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“This is crazy,” Anya murmurs, her lips a whisper away from mine. The throatiness of her voice is a rough scrape of desire in my ears, and I find myself dreaming of all the peculiar sounds she might make with that lush mouth.

My Anya, will you let me touch you? Taste you? Will you open your mind to me so I may learn how these bodies are best used?

I’m trying to be patient, but even the fabric of her clothing feels delicious against my skin and some strange new instinct has me pressing my body against hers.

“Open my mind to you? What do you mean?” she asks. Her hands are tentative on the skin of my abdomen—she seems particularly interested in the flat ridges of my stomach.

Show me in your mind how humans find pleasure with each other.

Her strange round pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the blue of her eyes. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and worries it with her small, blunt teeth, and finally nods in agreement. This time, when I stroke my consciousness against hers, she relaxes into me and a flood of images, words, sounds, and sensations cascades over my mind. I grasp onto fragments of her memories, desperate to understand how to make her feel good. One image returns again and again.

I weave my fingers through her silky hair again and pull her face to mine. Tilting my head slightly, I brush my lips against hers. A pleasant sensation, but I’m confused as to its meaning.

My face must show my dismay, because Anya chuckles.

“Kiss,” she says. “It’s a kiss. Of course you don’t understand kissing—jellyfish don’t have lips.”

Her lips move gently against mine again and her small, pink tongue slips out to lick at the seam of my lips. Startled, I open my mouth, and she uses the opportunity to lean in, stroking my tongue with hers. The feeling is slick and wet and electrifies my nerves. Suddenly, I’m ravenous for this kiss. I return the movement, and Anya makes a soft mewl of pleasure, then wraps her hands around my neck.Yes. I understand this now.

I lift her small human body from the floor to keep our mouths together, because after learning the movements of lips and tongue and teeth, I find I would rather endure great pain than cease this kissing. Anya rocks against me, and my engorged “dick”—as she called it—rubs against her. The feeling lights a fire of sexual hunger that I know will not be slaked any time soon.

“God, your cock feels incredible against me,” she mumbles against my lips. “How bad would it be for me to have sex with a hot alien I met an hour ago?”

I want to explore her body, so I let one of my hands slide back down beneath her clothes. The scent of her need perfumes her skin, a heady mixture of pheromones and her body priming itself for mine.

Not bad. Good. It would be very, very good, My Anya. Do you want this, Sweet Goddess? Do you want me to plunge my hard cock into your wet heat? Or would you allow me to lick your dripping cunt until your body shudders with release first?

“For your first day in a human-like body, you’ve learned pretty quickly,” she says with a grin.

You showed me all I need to know, My Anya. Your body will tell me the rest.

“You aren’t trying to get me pregnant with a bunch of alien babies, are you? You’re not going to lay eggs in my chest or anything, right?” she asks, suddenly concerned, but not concerned enough to cease rocking against my groin.

No, Devastating One.I chuckle.Oseuthans do not lay eggs, and we do not make young during the ritual, unless you decide it should be so. I would be honored to sire your divine offspring, if you so choose, but that is not the point of this ritual.

My reassurance relaxes her slightly, but I still sense there is something weighing on My Goddess’s mind.

May I take you to a comfortable place while you decide what you want, My Anya?

She considers the question, and I’m delighted when her cheeks darken to a deep pink.

What does this signify? Can human bodies change colors?

I pulse my photophores in response and she brushes her fingertips across the glowing spots on my skin. My soft blue light dims to a deep, vivid purple and when she gasps in delight, my cock twitches at the noise. I wish to wring such a sound from her lips.

“Kind of,” she says. “Actually, yeah, maybe I need to take a minute to think. I know somewhere we can go.”

She takes my hand and leads me out to the main corridor. “Come with me. Tell me more about your planet—your brethren, as you call them.”

Truly, Fierce One, there is not much to tell. We live simple, spare lives on Oseuth. We want for little, but we need little. We venture forth on holy pilgrimages every now and then, but those who never find a holy aspect return to the seas of Oseuth and must wait for another opportunity to seek their tribute.

Sadness blooms in me momentarily.

Though we’re linked in mind, it’s a solitary life. I’ve lost count of the pilgrimages I’ve made—lost track of my purpose more times that I can count, lost count of the worlds I’ve explored and the failures I’ve acquired. But that’s behind me now, My Goddess, now that I’ve found you.

Anya winces slightly and casts a pitying look my way. “I’m not your goddess, Leo. I told you before—I’m just a human. I wish you’d believe me.”

Again, this refusal. I am beginning to take her words as truth and not a test of faith from Sindaria. I do not understand the vehemence of my feelings for her—this lust which exists unparallelled in my intimate memories. If she isnotSindaria, then she must be a gift from the Goddess of Carnal Pleasures, for My Anya is most certainly divine in origin.