Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons: Chapter Twelve

Tenir was practically vibrating as she stepped back into her apartment, throwing her key-chit onto the kitchen counter before – delicately – dumping her most recent hobby purchases onto the floor.

“Ugh,” she grunted as she slid onto her couch.

A couch on which she’d had a man last night. A couch which had served as a prelude to getting laid.

She’d gotten laid.

By a guy!

One who hadn’t been weirded out by her hobbies – despite their reputation both online and IRL as basically just dick-repellent. The kind of thing that a guy might tolerate as a result of some greater affection for you.

Her eyes inched over to the back cupboard, in which even now sat a veritable smorgasbord of her most nerdy models and paraphernalia. Things that most certainly didn’t fit in her otherwise quite trendy apartment.

…Perhaps next time, she’d leave a few of them out. Just a few.

She couldn’t resist some small part of her that twitched at that thought.

Next time.

Because there would be a next time.

Because she had a sex-friend.

That thought alone made it practically impossible to resist the urge to pull out her pad and brag about her most recent conquest to Saria. She did manage to resist though, through incredible effort.

She wasn’t some kind of furry-leg who kissed and told. Oh sure, she’d allow herself a small smirk and maybe a few choice comments when she next saw the oversized rodent, but for the moment what had occurred between her and Kalia’s newest hire would remain between them.

Indeed, that thought did something to sober her.

While she’d hardly be the first amongst their trio to sleep with one of Kalia’s seasonal chefs, she’d be the first one of them who wasn’t Saria. And unlike Saria, Tenir did hold some degree of nominal power over Mark as part of that arrangement.

Something he’d clearly been quietly concerned about as they got ready to part.

Which had been nice in a way, in that it made clear that he hadn’t slept with her in some attempt to maybe sweeten his already quite generous seasonal contract.

…Not that she’d have necessarily been against being used in such a way. She could be honest enough with herself to admit that. The team’s funding came from Kalia’s mother anyway, and it wasn’t like the costs to maintain their stable amounted to anything more than a rounding error for the woman anyway.

Still, the fact that the man had made it clear that their entanglement was to be kept entirely separate from their working relationship was sweet.

His unspoken worry that she’d use her position to pressure him into more of what he was already freely offering was less so, the thought making her frown a little as she let ‘home Tenir’ fade to the background in favor of ‘work Tenir’.

No, the next time she saw him, she’d make it abundantly clear that whatever was going on between them most definitely wouldn’t have any affect on their working relationship.

Still, the fact that he’d also made it clear that he wasn’t interested in a relationship – that the night had been a fling – was something she wasn’t sure how to feel about.

Sure, she’d not exactly been looking for anything more than exactly what she’d gotten, but as her eyes lingered on her most recent purchases, she found herself pondering ‘what if’.

She’d enjoyed hanging out with him  - maybe even more than the sex. It had been nice. Just being herself. Talking about the things she enjoyed. And while it was clear he had mostly been humoring her, there’d been enough genuine interest there she hadn’t felt pandered to.

She’d forgotten what it was like to share her passions with other people IRL. She was an infrequent visitor to the stores. For the most part, she tended to pop in, grab a few things and slip out again without much in the way of conversation. If she didn’t just get what she wanted delivered instead.

Cripes, the last time she’d actually sat down with someone in meat-space to talk about anime or models was… skies, it would have been high school.

She’d tried to unsuccessfully bury those interests in university in an – unsuccessful – bid to reinvent herself. Beyond that, she’d just been plain too busy, between courses and meeting Kalia.

Everything after that had been a whirlwind of getting hired on as the heiress’ manager and desperately trying to get the gladiator stable set up. It was only the past year or so that things had finally settled down enough that any of them actually had had any free time to spare.

Ugh, she winced.

Because she’d just come to a realization.

Her entire social network were actually just her work colleagues. And by that metric, Saria made up a good third of her social circle. A quarter if you included Mark - but she wasn’t quite so sad as to count him a close ‘friend’ based on a single evening.

