Page 18

Derek

Watching Kav'eth have a complete emotional breakdown while trying to maintain diplomatic composure is both hilarious and endearing.

The guy's standing there in his perfectly pressed formal attire, hair arranged like he's about to give a speech to the UN, while I can literally feel his panic through our empathic connection.

He needs food. And possibly a reality check about what's actually important here.

I pull on the jeans from yesterday, zipping them but leaving the button undone, no point getting fully dressed when I'm planning to hit the pool later. The low-slung waistband shows off the defined V of my hips, and I can feel Kav'eth's eyes following the movement through our empathic connection.

"Do you not wish to cleanse yourself first?" Kav'eth asks, still hovering by his workstation like it's going to provide him with magical solutions to his emotional crisis.

"Nah, I'm going swimming later," I tell him, already examining the available ingredients. "You're welcome to join me for that, by the way."

I can feel his bioluminescence flicker even without looking at him. The empathic bond is fascinating, like having a direct line to his emotional state. Right now it's broadcasting pure overwhelmed confusion mixed with attraction he's trying desperately to ignore.

"Come on," I tell him, heading toward the door. "Let's go make some real food. Your quarters don't have the right setup for what I want to do."

I don't wait for his response, just stride out into the corridor.

Through the bond, I can feel his moment of hesitation, probably about leaving his quarters after our night together, like somehow the ship itself will judge his loss of professional composure, but then his footsteps follow behind me as we head toward the dining area.

The dining area has a much better food prep setup than either of our quarters, professional-grade equipment that can actually handle real cooking instead of just reheating synthesized meals. Perfect.

Kav'eth follows me in, looking like he's trying to decide whether this constitutes a violation of some protocol or another.

His formal attire is perfectly arranged, every hair in place, but I can feel his awareness of my half-dressed state through the empathic bond.

The way his gaze keeps drifting to where my unbuttoned jeans sit low on my hips is especially satisfying.

I move toward the food synthesizer, but when I try to access the controls, nothing happens. "Uh, how do I work this thing?"

"Voice authentication required," Kav'eth says, moving closer. "The system needs to be programmed to recognize your vocal patterns." His fingers dance over a control panel with practiced efficiency. "Please state your full name and repeat the phrase 'nutritional synthesis authorization.'"

"Derek Cross. Nutritional synthesis authorization."

"Authorization complete," the synthesizer announces in that same neutral tone all their tech seems to use.

I grin at the machine. "So now I just say 'Hey Siri, give me eggs' and it works?"

Kav'eth's golden eyes narrow with confusion. "I do not understand the reference. What is a... Siri?"

"Never mind," I laugh, already accessing the ingredient options.

"Eggs, fresh vegetables, Greek yogurt, protein powder.

.." I list off what I need, and the synthesizer produces everything with impressive efficiency.

"Okay, so normally I'd do a protein shake before a workout, but since we've got access to real food here, we're doing this properly. "

Separating egg whites is muscle memory at this point. Years of meal prep content for Instagram, plus the constant need to hit my macros for optimal performance. Jake used to make fun of me for weighing everything, but there's a reason I can deadlift way more than most people.

Speaking of Jake, I push that thought away. Not relevant anymore.

"Egg white omelet for protein, we're talking like thirty-five grams here, with avocado for healthy fats and pico de gallo for flavor without all the processed sauce bullshit.

" I toss vegetables into the pan with the same precision I bring to everything else.

"Your body's a machine. You feed it crap, it performs like crap.

Feed it quality macros, and you can do incredible things. "

Kav'eth approaches cautiously, like I might suddenly revert to diplomatic protocol or something. "Your approach to nutrition is quite... complex."

"It's not complex, it's smart." I grin at him while adding spinach to the omelet. "Fuel for performance. Most people eat garbage and then wonder why they feel like shit all the time."

I start the smoothie next, Greek yogurt, protein powder, frozen berries. The key is getting the ratios right so it's not too thick or too sweet. This is exactly the kind of breakfast I'd normally post about, complete with macro breakdown and motivational caption about starting your day right.

"Oh," Kav'eth says, clearly trying to demonstrate his cultural knowledge, "I thought humans preferred... pancakes? For morning meals?"

The face I make is probably not attractive, but holy shit, pancakes. "God, no. Pancakes are basically sugar and empty carbs. Absolutely terrible for you."

Just thinking about them makes me grimace. Eight months of choking down Jake's terrible pancakes every weekend because he was so proud of being able to make them. Dense, flavorless carb bombs drowning in syrup, completely destroying any progress I'd made during the week.

"My ex could only make two things, coffee and pancakes. Had to choke them down for eight months because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. They're only acceptable on serious cheat days when you're really craving something awful for you."

The casual mention of my previous relationship creates an unexpected tightness in his chest that I can feel clearly through the empathic bond. Jealousy. Interesting. And definitely something I can work with.

"Yeah, pancakes are basically the worst possible breakfast," I continue casually, cracking eggs with practiced efficiency. "Jake used to eat them constantly. I have no idea how he stayed in decent shape, honestly. Must have been all the sex we were having."

The reaction through the empathic bond is immediate and intense, a spike of possessive jealousy so sharp it almost makes me stumble. I glance over at Kav'eth and see his golden eyes have gone dark, his bioluminescence flickering with patterns that definitely aren't regulation diplomatic calm.

Perfect.

"Of course, he was never really that great at—"

I don't get to finish the sentence because suddenly Kav'eth is moving, crossing the space between us with fluid alien grace. Before I can react, he's got me pinned against the wall beside the synthesizer, his body pressed against mine and one powerful thigh shoved between my legs.

