Fuck, I love her!
Somehow, I have never felt as safe as when this hypercarnivorous woman (of one of the only sapient species in the galaxy that might be more than a match for a Terran, in a fight) digs her claws into my flesh!
If she ordered me to die for her… I don’t even know that I would ask why!
She smiles that imperious smile and says “Fetch the kit… you’re going to apologise for your impertinence with a mani-pedi…” before releasing my neck and striding over to the Spelvuk sized armchair.
My heart swells and I beam as I go to the enormous trunk I brought here by hovertrolley, earlier.
I lean over the top and begin digging… after a few moments, I find what I’m looking for.
I take the pouch and hurry back to the Goddess, reclining on her throne.
As I approach, I make for the footrest, only for her to put her feet up on it and gesture to the ground at her left side with her index finger analogue.
I kneel where she indicated and she lazily proffers her hand to me.
I take the hand, unfurl the kit and begin work on her claws.
“I see you had your priorities in order about what needs to be unpacked first(!)” she says mirthfully, gesturing to the wallhanging I made sure I got out and hung up, before I showered.
“Yeppers-peppers!” I smile, not looking up from her manipulator digits “It’s my favorite thing either of us own!”
She gives a harsh laugh, which causes her balcony sized chest to bounce alluringly in the low gravity, resulting in a painful, groinward rush of blood “A bold claim, manthing! Our wedding rings or wedding photos don’t take that title? None of the… *uh-hhm*… bedroom accessories? A depiction of me from a War I was already fighting in before you existed takes the top spot, does it?”
“Yes, my Lady.” I answer politely, with no defiance.
I can see a smile touch her face, in my periphery, before she closes her eyes, rests her head against the seatback and asks “Why?”
“Well… you just look so… powerful…”
Without opening her black holes of eyes, she cocks a brow and says “You can’t even see my face through that reverse engineered, durasteel armour!”
“Yep… that’s… kinda the point…”
“Oh!?” she says, mock danger in her voice “You don’t like looking at my face, manthing(?)”
“That’s certainly not what I said or meant.” I correct, calmly “I just meant that, behind that helmet, you could have any expression… or none. It’s… exciting… The fact that yours is one of the only species able to stand up in a practical suit of durasteel… well, it definitely helps the whole ‘power’ picture! The plasmaglaive, the engraved Spelvuzh hieroglyphs, the power pose… they all add to the impression that this is one Warrior Princess with… whom… you… do… NOT wish to fuck(!)”
She lets out a sultry chuckle and says “For the millionth time, Marc… I’m not a ‘princess’! The title of [Papess] is nonhereditary! I am the great-granddaughter of [Papess] Thtëi and I did train in her Honour Guard but that means precisely nothing! If I wished to become [Papess], I’d have centuries of [clerical] work ahead of me before I was even eligible for the position… not to mention, Great-Grandmother would have to die… (or retire, at least!) then I’d have to actually be elected, of course!”
“You’re right, my Love… I shouldn’t call you ‘Princess’… ‘Queen’, ‘Empress’, ‘Goddess’ are titles that fit you much better(!)” I quip as I get up and change sides, to begin work on her right hand.
Another chuckle follows before she says “You realise I was bald under that helmet? No [eyebrows] either! You realise I looked a lot less like Lady Dimitrescu and a lot more like Nosferatu, when that picture was taken?”
As I begin filing the claws of her right hand, I answer “Yes… the baldness was never a turn off to me, Ally… I know you didn’t believe that I could possibly be into a bald, 3m, Spelvuk woman, the first… 15, 16 times I asked you out… but I found the cue-ball look just as sexy as the modded black hair!”
I can’t tell for sure… not having Spelvuk heat vision… but I’m guessing the warm patterns on her face just expanded with embarrassment.
“In my defence, Marc… the deep voice, the muscles, the generally charming, energetic, extroverted-seeming demeanour… you gave every impression of being a [Top]… that’s a large part of why I rejected you so many times… I didn’t know about [What It Is That We Do] yet but I knew I wasn’t interested in the man you seemed to be advertising yourself to be… I also thought it was fairly likely that you were playing some sort of joke on me… pretending to be interested only to then reveal that you weren’t, once I had reciprocated… or that you were less interested in me than you were in the fact that I was a nonTerran… that you might be inclined to ‘hit it and quit it’, as your species so charmingly put it, just so you could say you’d had sex with an alien(!)”