Even if it was tempting…

Because it had a been a pretty incredible evening.

And he’d said they were ‘sex-friends’.

Surely that meant he could be counted?

Shit, she realized, flushing - she’d forgotten to ask about his interests.

Though… did she need to? Were sex-friends just booty calls - or was friendship actually part of the deal?

…She kind of wanted it to be. After all, she still had a few other shows she wanted to watch with him. If only to prove that not all anime was as pervy as what they’d watched last night. And there were those anime from Earth he’d mentioned. How cool would that be? Watching alien anime with an actual alien hotty.

And then having sex afterwards!

She flushed slightly before shaking her head.

Ultimately, the question was, how much ‘friendship’ was actually involved in having a ‘sex-friend’?

“I need to call Kalia,” she grunted.

The Vrekian would know.

Admittedly, Saria likely would too – but Tenir would sooner run naked through a field of Krel-rats than go to the Pesrin for advice on a guy.

That could wait though. Instead, she stood up to go collect her purchases, getting ready to ‘file away’ each item in the various nooks and crannies she’d laid out across the apartment for them.

Sorting through the pots of paint and boxes of prints, she found her eyes resting on the KlixaCon leaflet that had been placed inside.

She’d been once. When she was in high-school. Along with a few of her friends from the anime club. It’d been a lot of fun – even if they’d all been too poor to buy anything more than the tickets themselves.

She’d considered going last year, now that she was less busy and her significantly more disposable capital for ill-advised purchases, but the thought of going alone hadn’t been too appealing. And unfortunately, Kalia hadn’t been interested when the Nighkru had tentatively raised the topic.

She hadn’t even bothered to ask Nerrick or Saria. For roughly similar and yet entirely different reasons.

So yeah, given how that had gone, some part of her had kind of accepted that this year would be roughly similar – and that she’d need to let the convention go unvisited or just accept going alone.

“Perhaps I don’t need to though?” she murmured.

Perhaps Mark might have an interest. He’d liked the store well enough. And what was a convention really, if not an even bigger store.

She froze.

…Perhaps he’d even give cosplay a go.

It was usually a guy thing after all! And he was a guy!

Her heart-rate sped up a bit, her mind instinctively picturing the human dressed up as a few of her favorite characters.

In their iconic outfits.

Or lack thereof.

Then she frowned.

Was she pushing too far? Sex-friends didn’t do conventions… or did they?

She groaned, gripping the leaflet as she flopped back on the couch. As she did, she couldn’t help but note that the fabric still held a faint trace of the human’s masculine scent.

She definitely didn’t sniff it.

Definitely.

----------------

Given his actual job only actually required him to work all of twenty hours a week, if that, Mark had no issue whatsoever with making a few simple meal-preps for Sarai at her request.

Hell, the only reason it likely wasn’t already in his contract to begin with was because, to be totally frank, he’d been placed into a role that likely should have gone to someone significantly more famous.

Basically, the alien equivalents of Gordan Ramsay or Alain Ducasse.

Now, while Mark certainly liked to think of himself as talented enough, he was very aware that he wasn’t even close to that level of skill or fame.

Yet.

Nor was Francis – his old boss. Sure, the guy wasn’t exactly a nobody either, especially in their niche of alien cooking, but he wasn’t a household name.

To that end, Mark could only really attribute the incredibly generous terms of his current contract as being a result of the initial contractual template being formed from one used to entice genuinely famous chefs.

Human or not, the numbers involved in his own contract had been scaled down to be merely incredibly generous for a chef of his skill level - but the many contractual clauses on his time and talents were still essentially what would otherwise have been offered to the likes of an alien Gordon Ramsay.

Who most definitely would have had other time commitments.

Time commitments that wouldn’t really have given them the inclination to make a few easily reheatable meals for the consumption of Kalia’s quite small household staff.

He’d initially suggested making use of one the now empty stasis units to keep the meals ‘hot’ with, but Saria’s laughing not quite explanation had suggested that doing so wouldn’t have been quite as simple as just sliding the old food in and locking it in time.

