Page 19

Kav'eth

I arrive at the pool area precisely sixty-three minutes after Derek's departure from the dining facility, carrying my personal data pad and maintaining what I hope appears to be professional observation protocol.

This is no longer about evaluation, that pretense dissolved the moment I pinned him against the wall in a display of possessiveness that would have horrified my diplomatic instructors, but the familiar routine of documentation provides necessary structure for thoughts that have become increasingly chaotic.

Derek is already in the water, and he is, predictably, completely naked.

Of course he is naked. Humans and their inexplicable relationship with optional clothing protocols.

I settle into the observation area and activate the data pad, attempting to focus on clinical documentation while Derek moves through the water with fluid efficiency. His stroke technique is technically excellent, demonstrating the cardiovascular conditioning he mentioned during our morning meal.

Subject displays advanced aquatic capabilities, I type with careful precision. Stroke mechanics indicate significant training and physical conditioning optimal for—

Derek executes a turn at the pool's edge that showcases the intricate designs flowing down his back in perfect symmetry, and my bioluminescence flickers involuntarily as I remember tracing those lines with my tongue.

I delete the entry and begin again.

Day two observations: Subject demonstrates continued adaptation to ship environment. Physical conditioning appears suitable for integration into Nereidan society.

The clinical language feels inadequate for what I am actually observing.

Derek's body moves through the water with a grace that makes my chest feel tight, and every time he surfaces for air, water streams from his hair and down his chest in ways that make maintaining professional detachment increasingly impossible.

This is not evaluation. This is me watching the human I am bonded to and feeling possessive satisfaction at his physical capabilities, combined with arousal that has nothing to do with species compatibility research.

"Hey!" Derek calls from the pool, hanging onto the edge and breathing heavily from his exertion. "Can you increase the resistance? This is too easy."

I move to the pool controls, adjusting the current settings to provide additional challenge.

Derek grins at me before pushing off again, and I return to my observation position with the uncomfortable awareness that I am now actively participating in his exercise routine rather than simply documenting it.

Current resistance increased to accommodate subject's conditioning level. Cardiovascular performance remains optimal despite enhanced difficulty.

But my attention drifts from clinical observation to less professional considerations. The way his muscles work beneath his skin. The efficiency of his breathing patterns. The precise inkwork that flows across his shoulders and disappears beneath the water line.

The knowledge that Jake Morrison once had access to this same view creates an unpleasant tightness in my chest that I am learning to identify as jealousy.

The emotion is foreign, Nereidans rarely experience such feelings due to our controlled approach to partnership selection, but unmistakable in its intensity.

I hate that Derek was ever with someone else.

I hate that another being touched him, learned his responses, shared his bed.

The logical part of my mind recognizes that this reaction is both irrational and unprofessional, but the larger part, the part connected to Derek through our empathic bond, wants to eliminate all evidence that anyone existed before me.

This possessiveness should disturb me. Instead, it feels natural, right, like finally acknowledging something that has been building since our first encounter.

Derek completes another series of laps before hanging onto the pool edge again, this time staying in place as he catches his breath. Water drips from his hair and streams down his chest, and his breathing is elevated but controlled.

"What are you writing over there?" he asks, his voice slightly breathless but amused.

"Documentation," I reply automatically, though we both know that explanation has become meaningless.

"Read it to me."

The request catches me off guard. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your notes. Read them to me." Derek's expression is challenging, playful. "I want to hear what you think of my performance."

I glance down at the data pad, realizing that my actual notes are woefully inadequate. "Subject demonstrates advanced aquatic capabilities. Stroke mechanics indicate significant training. Current resistance increased to accommodate conditioning level. Cardiovascular performance remains optimal."

Derek listens with obvious amusement. "That's it? That's your big professional evaluation?"

"Documentation protocols require clinical objectivity," I say, though the words sound ridiculous even to me.

"Uh huh." Derek pulls himself out of the pool in one fluid movement, water streaming from his body as he stands directly in front of me.

Naked, dripping, breathing slightly hard from exertion, he represents everything my diplomatic training should have prepared me to resist and everything my newly awakened desires cannot ignore.

"So," he says, stepping closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his skin, "I'm ready for that education you mentioned. If you're still interested."

The smirk on his face tells me he knows exactly what effect his proximity is having on my nervous system. Through our empathic bond, I can feel his confidence, his anticipation, his willingness to let me take control despite being the one who clearly holds power in this dynamic.

"Derek," I say, his name rough in my throat.

"I'm right here," he tells me, moving close enough that our bodies are almost touching. "And I want you to show me what you were holding back this morning. No more careful diplomat bullshit. I want all of it."

The permission in his voice, the challenge, the way he's offering himself while maintaining that confident control—it breaks whatever restraint I was clinging to.