I smile “Yep, Ally. I’m sorry I gave you that impression… I’m glad we ran into eachother at that BDSM mixer… I’m glad I’m yours now…”
The look she gives me is enough to make me wish she’d let me get gene therapy for infrared vision… I’ve seen visible spectrum representations of what her skin looks like in IR and… it’s breathtaking… it would be amazing to be able to see her blush, too… I suppose… part of the point of choosing to give her control of my finances is that it is sexy when she tells me ‘No, that’s a frivolous purchase, save your allowance if you want it that badly!’ I can’t have it both ways!
I finish polishing the onyx-black talons of her right hand to razor points and a mirror sheen and say “That’s 8 of your upper digits done… would you like me to do the other six now or…?”
She smirks and wags her finger, affecting a Terran tut as well “*tut**tut**tut**tut**tut**tut**tut*… Nice try, manthing! I’m not taking off my dress just yet… you’re still being punished, not rewarded… you can take care of the other six, next time you massage me! For now…” she gestures at her feet, majestically clad in highheeled, glossy leather, thighhigh boots “…I believe I instructed a ‘mani-pedi’… you’ve only done the first part.”
I sweetly flourish “This unworthy servant humbly begs permission to remove your boots, tights and protectors that he may see to your talons, Mistress.”
She smirks “Granted, manthing… just remember… this is for my sake, not yours. I do not permit you to become erect, yet!” while pulling up the sides of her dress to unclip her stockings from her garters.
“I’m… not able to become erect, right now, Ally… remember?” I say, breaking character slightly.
She stares at me a moment, confused, before realization falls over her face “Oh! That’s right! I’d forgotten! How long has it been?”
I shift uncomfortably “It’s… it’s been nearly a week…”
She gives a cruel laugh “How admirably you’ve endured! No wonder I’d forgotten(!) Well… I’ll tell you what… do a good enough job on the pedicure and… perhaps, a few other little ‘favours’ for me and we’ll see about getting that off!”
I beam “Thank you, Mistress!”
She gives a gracious nod and wave before gesturing to the far side of the footstool.
I make to kneel there but she holds up her palm and says “Ah! Before you start…” she bites her lip, gently, with her shark teeth “…I’d like you to remove your shirt.”
Obediently, I nod and pull the hem over my head, exposing my chest.
She doesn’t have any visible whites or irises to her eyes so it’s not possible to see exactly where she’s looking… but it doesn’t take a genius to work out why she wanted my shirt off(!)
“May I, first, check that the door is locked, Mistress?” I say, calmly.
“Err… wh-certainly…” she answers, absently.
I rush to the panel, trying to distract myself from the pain inducing arousal of being ogled by my wife.
I check that the door is, indeed, locked and I switch the privacy field on.
I return to her feet and ask “May I begin?”
Seeming to have recovered from her distractedness, she nods imperiously and says “Begin…”
---Alchyinad’s Perspective---
My husband supports my calf with a hand that’s hot enough for me to feel the heat through the leather.
Reaching under my dress to the inside of my thigh, he locates the zip while scrupulously avoiding looking up my skirt.
Steadily, he brings the zip past my knee, down my inner calf and to my ankle.
That done, he pulls off my boot… erotically…
Stupid sexy Humans! How does this species manage to make everything they do… so damn erotic!?
Is it, possibly, the fact that they run hot enough to glow like fire?
Is it the fact that, having fought them… I know what they’re capable of?
I know that Marc’s definition of ‘taking care of himself’ gives him a sufficient amount of muscle to rival me!
Until 35 years ago… I would have called myself indomitable… one of the mightiest sapient warriors in the galaxy… born from one of the only planets to have to have a War of Unification before its expansion to the stars! Trained to elite status in the Honour Guard of the Northern [Papess] (one of Spelva’s two Diarchs, along with the Southern [Emperor])! Already a veteran of active combat!
Until they came…
The fact that I can’t definitively say I’d be the stronger warrior compared to a man who’s less than two thirds my height and only exercises for health and vanity(!)
Well, not that it matters… he’s a sweetheart and would never raise a fist in anger… he’s also mine… all the power of an elite warrior and happy to subordinate his will to mine… happy to make himself a slave to me.