Ultimately, he’d just shrugged and accepted that answer before setting about creating a few meals that would tolerate reheating well. And hopefully be a bit more nutritionally balanced than Saria’s usual takeout options.

He’d also made a few for Tenir and Kalia as well.

They hadn’t asked for it, but he figured he was already making some for Saria anyway. And if they didn’t want it, he figured he would take it home for himself. Or maybe give a few to Jelara.

Who he had a feeling had a diet roughly similar to Saria’s…

If nothing else, it’d serve as a nice sort-of apology for ditching after her immediately after their night together. Not that he thought she held it against him, given they’d exchanged a few messages, but it would be something nice to give her when they next saw each other face to face.

As he glanced at the timer on the Flax, he pondered whether now would be a good moment to pop back on over to the dining room to collect the dishes, when a thought occurred to him.

“Saria?”

“-and that’s why you really need to make sure the manifold… yeah?” The Pesrin paused in her diatribe about… something.

He thought it was related to anti-grav drives, but to be honest, he’d kind of spaced out of the conversation roughly around the start of her second sentence. Mostly because it had contained more words he didn’t know than did.

Not that Saria seemed to notice. So he’d been content to let her jabber away at him. Truth be told, even if it was mostly just patter for him, he still enjoyed the company Saria’s presence provided. He knew some chefs wouldn’t, seeing it as a distraction, but he was a man accustomed to cooking in a busy kitchen.

A kitchen in the middle of the dinner rush tended to get loud.

And while a single Saria couldn’t quite replicate that level of ambient clamor on her own, she’d managed to get damn close.

“The security team has eyes on dining room, right?” he asked.

Saria blinked owlishly at him before nodding. “Yeah?”

“Would whoever’s on cams right now be willing to inform me when Kalia and her guest are finished with their meals? Assuming it’s no trouble. I’d go check myself, but…” He gestured to the many pans currently sizzling away in front of him.

“Uh, sure,” the Pesrin said, before rapidly tapping away on her data-pad.

He nodded, moving back to stirring one of the pots.

“They said it’s no problem,” Saria continued a moment later.

“Great, thanks.”

Satisfied that keeping an eye on that was no longer an issue for him, he smiled at her. “So, sorry for interrupting you, I think you were talking about… a manifold?”

Saria nodded eagerly, before a thought seemed to occur to her. “Actually, before I get back to that, I wanted to talk about what I originally came in here for, before I got distracted.”

“Hmmm?”

“What did you think of your first mech fight?” She leaned forward, tail swaying behind her. “Kalia told me she lent you some tickets.”

“Oh, it was exciting,” he said as he pulled out one of the baking trays, inspecting the colorful Vresh-bake held within. “I see why it’s so popular. Though I can’t help but think I’d have been a little lost if Tenir hadn’t been there to help guide me through it all.”

“Oh, Tenir was there?” Saria said with clearly feigned casualness, glancing to the side. “Did you two end up… hanging out afterward?”

He resisted the urge to laugh. Satia was many things, but a great actor clearly wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, we hung out afterwards,” he said, keeping his tone neutral as he flipped a bunch of vraka into the pan. “Went to her place. Watched a little TV.”

Saria’s ears twitched, and she leaned forward, claws tapping the counter. “TV, huh…”

“Oh, and we had sex,” he said casually.

He definitely didn’t laugh as the alien’s tail went entirely rigid, her ears picking up like little radar dishes as she stared at him wide eyed.

“O-oh,” she stammered. “Cool… cool. Cool. Good for Tenir. And you. Of course. You thinking of making anything more of it?”

He shook his head. “Not at this point. Nothing against Tenir. She’s lovely. But I just came out of a long relationship and I’m not looking for anything too serious.:

That seemed to settle the Pesrin down.

“Right. Right.”

Which was when he went in for the kill. “S’why I figure we’ll keep it casual going forward. Just sex, you know?”