I stand slowly, using my full height advantage to loom over him. Derek's eyes darken with satisfaction as I crowd into his space, backing him against the observation area wall.

"You want my education?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"Yeah," Derek breathes, tilting his head back to look at me. "Teach me."

I brace one hand against the wall beside his head and lean down until our faces are inches apart. "Lesson one," I say quietly. "You belong to me now. Completely."

Derek's breath hitches, and through the empathic bond I feel his arousal spiking in response to my possessiveness. "Prove it," he challenges.

So I do.

My mouth crashes against his with none of the careful control I maintained this morning.

This kiss is claiming, demanding, designed to eliminate any memory of anyone who came before me.

Derek responds immediately, his hands fisting in my hair as he pulls me closer, meeting my intensity with his own.

But this time, I am the one setting the pace.

I lift him easily, the size difference that he seems to find so appealing making it simple to maneuver his body exactly where I want it. Derek wraps his legs around my waist with obvious satisfaction, grinding against me as I carry him to the padded exercise area.

"Fuck, yes," he gasps when I set him down and immediately drop to my knees. "Just like that."

I take his cock into my mouth without preamble, using everything I learned about his responses during our previous encounter. But this time, I am not asking permission or seeking guidance. This time, I am claiming what belongs to me.

My mouth engulfs his shaft completely, using my natural lubrication to make everything slick and perfect. I work his cock with deliberate intensity, my tongue mapping every ridge and vein while my hands grip his hips to hold him exactly where I want him.

Derek's hands fly to my hair, his hips bucking as I take his cock deeper than should be possible. The sounds he makes, gasps, moans, my name torn from his throat, only fuel my possessive satisfaction.

"Kav'eth," he pants, tugging on my hair. "Need... need your cock inside me. Now."

I release his shaft slowly, enjoying the way his cock springs free, hard and slick with my saliva and natural lubricant. I stand, enjoying the way he has to tilt his head back to meet my eyes.

"Turn around," I command.

Derek complies immediately, bracing his hands against the wall as I position myself behind him. The structured patterns of his tattoos are perfect beneath my hands as I prepare him thoroughly, my fingers slick with the natural lubrication my body produces.

One finger first, then two, stretching him open while he pushes back against my hand with desperate need. When I add a third finger, curling them to find that spot that makes him cry out, Derek's whole body shudders.

"More," Derek demands, his voice rough with want. "I can take it. I want to feel you for days."

The raw need in his voice makes my control fray completely. I coat my cock with generous amounts of the slick fluid, positioning myself at his entrance and using my height advantage to loom over him.

I press inside slowly, inexorably, feeling his body stretch to accommodate my considerable size. Derek cries out as I fill him, his whole body shaking with the intensity of being opened so completely.

Through the empathic bond, I can feel everything, the burn of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, the way his body struggles to accept me before finally surrendering. It's intoxicating, feeling his pleasure layered with mine.

"Harder," he gasps when I begin to move with careful control. "Don't be careful. I want all of it."

So I give him exactly what he asked for. I drive into him with the full force of my strength, my larger frame pinning him completely against the wall as I claim him with thorough possession. Each thrust hits deep, my size ensuring I reach places that make him scream my name.

"Mine," I growl against his ear, feeling his shuddering response through our connection. "You are mine. Say it."

"Yours," Derek gasps, pushing back against my thrusts with desperate need. "Fuck, I'm yours. Only yours."

The words snap whatever control I was maintaining. I pound into him relentlessly, driven by possessive need and the empathic feedback of his overwhelming pleasure. My hands grip his hips hard enough to leave marks, using my superior size and strength to take him exactly how I want him.

Derek's hand wraps around his own cock, stroking frantically as I continue the punishing pace. Through our bond, I feel his climax building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

When he comes, it's with a scream that echoes through the pool area, his whole body convulsing as he spills against the wall. His internal muscles clench around me with devastating force, milking my cock as the sensation overwhelms us both through our empathic connection.

The feedback loop of our shared pleasure triggers my own release, and I follow him over the edge with a roar of satisfaction, filling him completely as his body pulses around me. I stay buried deep inside him, marking him as thoroughly mine.

We collapse together against the wall, both breathing hard and trembling with aftershocks. Derek's skin is flushed and damp with sweat, and through our connection I can feel his profound satisfaction mixed with something deeper.

"That," Derek says when he finally catches his breath, "was much better than your clinical notes."

I cannot help but laugh, the sound rough with exhaustion and satisfaction. "I am beginning to suspect that proper documentation protocols are inadequate for this situation."

"You think?" Derek grins at me over his shoulder. "Maybe you should try a different approach to your research methods."

As I look down at him, marked, claimed, completely mine, I realize that traditional research methods were never going to be sufficient for what exists between us.

Some discoveries require direct experience rather than clinical observation.

And this particular discovery is far too important to approach with diplomatic detachment.