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Such an exhilarating species!
As he shifts to start taking off my other boot and I feel my hallux pulled free of the hollow highheel, I’m struck by the memories of serving in the War; being captured, being so certain my long life had finally come to an end and only praying that they would kill me quickly… then serving out the last [14 months] of the War as a POW…
I recall, at first, continually asking my captors (those who’d been issued with a translator, at least) if they’d heard anything about my ransom yet and being met with many confused expressions… until one of them explained that they did not ransom prisoners of war!
I recall, years later, kneeling before my great-grandmother and asking permission to leave her Honour Guard… that I might travel to Terran Space and come to understand them… to understand the species of super soldiers who were unwilling to execute an unquestionably formidable foe that they had entirely within their power… the species who would waste resources on feeding, watering, sheltering and clothing an enemy warrior, for 14 months, while they were still at War, for no discernible benefit!
I recall deciding that I needed an academic basis for understanding the Human mind…
I recall selecting a university, attending, there being an annoying man in my class who made repulsive ‘hamana-hamana-hamana’ noises every time he saw me…
I recall telling him off, such that he backed off somewhat…
I remember one of my dormmates explaining what [kinks] were and coming to the realisation that that was why my previous 5 marriages had all failed… I hadn’t realised the reason they couldn’t satisfy me sexually was that we were not approaching things the right way. I needed a spouse who would willingly make themself my slave… No, not just ‘willingly’… it would have to be with relish! With gusto!!!
Even if I’d realised this about myself, I don’t know that I would have been able to ask either of my previous husbands or any of my previous wives to give me what I needed, sexually, as Spelvuk have such pride that, just asking might have been considered an unforgivable insult.
I recall meeting the annoying man at a [kink] club mixer and having a real conversation with him for the first time.
I recall kneeling to allow him to lift up my veil and kiss me, our officiating friend pronouncing us man and wife, followed by a cheer.
Back in the present, my husband tenderly slides off my left [stocking], then my right.
I take a moment to peer through the blinding light his skin emits to admire his handsome face… framed by a thick head of hair, adorned with [eyebrows] and [stubble], undeniably unSpelvuk and, yet, so handsome… and all mine!
He takes my left foot and pinches the end of the foot cover that I wear to keep my talons from tearing through my [tights] (that probably being the reason that [tights] are not worn on Spelva) and pulls it off my foot, liberating my six, forward facing talons and one downward facing hallux.
He repeats this for my other foot.
He reaches for the kit but, impulsively, my left foot shoots out to seize his wrist.
He turns to me, his expression querying.
I raise the talons of my right foot and flex them in front of his face “Would you say, manthing, that my talons still look polished and glossy from the last pedicure I had you give me?”
He hesitates before answering “I… I would say that, my Lady…”
I bring them to his chest and trace the tips against his pectoral. He winces but doesn’t withdraw from it (if anything, leaning in).
“And… would you say, manthing, that they still feel sharp enough to rend flesh? Yours, specifically?”
“I would say that, my Lady!” he says through quickened breaths.
I smile “In that case, slave… I’ve changed my mind… you can hold off on the pedicure for now… there’s something else I require of you…”
Innocently, he asks “And… what might that be, my Lady?”
Shooting a wry smile I reach to the hem of my dress and, very slowly, begin dragging it up my thighs.
“I think you can guess…”
Eagerly, he begins reaching out and then catches himself.
“May this unworthy possession of yours be granted permission to remove your panties, that he might attempt to pleasure your regal pussy, my Lady?” he asks, a little too formally.
I smirk and nod “Permission granted… you are also granted permission to place your filthy man hands on your Mistress’ buttocks(!)”
The glow of his face intensifies as his hot blood rushes to the surface of his skin.
---Marc’s Perspective---
I’m in some pain, right now… I’m losing the battle with my own lust!
Usually, if I started getting horny… the pain would reach a point where it wasn’t exciting anymore and I’d lose my hard on… right now, though, I’ve got my wife’s lifesavingly thicc thighs and soaking, black, silk panties in my face… her smell filling my nose and the fresh scratches she’s left on my chest… all of which are completely overriding the pain it’s causing me to be so aroused.
I work my fingers under the side wings of her panties and begin pulling them over her thighs.