He watched her eyes widen once more as she glanced to the side, tails swaying wildly behind her. “R-right!”

She was just too fun to tease.

The two stayed silent for a time, the stillness broken only by the sound of sizzling pans. When the Pesrin finally did speak again, it was with the feigned casualness she’d had before.

“You, know, there’s another fight coming up this weekend. A big one. I’ve got an extra ticket, if you’d want to go again. I figure I might be able to give you a few… insights Tenir might have missed.”

Truth be told, that did sound like fun. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, the kitchen door slid open with a soft hiss.

A new figure strutted in, and Mark’s words died in his throat.

The newcomer was a Nighkru, like Tenir, but where her silver skin was understated, this one’s shimmered under the overhead lights like polished chrome.

She was tall, lithe, with long, dark hair tied back in into a loose ponytail that swayed as she moved. Her outfit - a tight, iridescent tunic and pants that hugged her frame - screamed confidence as she bounced along, like even just by walking through the kitchen she was performing for an invisible audience.

She had high cheekbones, full lips, and a pair of discreet tattoos just under her cheeks that glowed with soft blue-green bio-luminescence.

…Something that had to play merry hell with the alien’s night vision.

“Well, hello!” the Nighkru said, her voice bright and melodic, eyes brightening as she laid eyes on him. “You must be the human chef I’ve heard so much about. Mark, right?”

She extended a hand, fingers adorned with thin silver rings that clinked softly. “I’m Vrenal, Kalia’s social media manager and squire. Just got back from an off-world stint, and let me tell you, I am thrilled to finally have another male on the team!”

This time, as if part of some karmic balancing for his teasing of Saria before, it was Mark’s turn to freeze for a moment as he realized he wasn’t looking at a very attractive but very flat Nighkru woman and in fact a very feminine looking Nighkru male.

…Which, was pretty par for the course for some species – where the women tended to be bigger and stronger – but still served to surprise him each and every time it happened.

“That’s me,” Mark said casually as he took the proffered hand – a gesture that both their species shared as a form of greeting. “Mark Reynolds.”

“Delighted,” the alien said as he gripped Mark’s hand in both of his. “As I said, it’s not often we get another guy up in here, and I’m really looking forward to being friends.”

“S-sure,” Mark said, though for his part he was a little taken aback by the outward display of exuberance. “I’m sorry, did you say you were Kalia’s squire?”

Vrenal nodded, not missing a beat. “That I am, or at least, that was the closest comparison I could find for humans on the hyper-net. Well, maybe that mixed with a lot of ring-girl or race-girl.” He giggled. “It was actually a little funny, to see a bunch of girls doing the same job as me.”

Mark nodded, vaguely recalling that there had been two guys doing some announcing on the arena floor prior to the start of the match he’d watched the other night. Clearly they’d been performing the same function as Vrenal.

Though he’d said he was also Kalia’s social media manager?

“So yeah,” Vrenal continued. “I get the crowd going, I see Kalia off before she steps into her mech, and I make sure every holo-vid, every post and every moment of Kalia’s career sparkles.”

Mark nodded, a little amused despite himself. Despite his… mannerisms being a little strange to his human sensibilities – at least to see them in another male – the alien’s good cheer was infectious.

“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full,” he said, idly stirring one of the pans.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Vrenal said, as he peered over Mark’s shoulder at the sizzling pans – giving Mark a whiff of the guy’s perfume in the process.

It was very citrusy.

More to the point, he was a little close. Not rudely so, but again, closer than a guy was usually comfortable with. Fortunately, he stepped back a moment later.

“But enough about me - for now, I hear you’re new to Krenheim, yes? A human guy, all alone in a big new city?” He tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I guess,” Mark chuckled. “Though I’ve met a few people who’ve helped me find my way.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” the alien chuckled, eying Saria as he gave Mark a conspiratorial nudge. “A cute human guy like you, I bet you’ve had girls all-but climbing over each other to give you a hand.”

The Pesrin scoffed at the implication, but Mark just laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. But yes, just about everyone I’ve met has been very helpful.”

