Cyborg Merman by Amanda Milo

Author:Amanda Milo [Milo, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2020-09-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 5

C’VEST

Stella doesn’t speak, and her mood lowers so rapidly I can only watch in dismay as the activity in her mind shuts down like a city block that’s lost power.

I struggle to stay awake and I activate all the pleasure centers I have access to while I clutch her in my arms, enjoying the way she feels as I haul more of her against my chest, taking her weight, rolling to my back and bringing her on top of me. My sweat is cooling on her, and where she’s not stuck against my areas that have humanlike skin (or a close enough equivalent), she’s growing chilly. I rub her upper arm with my palm.

You’re lying on the covers, idiot, I realize. I fight to free them, wrenching myself sideways, struggling with the thick blanket as it wraps around my legs, trapping them—a feeling I hate, one that makes panic rise inside of me like some ancient instinct about nets, I suppose. But eventually I free the bedding and rip it back enough to slide us under the covers.

At no time during this process does Stella stir. She doesn’t react to me holding her and she doesn’t fight my ministrations in her mind. She lets me play her happiness centers with all the permission one gives to a renowned orchestra conductor, if only I had the skill. I can tell that I fumble the sectors and hit on other spots sometimes, but she doesn’t complain. Just lets herself feel whatever I can soften her reality with.

I don’t let myself fall asleep until she does, and only after she’s floating on a blissful cloud, and she’s projecting that same image of strange fluttering insects that make her feel delighted.

When I wake up, it’s dark in the room, the lamp switched off. There’s light emanating from around the partially open door though, and the scent of food and the loud spitting of meat in lava hot lard rouses me enough to get vertical.

I stumble out of the bedroom, and Stella glances up, a spatula in one hand, a strip of bacon sticking out of her mouth, and her eyes go wide.

I follow her gaze, landing below my navel to where I’m not wearing a stitch.

My penis is jutting out proudly as a sailor's marlinspike.

No wonder my pelvis feels tight and hot. Is this what I can expect of married life? Ever since I had Stella the first time, I’ve been distracted with thoughts of sex with her, and then last night I was consumed with hope that she’d give me a signal that she desired to mate with me too. For someone who didn’t understand the appeal of sex or the drive of mating, this is astounding. Staggering, really.

Is this normal?

I don’t realize that I’ve voiced the question aloud until Stella makes a noise similar to a choked snicker.

I take my focus off of myself in favor of eyeing her.

Her cheeks go bright, and she turns her attention to whatever is in the odd hinged skillet she’s using.

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