Drinkable water being the one resource that was never scarce, in the evolutionary history of Spelva’s subterranean caves, my Spelvuk wife gets… a lot wetter than a Terran woman would.
The first time the two of us were intimate I actually thought she might have had… an ‘accident’… it was only the clear lack of embarrassment she demonstrated that clued me in to the fact that that wasn’t what had happened!
Trying to figure out how to ask her about it, without falsely implying it was a problem, was fun(!)
As I bring her soaking panties to her ankles, she tucks her two halluces under her soles and straightens her twelve front talons, to avoid any of them catching on and tearing apart her delicate panties.
I also take dutiful care not to allow that to happen as I pull the giant pair of sopping, black, silk panties over her feet.
Once they're in my hands my Mistress beckons me forward with a hungry smile.
Walking on my knees, I approach her.
She holds out her hand, wordlessly but unmistakably indicating that she wants me to give her her panties back.
I hand them over and she takes them with her right hand while her left palm comes to rest at the back of my neck.
She presses the panties, as wet as if they’d been held underwater, into my face. I splutter as my head is sandwiched between her left palm and panty bearing right.
She smothers me with her panties for a good thirty seconds before removing them and saying “Do you like having your face covered in my juices, manthing? You enjoy my marking you as what you are? A possession… A sextoy!”
Still gasping, I nod and answer “Yes…*huh*… Mistress… *huh*… I love it!”
She gives an approving smile before lifting her leg from the footrest and indicating for me to crawl underneath.
As I bring my face level with my Empress’ privates, I see her gorgeous, monstrous face peer over the crest of Mts. Booba.
“Are you going to stare at it all night, manthing, or are you going to eat it?” she sneers.
I smile, lean forward and bring my mouth to my Lady’s vulva and begin.
She gasps “I’ll never get used to that heat of yours, Human!”
I feel her variegated, lukewarm stripes (adapted to break up her outline, camouflaging her to Spelvun prey animals with IR vision, like vlang bats and tset moths) on her cool inner thighs, against my cheeks.
“That’s it, manthing! ...*hhhhh*… That’s what you’re for!...*hhhhh*… That’s your purpose! ...*hhhhh*… Making me feel pleasure! ...*hhhhh*… You exist for my sake! ...*hhhhh*…You’re mine! ...*hhhhh*… Never forget that, slave!” she shudders out through barely suppressed moans.
She’s right, of course, I am hers! It doesn’t hurt to be reminded of that, though… Actually, no, that’s wrong, it does hurt massively but that ship has largely sailed at this point. I just have to deal with the constricting pain until my Lady sees fit to release me from it.
I bring my hands to the outside of her colossal thighs and begin stroking, working my way steadily upward to the asscheeks that she’s now letting me touch.
It feels… decadent that any man should ever have access to this much combined ass! Even though the owner, of both me and the ass, gatekeeps my access to it, the fact that I’ve, even once, been allowed to touch such a magnificent backside feels like a pretty serious karmic debt!
My wife’s breathtaking face disappears behind her giga sized chest, as her spine arches backwards.
Three of the manipulator digits, of her right hand, dig their claws into the back of my head while her thumb digs its claw into my forehead. She pushes my face deeper, squashing my lips, nose and jaw against the front of her pelvis, entirely cutting off my ability to breathe!
Her shins cross behind my back and all fourteen of her pedal claws dig into my flesh, as my head is crushed from the sides by her enormous, meaty thighs.
Bliss…!
---Alchyinad’s Perspective---
The glowing face of my husband pokes from between my much duller thighs (the only light they produce being the striated pattern of dim light, meant to camouflage me to prey).
I haven’t allowed him to breathe for a while but, given that he’s still working that muscular tongue and those nimble lips against my ‘regal pussy’, I’d guess he’s doing just fine for oxygen(!)
I moan as the extraordinary man satisfies me.
Goddess damnit, Humans have to be good at everything, don’t they(!)
Casual exercise gains them the strength of a Spelvuk elite and more stamina than a Vinjirian!
Their historical diet of ‘anything going’ has given them toxin resistance to nearly rival the Suigu!
The need to overcome the challenges to survival native to a deathworld… well, I don’t wish to say it’s made them ‘more intelligent’ than others but, certainly, it’s given them unique minds that work fast and make extremely abstract connections meaning that a below average Human can sometimes see things that a room full of intelligent nondeathworlders miss!