"Never," he says, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that makes my cock immediately take interest, "mention Jake Morrison again."

His bioluminescence is flaring bright gold, and through the empathic bond I can feel his possessiveness mixed with arousal and something that might be genuine anger. The diplomatic mask is completely gone, replaced by something primal and alien and absolutely fucking hot.

I grin up at him, making no attempt to hide how much I'm enjoying this reaction. "Why? Does it bother you that I used to fuck someone else?"

Kav'eth's grip on my shoulders tightens, and he presses his thigh more firmly between my legs, making me gasp. "You are mine now," he says with absolute certainty. "The empathic bond makes that clear."

"Prove it," I challenge, grinding down against his thigh and enjoying the way his bioluminescence flares even brighter. "Every morning you better fuck me hard enough that I forget there was ever anyone before you."

The sound Kav'eth makes is somewhere between a growl and a groan, and for a moment I think he might actually take me up on that challenge right here against the dining area wall.

Instead, he leans in close enough that I can feel his breath against my ear. "Finish making breakfast," he commands, his voice rough with want. "And then we will discuss your... educational requirements."

He releases me and steps back, but his eyes remain dark with promise and his bioluminescence continues pulsing in patterns that make my mouth go dry.

I take a moment to collect myself, running a hand through my hair and adjusting my jeans again. The satisfied smirk I can't quite suppress probably gives away exactly how much I enjoyed pushing his buttons.

"Looking forward to it," I tell him, turning back to the eggs.

The rest of breakfast preparation happens with significantly more sexual tension simmering between us. I can feel Kav'eth's eyes on me as I work, and every time I move in a way that shows off my back or shoulders, his bioluminescence flickers with renewed interest.

It's not until I'm plating the omelets that something occurs to me. "Wait," I say, pausing with the spatula in my hand. "I never told you Jake's last name."

Kav'eth goes very still, and through the empathic bond I feel a spike of something that might be panic before he carefully controls it. "It was... in your file," he says after a moment's hesitation. "Standard background information for assessment purposes."

The hesitation makes something prickle at the back of my mind. There's definitely more to that story, and the careful way he's not meeting my eyes suggests it's probably significant.

But honestly? I don't really care. Jake's old news, ancient history, and whatever bureaucratic alien reason Kav'eth has for knowing his name isn't worth pursuing when we've got more interesting things to focus on.

"Right," I say, setting the plates down and letting the moment pass. "Assessment files. Makes sense."

I plate the omelet with the attention to presentation that comes from years of food photography. Proper color balance, height, garnish placement. Even without ring lights and camera angles, it looks like something worth eating.

"This is how you properly fuel your body," I say, setting the plate in front of him along with the smoothie. "The smoothie's got Greek yogurt, protein powder, and berries. Clean eating, optimal macros, and it actually tastes good."

Kav'eth takes a cautious bite, and I feel his surprise through our connection. The way his golden eyes widen with genuine appreciation makes something warm settle in my chest.

"This is... extraordinary," he admits, and I can't help but grin.

"Right? This is what real food tastes like when you're not trying to survive on nutrition paste." I dig into my own omelet, savoring the combination of flavors and textures. "Your people really need to learn about seasoning."

"We view nutrition as fuel," Kav'eth says, taking another bite with obvious pleasure. "Flavor is considered... secondary to efficiency."

"That's fucking tragic." I gesture with my fork at his plate. "Food can be fuel and still taste amazing. You just have to know what you're doing."

Watching him discover proper breakfast is almost as satisfying as watching him lose control last night. There's something about introducing someone to things they've never experienced, seeing that moment of realization when they understand what they've been missing.

"The macros on this are perfect," I continue, because I can't help myself when it comes to nutrition education.

"High protein for muscle synthesis, healthy fats for hormone production, complex carbs for sustained energy.

Plus all the micronutrients from the vegetables.

Your body's getting everything it needs to perform optimally. "

Kav'eth nods seriously, like he's filing away this information for future reference. "And this beverage?"

"Post-workout smoothie, but it works for breakfast too. Twenty grams of protein from the yogurt and powder, antioxidants from the berries, probiotics for gut health." I take a long drink, enjoying the familiar taste. "I usually have one of these after swimming. Speaking of which..."

I lean back in my chair, watching his face carefully. "I'm planning to hit the pool in about an hour. You're welcome to join me if you don't have anything better to do."

The teasing tone makes his bioluminescence flicker again, and through the bond I can feel his immediate interest warring with whatever diplomatic obligations he thinks he should be prioritizing.

"I have assessment documentation to complete," he says carefully.

"Bullshit. You have me to assess, and I'll be in the pool. Seems like the perfect opportunity for hands-on evaluation." I grin at him. "Unless you're scared you'll lose that diplomatic composure again."

The challenge hits exactly the way I intended. Kav'eth's spine straightens, his golden eyes flashing with something that definitely isn't diplomatic neutrality.

"I do not lose composure," he says with dignity that's immediately undermined by the way his skin flushes blue.

"Uh huh." I finish my smoothie and stand, stretching in a way that I know shows off the flowing artwork he's so fascinated with. "Pool's yours if you want it. I'll be there in an hour, working on my cardiovascular conditioning. You know, evaluation-relevant activities."

I can feel his eyes on me as I move around the dining area, and the empathic bond carries his growing arousal mixed with determination. Perfect. Let him think he's maintaining professional boundaries while I systematically destroy every wall he tries to put up.

This evaluation is going to be a lot more interesting than either of us originally planned.