The Nighkru paused at those words, eying him with an indecipherable expression, before he shook his head.

“Well, how about I continue the trend? As I said, I’m delighted to have another guy on the team, so how would you feel about a boys’ night out?”

Mark paused, considering it.

 Though the fact that he hadn’t instantly squealed and excitedly agreed had Vrenal leaning in. “Please. I can promise you won’t regret it. There’ll be lights, clubs, the works. Seriously, I know just the place for a newbie to dip his feet.”

Mark stared into the alien’s sparkling eyes, the other male’s lower lip practically quivering as he gazed up at the human – and Mark continued to think about it.

Because his every instinct was telling him that a very flamboyant gay man was asking him out on a date. Which, while quite flattering, was obviously of little interest to him.

Of course, he wrestled down that instant knee-jerk response as he reframed the situation into a more alien mindset. A mindset that framed the situation as exactly what Vrenal said it was.

In an otherwise entirely ‘male dominated’ work space, the team’s peppy social media manager was inviting the new ‘girl’ out for a night on the town in the hopes of doing some ‘feminine’ bonding.

And truth be told, the idea did hold some appeal.

After weeks out in space, surrounded constantly by alien women and a dearth of other men, he’d certainly been feeling a little like he was the only man left in the galaxy.

Now, that was of course entirely untrue, but the sentiment held.

The few males he’d seen tended to be swallowed up by a crowd of female acquaintances – leaving them little more than fleeting glimpses in a sea of female faces.

And that was when he saw them at all.

Most species tended to have a seven to one gender imbalance, but that wasn’t reflected in the streets at all. At least, outside of advertisements and billboards. Men on Krenhiem, it seemed, tended to spend a lot of time at home rather than walking the streets.

They were definitely an even greater rarity on public transit.

Which he was definitely coming to understand. He was coming to suspect that a lot of what he’d originally thought was ‘innocent’ jostling from other passengers in otherwise crowded carts was actually just an excuse for casual groping.

Something that didn’t really bother him so much as it was mildly irritating now that he knew what it was – but he had a feeling that was because he wasn’t used to it and would continue to change the more he realized it was happening.

…So, yeah, the idea of hanging out with another guy, even if Vren was about as far from his mental image of a “dude” as you could get held a lot of appeal. Not that he disliked Jelara, Tenir or Saria – he definitely wasn't complaining about the interest – but a good old fashioned ‘guy’s night’ sounded like fun.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds… cool,” Mark said after a pause that was likely a second too long. “When were you thinking?”

Still, it didn’t seem like Vrenal much cared as his face split into a beaming smile.

The alien clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and delighted. “Perfect! Tomorrow night sounds good to me. Strike while the iron is hot and all that. I’ll ping you the details - there’s this fabulous club in the Neon District, you’ll love it.”

Well, a club hadn’t exactly been what he’d had in mind. He’d been thinking more a sports bar and beer – but even as he thought that, he realized how unlikely that possibility had been.

Hell, if he wanted that, he was pretty sure Saria would have been an infinitely better option. She definitely seemed more like a beer and sports bar girl than the collection of sparkles before him.

Still, he supposed a club could be fun. It’d be new, if nothing else.

As he watched, Vrenal spun on his heel, heading to the door. “Well, that’s settled. I’d love to stay and chat more, maybe sample some of whatever it is you’re making, but work waits not for even me. So nandles for now. I’ve got holo-vids to edit and sponsors to charm.”

He blew a playful kiss over his shoulder and was gone, the door hissing shut behind him.

Mark stared after him, feeling like he’d just been hit by a glitter-coated tornado. “That… was something.”

Saria laughed, her tail flicking with amusement. “Yeah, Vrenal’s a lot. You kind of have to be to be a mech-boy. They’re all a bit like that.”

She shrugged. “You get used to it. Or you don’t, and he just keeps steamrolling you with sparkles and charm anyway.”