When it comes to their compassion… there’s not another species to whom it’s fair to compare them!
Could the Goddess not at least have made them inept lovers?
There really isn’t much for which to degrade this man, the way he loves to be degraded… There’s only so much mileage to be had out of his flat feet and monofunctional upper limbs(!)
He’s slightly short, for a Human, but that does put him around [10cm] taller than the average Spelvuk man…
That being said… I probably wouldn’t choose to make him a less competent lover, just to be able to demean him for that fact(!)
Briefly, I lose my composure as I’m induced to climax.
A moment passes before I pull my husband’s respiratory orifices out of my reproductive one, allowing him to take a tortured gasp of air.
I unlatch my claws from his back, bring my thighs off his shoulders, pull him to his feet by his hair, look at his, still glowing, upper face then at his lower face, dimmed by my juices. I kiss him, and taste myself on his mouth. I do not kiss him tenderly, nor gently, I kiss aggressively! I kiss him such that he knows to whom he belongs! He’s mine and I’m never letting him go!
Pressing his bright hot chest between my breasts I break my lips from his and say “You…*huh*… you just did…*huh*… a more than adequate…*huh*… job of pleasuring…*huh*… your Mistress…*huh*… choose your reward!”
He falters a moment then looks downward.
“Ah…” I smirk cruelly “…you think you’ve earned that?”
He thinks for a moment before carefully answering “That’s for my Lady to decide, my Lady.”
By the Goddess, this man! There’s only so aroused I can get!
“Get on the bed!” I command, playfulness gone and replaced with urgency.
He complies and I follow after. He lies down and I straddle him before reaching over his head… will they be there? Either way I get to demean him… he’s either an incompetent who cannot preempt his Mistress’ wishes… or he’s a manslut!
My hand finds what I’m looking for… manslut it is(!)
“So… the wallhanging of me in armour… and the underbed restraints(?!) Those are the two most important things to unpack, are they(?)” I mock.
He says nothing but his face does glow brighter.
“Well… your easy virtue has been useful to me this time, manthing!” I say as I clip his hands into the cuffs.
My hands move down to the waistband of his trousers and yank them down revealing a cage containing his cock… no… not his… mine!
“How has it felt, having my little cock caged up like that for so long, manthing?” I smirk at the man with his hands bound above his head.
“Honestly, Mistress, it’s hurt a lot… but it reminded me I’m yours, so I didn’t mind it that much.”
Gah, right in the feels!
Quick! Think of something cruel to retort!
“Well… we could leave it on if you…”
“No…” he begs, desperately “…please, Mistress, I’m yours! This cock is yours! Please! Use me!”
Now… were I in the mood, I would definitely punish him for impertinence, again… However, I really do wish to use him.
And… since he asked so nicely(!)
---Marc’s Perspective---
My Lady grins the grin that made me understand how unnerving toothbaring is to gardenworlders…
She yanks my pants and undies over my feet and retrieves the cuffs at the bottom of the bed, fastening them around my ankles, cutting off my last means of fighting back.
I’m now just a cut of meat, spread out on the bed for my Lady to enjoy… Not that she actually could eat me…
I remember the time I convinced her to try out sexual vampirism and sent her to the hospital with my blood’s iron content!
She’ll be enjoying this meat in a less literal way…
Her hand dives into her chasmal cleavage and reemerges holding an ornate key on the end of a filigree chain, which she pulls over her head.
She’s been wearing that key between her boobs, all week?! She had my chastity key so close to visible to everyone!? Damn, that’s hot!!!
She brings the key to the matching padlock and releases it.
She slides the shackle out of the loops and then breaks the ring that went beneath my balls allowing the cage to be slid down my shaft.
Sensing its newfound freedom, my cock immediately lunges to attention before its Mistress.
She laughs “I can see someone’s eager(!)”
Trying my best to convey both earnestness and urgency, I answer “Yes, my Lady, both your cock and your slave are extremely eager for you!”
She brings that mouthful of shark teeth inches from me and exhales a cool breath onto this cock of hers.
She opens her mouth and makes as if she’s going to bite… the exhilaration of realizing, if she actually decided to perform an oral castration, there’d be jack-shit I could do about it, in my current predicament, causes my heartrate to skyrocket and my dick to get, somehow, even harder(!)
