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He grins at me, leaning in…and then pulls back before our lips can meet. “Do you wish to kiss me because you are grateful?”
“Yes.”
Skarr shakes his head, his expression flashing with disappointment. “Then I do not want it. I only want your kisses if you want to kiss me. Not because you feel you should.”
I understand what he’s saying. I pat his chest, clarifying. “I wanted to kiss you because I’m happy and because you’re the one that made me happy. It felt like the right thing to do, not an obligation. I suggested it as a way to show my happiness. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t want to kiss you.”
He gazes down at me, thoughtful. “But…Vivi, I still have two penises.”
My face heats. We’re going to talk about thisnow? “Okay, but I was talking about kisses. You’re taking things to eleven.”
“My body does not please you. I can build you huts and kiss you all day long—and I would love to kiss you all day long—but it will not change the fact that I have two cocks. I will never be the mate you want me to be.” Skarr is somber, holding me loosely, as if he’s afraid that I’ll pull away again.
I realize that I’ve hurt him, and I feel even worse. How many times have I felt awkward in my own skin, being too tall and too plain? It’s a feeling I recognize, a memory I have, and I hate that I’m making him doubt himself over something out of his control. It just makes me feel worse.
I gaze at his chest, unable to make eye contact. If I do, I’ll never be able to spit out the words I clearly need to say. So I fuss with the leather strap that crosses over his pectorals and attaches to his belt. It keeps the leather wraps pinned to his body and prevents his belt from sagging on one side when his belt pouches are full. I know it’s a practical sort of garment, but I think it looks a tiny bit rakish and I like it. I fuss with it, straightening it and trying to think. “We should talk.”
“I thought that is what we are doing right now?”
Ugh, he’s not making this easy for me. “I was very drunk that night and I acted in ways that I would not normally act. I certainly would never grab a man’s crotch without asking permission.”
He’s silent.
I pluck at the strap, flustered. “So you can’t hold it against me that I ran away. I was startled to learn about the…differences in our bodies, but that doesn’t make it gross. There’s nothing wrong with you. I was just surprised.”
“But it still does not appeal to you?”
“I have genuinely never given it much thought before now,” I admit, face hot. “Is it um, a normal situation for guys like you?”
“Ssethri males are born with two cocks, yes.”
“And do they both, ah, get hard at the same time?”
“They do for me, but only one carries seed.” His khui is humming louder under my hands, making me very aware of this conversation and the husky way Skarr tells me facts about his body. “The other just experiences pleasure.”
I have so many questions, but I don’t know how intrusive they would be. Do lady ssethri have two vaginas? Are his penises the same size? Does one feel better than the other? Get harder faster? It seems nosy to ask, but I don’t get the impression that Skarr minds. I think he likes me asking about his penis. Penises.
I manage a tiny smile and nudge the leather strap with my fingers again. “See, there you go. It’s normal for your people but not for mine, and that’s why I got startled. I didn’t run because I thought you were repulsive.”
“So you would have continued to kiss me?”
“Not if you didn’t want me to.”
“Would you kiss me now?” he asks, voice low and husky.
It sends heat curling through my system. “Only if you want me to.”
He gazes down at me, eyes bright. His fingers stroke along my jaw, lightly caressing. “I would like that.”
I nod, licking my lips nervously. Then I pull on that strap across his chest, tilting him toward me. I’m nervous, but not afraid. This is Skarr. He might be alien, but he’s made it clear that heworshipsme. It’s heady stuff.
His mouth descends towards mine, and I rise to meet him. Our lips brush ever so gently, and a bolt of pleasure flares through my body at that small touch. I kiss him, putting all of my sincerity into the touch of our lips. I want him to know how I feel. That I never meant to hurt him. That I’m terrified of what the future brings, but it’s not his fault. That kissing him has been one of the few pleasures this new world has brought me.
That I miss him when he’s gone, and it makes me feel strange to admit that.
Our mouths play against one another and he’s content to let me lead. My kisses are soft and gentle, giving promises and teases and only the barest graze of tongue. He groans against me and then I pull back, studying his expression.
“I know I’ve been wrapped up in my own head,” I confess to him, my mouth throbbing and soft. His is flushed a deeper green, and I want to kiss it again, but I also want him to reach for me. “But I promise I’m going to do better.”