She sighed, standing up. “And unfortunately for me, that’s what he did here.”

Mark furrowed his brow, before he realized something. “I assume that fight you wanted to watch is tomorrow?”

Saria gave him a wry smile. “Yep. It’s no big deal though. I’ll just have to catch you another time.” She paused in thought. “Actually… you a big music fan?”

No more than anyone else, but he nodded all the same.

“Great!” she cheered. “I, uh, well, I don’t have anything planned right now, but if something like that were to come up, you’d be interested?”

He shrugged. “Sure?”

“Right, it’s a date!” she cheered as she scooped up her data-pad and darted out of the room.

Or tried to. Given she’d been busily tapping on the device as she left, clearly sending a message, she actually clipped the door as she dashed out – though she tried to play it off.

“Ah, who put that doorframe there?” she chuckled – and he had a feeling she’d have been blushing if her fur didn’t cover it. “You didn’t see that!”

Then she was gone.

Mark just stared at the empty doorway, shaking his head for a moment before his omni-pad chimed. Looking down, he wasn’t too surprised to see the message was a from new contact:

Tomorrow, 9 PM, Neon District. Wear something that pops! Can’t wait to show you the city, cutie ;)

Right.

He was reasonably sure he didn’t have anything that popped – by alien male standards – and he definitely wouldn’t wear it if he did. His new friend would just have to deal with Mark showing up in something smart but understated. Because while he was willing to adapt to living in a new culture, that didn’t mean he intended to completely abandon his more human sensibilities.

Sensibilities that said human men didn’t wear glitter.

Ok, that’s patently untrue, he thought. Ok, I don’t wear glitter.

Yeah, that was better.

Still, he supposed that meant his calendar for tomorrow was filled now.

------------------------------

“Ah, shit,” Mark grunted as he nearly spilled the pile of containers he was holding in one hand, while the other tried to fish his key-chit out of his pocket.

While he’d definitely been thankful that Tenir had okayed him taking some of the excess home for his own use, the large collection had been a bit of a pain to carry on the train and walk back. So much so that he resolved to accept Nendra’s offer of a ride next time.

Just as he’d managed to get the chit out, without spilling Tormak bake all over the hall floor, he heard the ping of the elevator door opening behind him.

Glancing back, he smiled as he saw Jelara trudging down the hall toward him.

Though that smile dimmed a bit as she barely seemed to notice him. The Ulnus looked like she’d been wrung out and hung to dry. Her gelatinous form sagged, her usual vibrant blue dulled to a murky teal, and her movements were sluggish.

Clearly, whatever she did for work, it had been a long day of it.

For a moment, he considered just letting her get to her room and crash out like she likely planned, before a thought occurred to him.

“Hey, Jelara!” he called, keeping his tone light but warm. “Rough day?”

Her faceplate turned towards him, expressionless features still somehow managing to convey wry exhaustion. “Ah, Mark. Yes… you could say that.”

Her voice still carried the same lyrical tone he was used to, but in the moment it sounded almost deflated. She seemed to notice his awkward positioning, and with an almost visual mustering of her will, she stepped towards him. “With that said, you seem to be struggling there. Would you like this one to hold those while you open your door?”

He smiled at that small act of kindness – even if part of him thought back to Vrenal’s words on girls falling over themselves to help him because he was a guy.

“If you wouldn’t mind?” He paused, reading the exhaustion in her posture, the way she seemed to lean toward her door like it was the finish line. “I’d be happy to compensate you for your time. You eaten yet?”

The alien’s gelatinous body shifted a bit beneath her suit, even as she freed him of his burden. “Ah, no. Not yet. This one was debating boiling some noodles or just crashing out.”

He smiled, happy that he had another option then. “Well, if you want, I’d be happy to invite you in while I break out these. They’re still hot and I’ve got plenty here -  there’s vraka stir-fry, kresh mash, some tormak bake. If nothing else, I can guarantee it’ll beat instant noodles.”

Again, it was funny to realize that they were another constant in the universe. A case of convergent culinary development in action.

