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Ro watches me with the same curious gaze as he always does from the examination bed, his tail slick still from emerging from the tank where I observed his motor patterns as he swam. The way his fins open and close to varying degrees as he moves through the water is interesting. Sadly, the tank is too small to observe him swimming more naturally. I wonder if I can get permission to observe him in one of the large dolphin pools. It would require special permission from the local aquarium and sea-life rehabilitation center, but Mr. Clarence has enough pull within the community to get it done, I think. Especially in the name of research.
I make a small note on the margin of the sheet clipped to the board I’m holding and follow it with a large question mark. From there my eyes rake over what I’m supposed to be doing today. More measurements it seems… and photographs. My cheeks suddenly burn when it sinks in exactly what they wish for me to examine.
All parts of the Aquana’s reproductive physiology means one thing.Oh, fuck.
“Is everything well?” Ro asks, his neck craning as he peers down at my hastily written note.
I slap my hand over the sheet, my cheeks growing hotter. I know for a fact that he can’t read, but I can’t help but be embarrassed about what I’ve been instructed to observe. I don’t know why I’m surprised either. Yesterday, I spent a good half-hour photographing in detail how his fins various splay and their specific positions on his tail due to the fact that they are curious if Aquanas can be identified by fin patterns rather like how individual whales and orcas are recognized by their dorsal fins. That wasn’t shocking, but this… telling Ro that I need him to bring out the babymaker as we go into detail over how his kind reproduces makes me wish I could just be struck dead right on the spot.
A concerned look flickers over Ro’s face, and he reaches forward to pry my hand away from the words that he still wouldn’t be able to read. “Keri, what is it?”
It’s the note of genuine worry in his voice, however, that makes me feel terrible for my overreaction. He can’t help the fact that this is embarrassing for me. And frankly it’s embarrassing only because of the reaction I have to him. I’m quite certain that if it were the gnome who took up residence in the small hill at the end of the street in my neighborhood, I wouldn’t be quite as embarrassed. It would have been uncomfortable, but I would have been able to approach it in a detached manner. With Ro, however, the charge of desire between us is as unfortunate for what we need to do as it is uncontrollable. But that still doesn’t give me a right to make him worry needlessly.
“It’s nothing. Nothing at all,” I quickly assure him. “I just wasn’t expecting that we would be going over this today.”
A little fib considering I hadn’t expected it to come up at all, but I sell it like crazy because there’s no need for him to know just how shocked it made me. And how it stirred the lust within me so effortlessly. He absolutely doesn’t need to know that I’m experiencing creeper feelings while ogling his dick.
Instead, I tap at the page and give him a confident smile that I don’t feel. “We will be doing some more measurements and photographs, but this time we will be going over how Aquanas reproduce. It’s unfortunate that we don’t have a female in for comparative differences, but perhaps we will be lucky enough to wrangle a volunteer.”
I’m shocked when he shrugs as if it’s nothing. Here I’m about to have heart failure and he’s acting as if I just told him that his tuna sandwich comes with pickles.
“You would have to find another Gurekna Aquana,” he says, and I nearly drop my clipboard at just how in stride he is taking this examination.
“Wh… what?”
His lips tip provocatively. “There are several subgroupings of Aquana, as well as closely related species such as the tentacled Voridon. The Gurekna are known for our distinct tailfin and tail sails,” he says, gesturing to his fins and then back where the dorsal fin unfolds in resemblance to the dorsal of a sailfish. “As for my reproductive anatomy, I do believe most males of my species are similar. What would you like to see first?”
“Mating barbs,” I squeak, needing the reminder of just why it’s not a good idea to become entangled with the male.
“I wasn’t aware that humans knew of those,” he replies, curious but otherwise unruffled.
I blush a little, not wanting to reveal just how much I know and my sick desire to see it all in the flesh now that I’ve been given the all-clear for it.
“There’s a book on merfolk in the library that mentioned them. It sounds like a good place to start. I know from what this book says that they’re vital to your procreation, even if it doesn’t go into particular detail.”
Which really it doesn’t. Other than saying generally what they are used for, I realize that the author left it to the imagination of the reader. Whether that was because they expected their audience to assume the worst, and intentionally planned for that, I couldn’t say.
Ro nods as if my request is entirely sensible and lifts his arms. The fins there are currently flat, and I watch him extend them to their full length like he does when he’s swimming. Unlike the beautiful fan of his tailfin, this is a sharp cut webbing like that of his sail and the secondary dorsal fin that runs down the back of his tail. Each thin bone of the fin seems tipped with a spike. I watch as he turns his arm so that I’m looking at the inside of his arm. Gradually the texture seems to rise, and I gasp in surprise when I notice three small spines push up from beneath the skin about halfway down his forearm.
Though I’m startled a little with how it works, I’m actually glad that they look the way that they do. I’ve had nightmares about them. Long, sharp needles sinking in and impaling me, or hooks tearing at my flesh. These wouldn’t exactly be pleasant if used without any caution whatsoever, but they remind me of very small sea urchin spines and that sets me a little more at ease. The barbs are only roughly about an inch long, which definitely helps make them less scary. They would prick and scratch, but they otherwise appear safe. Which is a load off my mind—for other ladies who might be seduced by an Aquana’s charm, that is. Not me.
“Do you mind if I touch them?” I ask with a forced nonchalance as if part of me isn’t dying to explore them just a little.
He grows hesitant and looks down at them uncertainly. “Don’t press down on them,” he finally says with a yielding look on his face. “The venom would be painful out of the water.”
I blink at him with surprise and swallow as I make a quick note on my clipboard. “Right. Venom produced by mating barbs is painful out of the water.” I glance up at him curiously. “Would you say just painful, or is there a chance of it being fatal?”
His brows knit in a frown, and I’m a little alarmed with the fact that he doesn’t seem to know.
“I am not sure,” he admits as I reach forward and very carefully squeeze a barb between my finger and thumb, and gradually increase the pressure to see how hard, or flexible, they are. There is some give to it to keep the barb from snapping, but it otherwise feels like I would expect hard bone to feel like. “We do not mate above the water as it’s not considered to be safe.”
I nod in acknowledgment, glad that the recorder is catching what he says even as I jot down my observations and then proceed to photograph them.
“Aside from the barbs, is there any other part of your anatomy which plays a part?” I ask distractedly.
Ro goes quiet, and I look up at him. His tail flicks lazily, the fins slightly less elegant than they appear doing the same gesture in water. His lips curl in a devious smile when he catches my eye, and then he looks pointedly down at his sheath, directly my full attention to the bulge at his pelvis.
“Oh… right. Aside from that,” I mumble, my face growing hot again.