She brings her head over me and lowers her wide open mouth before closing it just enough that I can feel the razor sharp tips of her teeth as she drags them back up my shaft at the perfect compromise of gentle and painful!
I could cum, just from this pain!
She rears back up and brings her hands to the knot of her silk belt, at her stomach, untying it and allowing her dress to hang loose.
With her right hand, she reaches over her left shoulder to free the claws of her left digits V, VI and VII from behind her back before repeating the process for her right shoulder.
That done, she stands and allows the dress to fall to the floor, leaving a garter belt as the one remaining piece of fabric on her body (bras are kinda anatomically challenging for Spelvuk women to wear so her dress is built for support, allowing her to go braless).
She, at this point, T-poses and both of her digit Vs rotate 180°, dragging her VI and VII digits behind them, unfolding the alabaster batwings of a gothic angel… my Gothic Angel… my Mistress… my Owner…
She remounts the bed, positions her hips above mine and bares down with her, near 6m, wingspan.
With the talons of her right foot, she seizes my throat “Whose is this throat, slave?”
“Yours *guh* Mistress…” I choke.
She smirks and brings the claws up to my face “And whose is this handsome face?”
“Yours Mistress…” I nearly whisper.
A nod of approval before she moves her foot to grasp both my cock and balls “And these?”
“Also yours, Mistress…”
She hesitates a moment then brings the ball of her foot just to the top right of my left nipple… “…And this?”
It takes a moment for me to work out what she means but, when it clicks for me, I smile “Yours until the end of time! My heart, my love, my life and anything else I might ever have that you might ever want, is yours!”
She returns my smile then lowers her hips.
---Alchyinad’s Perspective, later that night---
My wings are wrapped behind my, glowing hot, husband’s back as he lies on my chest and we embrace, in postorgasmic bliss, his face against my clavicle, his stomach between my breasts, his cock (milked thoroughly dry) resting against my stomach, his legs between my thighs. I can feel his steam engine of a heart (on the wrong side) beating robustly through his chest, on top of my (right side) heart.
He idly traces his index finger along my right wing digit.
“Marc…?” I start, uncertainly.
“Yeah, Ally?” he answers, turning his radiant face to me.
“I just… I want to make sure you realise… if you ever feel like you need to renegotiate things… that’s OK… we can talk about it…”
He smirks, with that [power bottom] energy that originally made me think he was a [Top], and answers “What would I renegotiate?”
“Well…” I say, a little uncomfortably “…anything, really… but I’m thinking specifically the whole servant role you take on, outside the bedroom… I love it that you unpack for me, cook for me, clean for me… help me dress in the Terran style… I find it exciting that you have no control over your own finances… but if any of those arrangements ever… lose their lustre for you, please tell me… I’d hate to lose you over something like that…”
A grin breaks across his face, exposing his flat, omnivore teeth and making my heart skip a beat “Ally… I know you’ve got, like, 5 marriages, 32 decades of life experience and 3 kids on me and, in fact, your youngest daughter is old enough to be my grandma but… you realize you and I just graduated Clinical Psychology together, in the same year with the same grade… right? You think I’m gonna let a petty communication issue, like that, end things between us? I know what I’m about and, acting like your servant, outside the bedroom, and your slave, inside, makes. me. HAPPY!… If I ever want to revisit things, I’ll tell you, OK?”
I cock one of the Terran [eyebrows] I purchased to put classmates and clients at ease and answer “You don’t think ‘I’m a therapist, therefore immune to relationship woes’ is a little arrogant?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head “Not what I’m saying. I’m not saying we’re immune to trouble… there are definitely gonna be moments where we fight! It’s unrealistic and unhealthy to expect a relationship where things stick to idyllic perfection all the time. I do think we’re better equipped, than most, to work through relationship roadblocks but, more than that… it’s you! You’re the reason I don’t think I’ll have any problem doing whatever necessary to maintain our relationship! I love you, Ally!… I’m not going to let you get away for some dumb, petty reason like not being willing to tell you I’m over some part of our negotiated play!”
I beam “I… I love you too, Marc.”
He nods, as if to say ‘Good! Now that’s sorted…’ before saying “Alright then… we’d better get some sleep… that pair of Red Panda Doctors next door have invited us to have pancakes together, tomorrow morning!”