And despite what some might think, he held nothing against instant noodles.

Anyone who thought a chef didn’t eat the same easy to make crap that everyone else did after a long day clearly hadn’t ever spent much time in one’s presence. Hell, it was likely Mark ate more than average, given that most days the last thing he could possibly fathom doing was more cooking after spending an entire day doing exactly that.

To that end, instant noodles ruled.

In this case though, he had the means to offer something a little more nutritious and filling to his gelatinous neighbor.

Jelara’s form flickered, a faint pulse of brighter blue betraying her interest, but she waved a hand, the gesture sluggish. “That’s… kind of you, but this one wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Mark shrugged. “It’d be no issue, but if you just want to take one back to your apartment instead, that’s fine too.”

Given she looked liked she was barely staying upright, he’d hardly hold it against her if she was more interested in crashing out than being invited over.

“Really?” she asked. “You wouldn’t be offended?”

He scoffed. “Not at all. As I said, it’s payment for helping me with this. And because I like you.”

He enjoyed the small flare of red that formed in her core – though she tried to hide it by shifting the Tupperware in her arms.

Still, she hesitated, her form quivering as she inhaled though her suit’s intakes - the scent of the vraka and tormak clearly hitting her.

After a moment, she sighed, the sound like bubbles popping. “Okay, if you’re inviting this one in, they wouldn’t… mind eating with another.”

Oh, clearly she’d found a second wind?

“Just for a bit, though,” she added. “This one will likely not be great company right now.”

“Company’s overrated,” Mark scoffed as he opened the door to his apartment. “Food’s the main event. And I’ll hardly be upset if you end up crashing out on my couch or… anywhere else.”

Once more, he enjoyed the red flush that pervaded her form as she followed him in, muttering something under her breath in her native ‘tongue’. He noticed her ‘eyes’ lingered for just a moment on his apartment’s singular decoration – the Grarl model standing on the kitchen counter before she moved over to the table.

She was clearly too tired to ask about it though as she placed the Tupperware down before practically staggering over to a chair.

Mark set about dishing out what he wanted, before glancing at her. “Any preference?”

She made a vague gesture with her hands – an Ulnus equivalent to shaking her head perhaps?

“No, it all smells great,” she burbled.

He nodded, before grabbing a second bowl. Before long, he was headed over to the table. As he sat down though, he noted the slight tension in the alien’s form.

“Mark…” she gurgled.

“Yes?” he said casually.

“While you’re a very attractive male and this one greatly enjoyed our time together last time. This one hopes you’ll forgive them if they can’t… perform to the same degree tonight.”

The human froze, just staring at the alien.

Which she seemed to take the wrong way. “Of course, this one knows you have needs. You’re a human male. And she’s lucky to be able to partake of your exuberance.” She paused. “This one just asks that you be… gentle.”

It almost seemed to pain her to say that – as if some great war between exhaustion and pride had taken place inside her prior to her speaking.

Once more he was reminded of the fact that for all he found her adorable – Jelara was outwardly a badass femme fatale.

And here she was asking the ‘cute but insatiable chef boy next door’ not to ride her too hard after a long day at work.

Did… did she think he was expecting them to have sex? Had she accepted joining him in his apartment for fear of him being offended if she declined? For fear that future sex would be off the table?

It was still funny – and a little sad – but mostly funny. “I mean, I thought you were too tired to go, but if you really want to get busy after, I suppose I can be… gentle. I mostly just invited you in here because I was a little worried you’d collapse in your apartment.”

He picked up his fork. “At least if you do it in here, I can carry you to the bed.”

…Assuming she was still in her suit when she did. Otherwise he might need to break out a bucket.

A very big bucket.

She stared at him, so he continued. “Seriously, I wasn’t inviting you in to pressure you to have sex. I really was just worried about you. Feel free to crash on the bed or the couch when you’re done eating. Or head back to your apartment if you can make it.”

The alien sagged in place. “Oh, praise the ancestors.”

Mark laughed.